Tag Archives: Colonial American Romance novel

Historical Romance Novel Enemy of the King for the 4th of July!


“Passion Governs and she never governs wisely.” ~ Benjamin Franklin

Enemyoftheking resized

Years ago, I was researching my early American Scots-Irish forebears when I often came across references to a battle fought during the Revolution called The Battle of Kings Mountain. The name alone drew me. I vowed to go back later and research that battle more in-depth. When I did, I uncovered fascinating fodder for the imagination.
I learned about the gallant, ill-fated British Major Patrick Ferguson who lost his life and Loyalist army atop that Carolina Mountain called King’s back in the fall of 1780. Ferguson is buried there beneath a stone cairn, possibly along with his mistress who also fell that day. He had two, both called Virginia. But it is believed one mistress made her escape on a horse by betraying his whereabouts to the advancing–and really angry–Patriots.

The hardy, sometimes downright mean, Overmountain men of Scots heritage, didn’t take kindly to Ferguson’s warning that they desist from rebellion or he’d bring fire and sword upon them and hang all these ‘enemies of the King!’

‘Book title,’ I said to self. And Enemy of the King sounds cooler than The Patriot. So I began what came to be my version of that famous movie, though I started my novel before it even came out. Whew, that WAS a while ago. I’ve invested years of research into the high drama and romance of the Revolution and gone on to write two more novels in what became The Traitor’s Legacy Series, with three novels set during and just after the war.

The Battle of King’s Mountain, a mega conflict that altered the course of a nation, plays a prominent role in the fast-paced historical romance that is Enemy of the King. And, being drawn to mysterious old homes and the notion that those who’ve gone before us are not always gone, I included a paranormal element.

I suspect my ancestors are speaking to me as I have a colonial forebear named Jeremiah Jordan and I discovered an early Meriwether in the family. My journey back through time gathers intrigue, and I wondered how the people who lived through anything as all-consuming as the American Revolution ever got their lives back to normal. The ripples from that enormous upheaval are still flowing out in concentric circles. They’ve certainly encompassed me.

Step into the elegant parlor of Pleasant Grove, an eighteenth century Georgian plantation built high on the bluff above the Santee River. Admire the stately lines of this gracious brick home and its exquisite décor. Stroll out into the expansive garden between fragrant borders of lavender and rosemary. Bask beneath the moss-hung branches of an enormous live oak, then saunter back indoors to dress for a candlelight dinner in the sumptuous dining room. But don’t plan on a lengthy stay, you’re about to be snatched away for a wild ride into Carolina backcountry.

Jeremiah Jordan is a Patriot and Meriwether Steele a Tory. She risks a traitor’s death if she fights for the one she loves.

Blurb: 1780, South Carolina: While Loyalist Meriwether Steele recovers from fever in the stately home of her beloved guardian, Jeremiah Jordan, she senses the haunting presence of his late wife. When she learns that Jeremiah is a Patriot spy and shoots Captain Vaughan, the British officer sent to arrest him, she is caught up on a wild ride into Carolina back country, pursued both by the impassioned captain and the vindictive ghost. Will she remain loyal to her king and Tory twin brother or risk a traitor’s death fighting for Jeremiah? If Captain Vaughan snatches her away, he won’t give her a choice.
‘South Carolina, spies and intrigue, a vindictive ghost, the battle of King’s Mountain, Patriots and Tories, pounding adventure, pulsing romance…
ENEMY OF THE KING.’

The year is 1780, one of the bloodiest of the American Revolution. The entire Southern garrison has been captured and Lord Cornwallis is marching his forces deep into South Carolina. ‘Bloody Ban’ Lieutenant Major Banestre Tarleton and his infamous Legion are sweeping through the countryside. Revenge is the order of the day on both sides and rugged bands of militia are all that stand between crown forces and utter defeat.

