 The Nocturne Falls books -- both the romances and mysteries -- are so fun and funny! We're talking lightest of light, but with so much humour and imagination. Kristen Painter has created a town where vampires, witches, gargoyles, reapers, hobbits, elves, Santa, the Sandman, werewolves, dragons, yetis, and many other mythical/ legendary, um, people mix and mingle. Of course, she puts her own particular twist on all of the legends and makes everything so much fun.
In the Nocturne Falls Mystery series, Jayne, Winter Princess, daughter of Jack Frost and niece of Santa Claus -- I am laughing as I write this -- is sent to Nocturne Falls to look into a problem in one of Santa's workshop toystores. Jayne is great. She's a good person with an elven metabolism, which means she thrives on sweets. The way she eats will have you wanting to dash to the nearest donut shop or bakery. I've been listening to the series and narrator employs a sort of East coast accent -- New Jersey light. It's really cute and makes all of her tart little observations even funnier. But the books are just as enjoyable to read. Jayne also ends up with a talking cat. The mysteries aren't hugely mysterious, but they are enough to keep the hilarity going. If you want to take a break and just laugh at the familiar in unfamiliar territory, by all means, try this series.
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 Someone recently asked me what sparks my creativity. Two major sources of inspiration for me are being with people I love and nature. Last week, I enjoyed a hike through some woods and a day at the coast. I loved it. The hike was fun mostly because I was with our son Bashir, who also writes. We decided that a day in nature would be good for our writing. We headed to a state park. Ridiculously, I hadn’t taken hiking into consideration, although I love it and we were going to a park. Interesting, right? Bashir, of course, hadn't considered not hiking. Of course, he wouldn't. Neither one of us are exactly famous for our sense of direction. We struck off down a path with notebooks, pens, and our phones. No water -- I, genius, didn't think we would spend much time along that particular path. Again, what? I was a little bit of a wreck, to be honest. I was wearing crop pants and no-show socks. Everywhere I looked, I saw poison ivy and poison oak. What had I been thinking? Probably not so much about hiking as sitting beside the river, under the old, live oaks, writing and nibbling on snacks. I have an unreasonable fear of poisonous plants.  Bashir wasn’t bothered in the least. He marched confidently down paths lined with poison ivy while I held my breath. He made his way to scenic overlooks while I hung back doubtfully. He surprised me, too. He knew exactly how to return to the parking lot. He was paying attention to the trails and not focusing solely on groundcover! We finally did get to my lovely setting by the river. A cool breeze blew over the water, leaves drifted from the trees, and we soaked it all in. We talked. We snacked. We wrote. It was beautiful.  Happy Medieval Monday! It’s the last week of Daylight Savings – did you know? We have an exciting round of snippets this week from some wonderful books and authors. Check out the Medieval Romance Lovers FB page and enjoy! You can also find us on Twitter, #MedMonFall20. For my nature-themed snipped this week, Deidre and Lachlann are still driving down a pine tree-lined road towards a Christmas tree farm. “Why would I think you’re crazy?” “Sometimes, I think I am. Sometimes, it even seems the better option.” She felt her tension ease. He was going to tell her about his PTSD. “You mean clinically?” she asked gently, keeping her focus on the road ahead. “Yes.” She shook her head. “You’re not.” “But what if I am?” he persisted. “I’ll take care of you.” There was a moment’s silence. “What if I were a fugitive?” She almost hit the brake in the middle of the road. “Are you?” “I’m not sure.” “Excuse me?” “Let’s say I am.” “That’s sort of huge.” She decided to pull off the road before she drove into a pine tree. She parked on the shoulder and turned towards him.  He could never lose her. In the infinite vastness of time – past, present, future, past – he wouldn’t lose her.