“I thoroughly enjoyed Enemy of the King…the characters are memorable, the setting beautifully described…the action riveting & the romance tender…for anyone who loves a well crafted historical romance.” ~ Long and Short Reviews by Poinsettia

Publisher’s Weekly BHB Reader’s Choice Best Books of 2009
2010 Best Romance Novel List at Buzzle

“An amazing and vibrant look into the American Revolution…this sexy historical is a must read!” ~ Coffee Time Romance and More by Danielle

Get Enemy of the King in Kindle or print at Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Enemy-King-Beth-Trissel-ebook/dp/B002C73OZW

Enemy of the King will soon be an audiobook. Traitor’s Legacy, the sequel to Enemy of the King, is an audiobook now. The narrator did an excellent job!

To listen to the Traitor’s Legacy audiobook at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Traitors-Legacy/dp/B07BH7WC4P/

At Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/Traitors-Legacy-Audiobook/B07BH7B5D6

Traitor’s Legacy is also in kindle and print at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Traitors-Legacy-Beth-Trissel-ebook/dp/B00MNTXQUW/

Historical Romance Series–The American Revolution

***The three novels in The Traitor’s Legacy Series are sold individually or as a box set from all online booksellers. The three novels have been reduced in price.

In Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Traitors-Legacy-Beth-Trissel-ebook/dp/B01L5PSE1K/

***If you are interested in reading and reviewing Enemy of the King, or any of the stories in the Traitor’s Legacy Series please contact me: bctrissel@yahoo.com

“When I think of a historical I think of Beth Trissel”~


Review for Historical Romance Novel

ENEMY OF THE KING at: You Gotta Read

Rating: YOU GOTTA READ

Reviewed by: Bella Wolfe

Review:
1780, South Carolina: While Loyalist Meriwether Steele recovers from illness in the stately home of her beloved guardian, Jeremiah Jordan, she senses the haunting presence of his late wife. When she learns that Jeremiah is a Patriot spy and shoots Captain Vaughan, the British officer sent to arrest him, she is caught up on a wild ride into Carolina back country, pursued both by the impassioned captain and the vindictive ghost. Will she remain loyal to her king and Tory twin brother or risk a traitor’s death fighting for Jeremiah? If Captain Vaughan snatches her away, he won’t give her a choice.

I love historical romances. They are one of my favorites and anymore when I think of a historical I think of Beth Trissel. She is an author who has proved herself over time. She is a beautiful storyteller. Ms. Trissel can take a story line and make it a work of art. And she did just that with Enemy of the King. This tale was so wonderful; it really was a magical read. As soon as I started reading I felt like I was in the pages. The author has a way of pulling you into the story; this is your story. I could see the characters and the images Ms. Trissel described as if I were there or watching a film on TV. It’s a classic read for the ages and I highly recommend this book to everyone who wants to read a true fairy-tale. Thank you Beth Trissel for providing your readers with another amazing read! I cannot wait for your next release.

****

1780 South Carolina, spies and intrigue, a vindictive ghost, the battle of King’s Mountain, Patriots and Tories, pounding adventure, pulsing romance…ENEMY OF THE KING

Currently reduced 62% at Amazon.

ENEMY OF THE KING Gets an ‘A’ from Miss Lynn’s Books & More


Enemy Of The King by Beth Trissel-“A”

Rated 5+ Stars

During the Read an E-Book read, I came across Beth Trissels blog about E- readers. I always like to leave a comments when I visit a blog, I feel it’s the neighborly thing to do. When I got a chance to choose an E-Book to read, I was not particular, just pick one and send. I love Historical Novels so I knew I would like whatever she sent. One of my favorite movies is “The Patriot” and when I received “Enemy Of The King” from her, she could not have made a better choice. Guess it was fate that led her to send this one particular book.

“Enemy Of The King” takes place during the American Revolutionary War, in North Carolina year 1780. The main characters of the book Meriwether Steele and her guardian Jeremiah Jordan capture the readers heart from the very beginning. Upon the death of her father Captain Steel, Meriwether becomes very ill and is placed under the care of Jeremiah. Eventually she begins to have feelings for this handsome widow. Although Jeremiah is quite older than Meri, he has know her since she was a young child. Only one problem, she is now quite grown up and no longer a child. Can he remain on guard, true to his country and keep his feelings hidden in these troublesome times. When she learns that Jeremiah is not loyal to the king and is indeed a Patriot, she in turn trying to defend him shoots and wounds one Captain Vaughn sent to arrest Jeremiah for treason. Now she is on the run with Jeremiah and his band of soldiers.

This is one of the best historical novels that I have read in a long time. I connected with the characters from the beginning and played out the movie in my mind as I read. I always say if you cannot visualize in your mind what is going on throughout the plot of a story then the book is not interesting. The location of the story is well described, the action is great, the romance between Meriwether and Jeremiah is wonderful, add a touch of humor, and of course all the sadness and death that is a part of any war and you have a book that you will not be able to put down.

I have to admit that this is the first book I have read of Ms. Trissels but it will not be the last. If you are a reader of Historical Novels and you have not read any of Beth Trissels books yet then I highly recommend grabbing a copy of “Enemy Of The King” and I feel sure that will lead you to more of her books.

****

Step Into the Garden With Meriwether And Jeremiah


Stone lions the size of wolfhounds sat on either side of the imposing front door as if to devour unwanted guests. Perhaps Jeremiah enjoyed their significance. He seldom entertained and seemed happier seated astride a horse than in the company of most ladies and gentlemen. He turned the marble knob and led Meriwether out onto the crescent-shaped balcony.
He leaned momentarily on the iron railing. “Feel that breeze.”

“Delightful.” The cool wind fanned her hot cheeks. Lifting her skirts, she walked arm in arm with him down the brick steps of the gracious Georgian-style home.

Pleasant Grove had been built by his grandfather on a bluff above the Santee River and fashioned after the manor in Kent that Lord Jordan had been forced to flee in 1647 after fighting with Charles I, who lost his kingdom and his head. Fortunately Jeremiah’s Royalist ancestor had fared better than the ill-fated king and escaped to America with his young wife and her jewels. But his near capture by Cromwell and the loss of everything else had given him a wariness he’d passed to his descendents. Was Jeremiah secretly opposing a different king?

She cocked her head at him a little apprehensively. “Is there anywhere in particular you’re taking me?”

He smiled as if to reassure her. “Just farther in.”

“As you wish.” Being out here alone with him was like being in a glistening Eden. A thrush warbled from high above them in the live oak. Green-gray moss hung from its far-reaching branches and blew in the breeze, reminding her of the McChesney, her father’s largest ship, its sails billowing.

Jeremiah held her back, the warmth of his hand radiating through her sleeve.  “You’ll spoil those fine shoes.”
He led her around the sprawling puddle she hadn’t noticed and onto the green mat creeping over the path.

The fragrant thyme scented the air as they trod on the tiny leaves and wound deeper into the garden. Newly washed hollyhocks, rosy balsam, and wine-red salvia gleamed. The glowing colors, heady fragrances, her arm tingling at his touch…stirred a pulsing awareness in Meriwether that she’d never felt in the house. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask, but couldn’t, and she darted glances at him.
He caught her eye. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing of consequence,” she almost stuttered.

He quirked his left eyebrow at her; the narrow scar gave it a slightly crooked rise. “And earlier in the parlor?”

She glanced away from his searching gaze and focused on the toe of his boot. “Just chatter.”

“Are you truly worried?”

“Only as much as anyone these days.” Still evading his scrutiny, she bent and plucked a sweetly-scented nicotiana blossom.

He took the white flower from her hand as she straightened, setting her skin afire, and tucked it behind her ear. “I sense there’s much left unsaid. Why won’t you speak?”

Still battling the near irresistible draw of those blue eyes, she stared at his open neckline. “I prefer to listen.”

“Yet I would know what fills your fair head.”

“Perhaps you already do,” she said, hastily shifting her inspection from his bronzed chest back to the snowy blossoms.

His voice lowered even further. “No. You are not so easily read.”
Jeremiah grew silent and led her into the avenue, as he called it, strolling with her between rows of English boxwood that reached up over their heads. The clipped shrubs exuded the warm Old World scent Meriwether remembered from childhood.