Love was eternal. Lachlann had lost his entire family to the plague. He’d lost himself by falling through time. He had to go back, to return to the fourteenth century and try to save his family, save his son. But how could he leave Deidre? He needed her like he needed air. And she needed him. Would she believe him if he told her the truth about himself? Would she reject him since he couldn't stay? Deidre had become a medieval history professor because of a family heirloom -- a medieval drawing of a farmer that she'd loved since childhood. Too bad she couldn't have married him instead of the lying, vicious cheat who had almost ruined her life. Despite the fact that he'd cost her her job, her home, and her relationship with her family, he had failed to destroy her. With a new life in a new city, she'd moved forward. She didn't need anyone, especially another man. But it was impossible to ignore her new neighbor, a gorgeous giant with a strange accent, haunted eyes, and a striking resemblance to her medieval farmer. She wanted to erase the tormented look in his eyes, to make him as happy as he made her. She wished he would confide in her. But was she ready to confide in him? To explain how she’d lost everything – her life, her family, her self-respect – because of her own poor choices? Why did she have the feeling she could lose it all again? Available at Amazon.  Happy Medieval Monday! Better late than never, I hope? This was one of my best Mondays ever, and I've experienced, um... let's just say, "quite a few". But it's never too late to enjoy a little romance, especially medieval romance! Be sure to check out the Medieval Romance Lover's FB page to discover some wonderful books and authors. You can also find us on Twitter, #MedMonFall20. Until last week, I was sharing snippets of conversation as Deidre and Lachlann drove to a Christmas tree farm. We're back on that country road once again. He's trying to prepare her -- and himself -- for the talk they will have in the near future. “We agreed that we both have a lot to tell each other,” she said. “But what I’m going to tell you, what I have to say…” He faltered. “You won’t like it.” Deidre drew a deep breath, her thoughts racing to the DEA agent. Last night, she hadn’t told Lachlann about the strange interview. They’d both been tired, and she hadn’t wanted to ruin the evening. Was he going to confess? “Is it that bad?” she asked. “You might think so. You might think I’m crazy.” Drug smuggling was certainly crazy. Was now the time to tell him about the agent? Slow down, Deidre. First, she should be sure where this was going. Available at Amazon.   “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” Anne of Green Gables I agree with Anne! I’ve never tried to grow “fall tomatoes” before and so far, I’m astounded. They’re looking happier than any tomatoes I’ve ever grown. We only have four plants, but they are all bearing fruit. If the harvest is good and the plants continue to do well, I will have to seriously rethink my planting next summer. Vegetables usually die painful deaths by mid-July. I might have to try a new approach. Maybe I'll make the beds cutting gardens filled with heat-tolerant annuals and seasonal herbs. Speaking of weather, we’re looking forward to a cool front this weekend. Daytime temps might be in the 70s. That kind of weather, especially first of the season, is pretty much a major event around here. It definitely is for yours truly. I hope to spend at least one day in the garden. We have a new bed to build and fill with good, organic soil. I hope to also top a few of the beds with the same. Next week, someone is coming out to check and tweak our sprinkler system. Hopefully, by the end of October, I will be free to sow seeds for our cool season garden. And then there are always situations like this:  A gardener's work is never done -- thank goodness!
 Happy Monday? I used to wince at the greeting that was surely an oxymoron. But with Medieval Monday, I know there will be new snippets from wonderful books that will immerse me in romance, history, and fantasy. As if that's not awesome enough, the theme this fall is nature. If you enjoy any of these things, be sure to check out the Medieval Romance Lovers page on Facebook. There you will find authors of medieval romance sharing links to their websites – their beautiful, creative websites -- where they share snippets of their work every Monday. You can also find us on Twitter, #MedMonFall20. This week, I’ve switched from a drive to a Christmas tree farm to a medieval setting. My hero Lachlann has fallen forward in time, but he is every bit a medieval man with a medieval past. Lachlann sat at his desk, seeing not his computer but a broad, empty field, the loch sparkling in the distance. His best friend’s lyrical brogue sounded crystal clear in his memory. ‘“The sun hung midway between heaven and earth, the great loch silver beneath it, as Lachlann An Damh plowed his field.’ That sounds good, don’t you think? Must you do that?” Lachlann stopped in his tracks to glare at Rónán, who sat on a rock, sketching and watching him work. “Must I do what?” “It would be much more picturesque, and my drawing would look a lot better, if you would guide your oxen like any normal tuathanach. But no, you can’t be like other farmers. You have to pull the plow yourself, like one of your beasts.” “At the moment, I have more land than beasts,” grunted Lachlann, straining as he pulled the heavy, wooden plow over a deep rut. “One day, I’ll have more oxen." Available at Amazon.   October in southeast Texas is usually mild-mannered. The days are warm to slightly cool, the air is sometimes dryer. This week, the weather has been beautiful. The garden breathes a sigh of relief -- as does the gardener.  Welcome to Week Three of Medieval Monday! Be sure to check out the Medieval Romance Lovers page on FB to discover some great authors. You can also find us on twitter, #MedMonFall20. As for my snippet this week, Lachlann and Deidre are getting closer to the Christmas tree farm. A lake sparkles in the distance. Lachlann is torn between his feelings for her and what he has to tell her. Lachlann thought he’d been terrified when the earth opened and swallowed him up. He’d been afraid when he’d awoken broken and lost in a strange time and place. But those feelings were nothing compared to the terror that seized him now. What if, when he told her, she rejected him outright? Be it a day or a lifetime, he was going to ruin whatever time they had left together. But he knew that he owed her the truth, especially if he was going to ask for her help. “I have a few questions before I tell you everything.” She raised her eyebrows. “Before?” “Before.” “I’m listening.” “Okay.” He glanced out of his window. A lake shimmered in the distance. “I have a lot to tell you.”  He could never lose her. In the infinite vastness of time – past, present, future, past – he wouldn’t lose her.
Love was eternal. Lachlann had lost his entire family to the plague. He’d lost himself by falling through time. He had to go back, to return to the fourteenth century and try to save his family, save his son. But how could he leave Deidre? He needed her like he needed air. And she needed him. Would she want him if he told her the truth about himself? Would she even believe him? Deidre had never known a man could be as beautiful and tender as Lachlann. She wanted to erase the haunted look in his eyes, to make him as happy as he made her. She wished he would confide in her. But was she ready to confide in him? To explain how she’d lost everything – her life, her family, her self-respect – because of her own poor choices? Why did she have the feeling she could lose it all again? Available at Amazon. "Lord, make me an instrument of your peace." Saint Francis of Assisi Feast October  |
A Little of This, a Little of ThatKeep me away from the wisdom that does not cry, the philosophy that does not laugh, and the greatness which does not bow before children. – Gibran Khalil Gibran Archives
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