“Stay a moment,” he said, stopping beside the fish pool. The statue of his father’s favorite spaniel sat on the pebble path beside the water, a whimsical touch. The brown stone was flecked with moss, as was anything that sat out of doors too long, but the cocker seemed as if he really were intent on the water.

She patted his granite ears and sighed. How could she confide her deepest longing and her fears?

“Such a weighty sigh. Has our walk overtaxed you?”

She lifted her gaze to his, bracing herself under the force of his study. “No. I’m much stronger now.”

“Good. You seem so. You were as weak as a newborn kitten when I first found you.”

“I only remember that you brought me here in your boat.”

He scooped up a pebble, tossing it into the pool. Goldfish scattered, and a little green frog plopped in among the lilies. “Charles Town is a graveyard. Thank God yours has not swelled the family plot.”The intensity in his voice took her by surprise.
“Are you content at Pleasant Grove, Miss Steele?”

“Yes,” she answered in growing confusion.

“Entirely?”

She shied away from his inquiry and watched goldfish rippling through the water like orange silk. “Why doubt me?”

“I must know.”

His earnestness made her stomach churn. “For my part,
I am content. I trust you don’t find my presence burdensome?”

“Not yet,” he said gravely.

Her eyes startled back to his. “Do you think I will become so?”

“Quite possibly.”

****

1780 South Carolina, spies and intrigue, a vindictive ghost,  the battle of King’s Mountain, Patriots and Tories, pounding adventure, pulsing romance…ENEMY OF THE KING.

Enemy of the King is an amazing and vibrant look into the American Revolutionary War and tells the story through the eyes of a remarkable woman. While Jeremiah Jordan himself is a strong soldier and heroic patriot, it is Meriwether Steele who makes such a great impression in this epic novel. Her dedication to the man she loves, the lengths she must go to defend herself and others, and the unstoppable force that she is makes Meriwether one heck of a heroine. Ms. Trissel brings the countryside and its people alive with her fascinating and at times gory details. This sexy historical book is a must read!’
~ Danielle
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More

For more on my work please visit: http://www.bethtrissel.com/

Excerpt From Native American Colonial Romance Novel Through the Fire


 

BHB Reader’s Choice Best Books of 2009

Award-winning Native American Historical Romance Novel Through the Fire takes place in the Virginia Colonial Frontier during the French and Indian War.

Chapter One

June 1758, the Colonial Frontier, the Allegheny Mountains of Western Virginia

Even the scent was different here, an earthy musk of living plants and crumbling leaves as ancient as the giant chestnuts. High above the forest canopy, a shrill cry sounded.

Rebecca Elliot glanced up and saw a red-tailed hawk plummet through the blue, snatching a dove on the wing. Buff-colored feathers exploded in a cloud, then, nothing. Limp dove in its talons, the hawk flew out of sight.

A chill prickled down Rebecca’s spine. What other predators lurked in this ocean of trees? The stout walls of the log cabin she’d passed by earlier seemed a haven; a sturdy fort would be safer still. Urging her mare on, she caught up with her younger sister, Kate, riding just ahead of her.

Branches snagged Rebecca’s blue linen skirts. She freed her hem, only to have a limb grab her wide-brimmed straw hat. Halting the mare, she tugged at the satin ties under her chin, arching in the sidesaddle to disentangle herself.

“Easy, Mrs. Elliot,” Lieutenant McClure cautioned in low tones from behind. He guided his roan horse alongside hers.

She studied the young officer in his homespun shirt, breeches, and worn riding boots. The angle of his firm jaw, roughened with brown whiskers, reminded Rebecca of her late husband, John. But no man could be as handsome as her English captain, she thought, with the familiar ache.

Lieutenant McClure freed her hat and handed it to her. “Best keep it in your lap and your skirts well tucked up.”

“Thank you,” she said, smoothing back strands of blond hair that slipped loose from the knot at the nape of her neck. “Tell me, does this mountain have a name?” To know it would make this strange land seem somewhat tamed.

His watchful gray eyes met hers. “Shenandoah, Ma’am.”

“Like the valley? I’m told Shenandoah means Daughter of the Stars. Such a lovely name.”

His mouth tightened. “I suppose so. It’s Indian.”

Her sister Kate glanced back over her shoulder, the green bonnet framing her delicate features, warm brown eyes alight with curiosity. “Do you think we’ll see any Indians, Lieutenant?”

“God, I hope not,” he muttered.

Rebecca gazed at the blue-green ridges looming above her like the storm swells of an uncharted sea. “How much farther to the fort? My sister and I are eager to join our uncle.”

Lieutenant McClure shrugged. “You’ll be united with him soon enough. Lord willing,” he added, and waved them both on.

In contrast to the men’s guarded silence, a gold warbler chattered among the leaves. Shafts of late day sunlight streamed through breaks in the thickly clustered trees to touch the nodding heads of columbine and rosy mountain laurel. The woods were like a garden long ago abandoned.

She jerked up her head. A big black bear ran across the path just ahead of the lead militiaman and sent a flock of wild turkeys flapping from the laurel thicket. The soldier slowed. Rebecca steadied her nervous mare. Any comparisons to an idyllic garden took flight with the scattering birds. Nor could the lush fern and flowers relieve her growing fatigue. Legs and back aching, she shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

Kate turned again, furrows creasing her brow. “Are you dreadfully weary?”

“A bit. I’m not the horsewoman you are.”

“Perhaps we’ll make camp early,” Kate offered.

“Not if yesterday’s journey is the standard.” Rebecca summoned a reassuring smile. “Don’t fret for me, dearest. I’ll manage.” Somehow, she always had.

She looked beyond Kate to the soldiers guiding their mounts over the rocky trail. What did this rugged militia, sent to reinforce Fort Warden, think of the two young English ladies traveling under their protection? No one had said anything, but the women’s presence had to be unusual, to say the least.

How far away Philadelphia seemed now; London was unspeakably distant. Was she mad bringing her sweet sister into this remote place? Whatever lay ahead couldn’t be worse than the life she and Kate had left behind.

Even so, doubt plagued Rebecca as the company rode into a grassy clearing among the trees. Deer lifted their heads in the muted evening light while a thrush trilled from high up in the boughs. This seemed a fair spot to make camp, and yet, her stomach fluttered uneasily.

Lieutenant McClure reined in his mount and held up a silencing hand as if he sensed something hidden in the leaves. Men warily turned their heads from side to side. Rebecca’s eyes joined several dozen others searching fern-filled shadows—but only for an instant. Then the shadows came violently to life, and an explosion of musket fire tore through her every nerve.

Soldiers struck by the hail of lead shot screamed out. Some slumped over their horses. Others tumbled to the ground. Wounded men writhed in the crushed grass, their piteous cries in her ears, while the dead lay where they’d fallen. Crimson stains pooled beneath them.

“Dear God!” Heart in her throat, Rebecca wheeled her frightened mare toward Lieutenant McClure.

He snatched the musket from his shoulder. “Stay low!” he yelled, leaping from his horse.

Soldiers scrambled to the ground to meet the unseen foe, but Rebecca and Kate crouched in their saddles fighting to control their skittish mounts. Abandoning the horses would leave them with no means of escape.

It crossed her desperate mind that neither she nor Kate knew how to reach the fort.

Another volley of shots flung more men to the grass.

Nothing could have prepared Rebecca for such an enemy. Elusive as ghosts one minute, a second later, bloodcurdling war cries rent the air as halfnaked warriors swept from the trees—so many more than the fast-falling soldiers. Bare arms swung lethal tomahawks with hellish fury.

Those men still able to stand fired into the surging tide, bloodying one brave’s shoulder, grazing another’s leg. Faces contorted, wounded men heaved themselves up from the grass and raised long knives to strike at their attackers.

She gaped in horror through the acrid haze of gun smoke—the taste of burnt powder in her mouth—as more soldiers fell screaming under brutal tomahawks. Sightless eyes stared up. The stench of battle filled her nose. She wanted to retch.

From the corner of her eye, Rebecca saw a warrior tearing right toward her and Kate. “Lieutenant!” she cried, battling the reins to twist her frantic mare away.

He planted himself before the two women, musket leveled. He fired, hurling the warrior back, but had no time to reload.

“There are too many! Get out of here, Mrs. Elliot!”

Throwing down his musket, he grasped his own tomahawk and disappeared into the smoky chaos of clashing men and bolting horses.

Rebecca fought numbing panic and turned to her sister.  Kate sat wide-eyed atop her mount, her gaze riveted on the warriors as they wielded bloody scalping knives, stripping hunting shirts and powder horns from the fallen men. Rebecca’s mare reared, tossing its head, eyes rolling in fear. She wrestled the reins for control. Kate’s big gelding was also frantic, but she checked him with instinctive expertise.

“Kate! Give him his head! Go!” Rebecca shouted, slicing through the paralysis that gripped her sister.

Kate’s gelding sprang away and galloped past several riderless horses with warriors lunging at the reins. Bent low over the horse’s straining neck, she flew across the hazy clearing into the woods beyond.

Rebecca hauled on the reins with clammy palms, turning her mare’s head to follow Kate.

A sinewy brave rushed at her, his mouth gaping in a fierce cry, bare arms outstretched. She shrieked, lashing him across the face with her crop. He tore it from her hand and twisted a quick bunch of her skirts to rip her off the horse.

Jerked down by the force, she clung to the saddle with one hand and smashed her fist up under his chin. His head snapped back. She raked his painted cheek with her fingernails.

“Get away!” Kicking out hard, she drove her foot into his chest.

He stumbled back with a grunt, surprise on his bleeding face. But he’d be at her again in a tick. She thrust trembling fingers into the saddlebag and closed her hand around the loaded pistol that had belonged to her husband. With deadly will, she drew it out and pointed the gleaming barrel. She cocked the hammer just as John had taught her.

The brave jumped aside as she fired. The shot exploded uselessly. The mare whinnied, dancing sideways, pitching like a ship.

Rebecca clung shrieking to the sidesaddle. If she fell, she’d be trampled—or worse.

“Hold on!” a man yelled, his voice deep, arresting.

Black hair flying, dark eyes riveted, a powerful warrior sprinted toward her, his long legs vaulting over downed soldiers, muscular arms shoving other warriors out of his path.

“Naga! Ambelot!” Shouting strange words, he seized her assailant and flung him reeling over the grass.

The lesser man lifted conciliatory hands and spun away.

Rebecca met the newcomer’s black eyes in astonishment. Did he truly think to help her? If not, she might get off a clout to his jaw with the pistol butt before he grabbed her.

He extended one hand to her frenzied mare. “Easy, steady.” His calm manner and commanding presence soothed the alarmed animal. He stepped nearer, reaching for the bridle.

Triumphant whoops of victory rose around them.

The horse whinnied and reared again, hooves pawing the air. With a despairing cry, Rebecca flew from the saddle and tumbled to the unforgiving ground. She cracked the back of her head and lay in a fog. The riotous jubilation reached her as if from a distance. Vaguely, she sensed someone near.

“So fair you are,” a low voice said near her ear.

Strong arms lifted her, and she had the unreal sensation of being safe before blackness claimed her.

*****

The French and Indian War, a Shawnee warrior, an English lady, blood vengeance, deadly pursuit, primal, powerful, passionate…THROUGH THE FIRE~

THROUGH THE FIRE is available in print and or digital download from Amazon, The Wild Rose PressBarnes&Noble, and other online booksellers.  Your local bookstore and library can order it in.

***All images are royalty free.  The musket pointing from behind the tree belongs to our family, image by my mother, Pat Churchman.

 

Follow Your Dreams


HawkThroughFireI’m thrilled to have signed with The Wild Rose Press for my historical romance, the story of my heart (actually written first and oft rewritten, the story I cut my teeth on and grew up with) RED BIRD’S SONG!  Set in the Virginia colonial frontier with a The Last of the Mohicans flavor, inspired by events that happened to my early American ancestors and the story that launched me onto my novel writing journey.

Back in the 1990’s, my sister Catherine (to whom I’m dedicating the book) cautioned me that it might take more than a few months to get Red Bird’s Song published.  I was like, ‘no way!’  Yes, way.

Catherine stuck by me in all my rewrites and helped sustain me, along with my mom and dad, a few close friends, and my hubby has always been supportive.   I finally set my beloved story aside, temporarily, and went on to write my next five books.  But now and then I’d go back and rework it some more.  Ultimately, I had to cut out well over a hundred pages and revise many scenes, though never the heart of the story.  And, at long last, “A triumph, my dear. A triumph,” to quote Bob Crachette in The Christmas Carol.

In those days (years–the previous decade) The Impossible Dream was my theme song.  So for all of you who have a dream, whether it’s to write a novel or fly to the moon, or something far more simple and yet daunting, never give up on anything (or anyone) you truly love.  Find a way.  People along your journey will help you; some of these are not even known to you yet.

“You are not finished when you lose, you are finished when you quit.” Quote from my youngest daughter’s basketball coach, back in the day.  I gained many motivating quotes and inspiration from watching her struggling team play B-ball.

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

“Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.” ~ Lanston Hughes

Through the Fire One of Three Novels in October Book Discussion


As many of you know, Through the Fire was the grand winner in the Grab A Reader Contest, thanks to my faithful friends and fans, and consequently is the subject of discussion at Writers and Readers of Distinctive Fiction‘s Book club, Lost In A Good…Book from 10/20/09–10/30/09.

Also featured are the two other winners, Margaret Tanner with Devil’s Ridge and Susan Macatee with Erin’s Rebel.  I am delighted to be in such fine company.  So, get your books and get on board!

Discussion Leader – Author Annette Snyder says:

“As I sip my Chamomile brew wearing my favorite fall sweater, I’m reading our October, Lost in a Good Book Selections.  Margaret Tanner takes us to another era with Devils Ridge. Reading Through the Fire, Beth Trissel transports us to the French and Indian War and Susan Macatee sends us on a journey in time with Erin’s Rebel.  So, join Lynda Coker, me and three talented authors while we discuss their work here during the October session of Lost in a Good Book, WRDF’s online book club.”

A bit more on all three novels:

ErinsRebelw1957300Blurb:
Philadelphia newspaper reporter, Erin Branigan, is engaged to marry and up-and-coming lawyer, but dreams of a man from the past change those plans and start her on a journey beyond time. After a car accident, Erin wakes to find herself living in the 1860s in a Confederate army camp. Captain Will Montgomery, the man of her dreams, is now a flesh and blood Rebel soldier who sets her soul aflame. But the Irish beauty holds a secret he needs to unravel before he can place his trust in her. Can she correct a mistake made long ago that caused his death and denied her the love she was meant to have? Or is she doomed to live out her life with nothing but regret?


DevilsRidgeFrontBlurb:

Set during the 1st World War.

By the time Ross Calvert discovers Harry Martin is in fact Harriet Martin she has fallen in love with him. Realizing she has failed in her final effort to protect her shell-shocked brother, she puts a desperate proposition to Ross. Marry her and she will give him an heir.  Ross accepts.  However, he is tormented by the betrayal of his former fiancée Virginia.  On his honeymoon he meets her again and is still infatuated.  With the army recalling him to the Western Front, he faces a terrible dilemma, taste Virginia’s passion before he heads to the trenches of France, or keep his marriage vows to Harry.  With the spectre of war hanging over them, there are even bigger obstacles for Ross and Harry. Ross returns to the trenches, and a man seeking wealth at any cost, endangers Harry’s life in a way she had never imagined possible.



THROUGH THE FIRE by Beth Trissel

Blurb:
At the height of the French and Indian War, a young English widow ventures into the colonial frontier in search of a fresh start. She never expects to find it in the arms of the half-Shawnee, half-French warrior who makes her his prisoner in the raging battle to possess a continent––or to be aided by a mysterious white wolf and a holy man.

****

~The French and Indian War, a Shawnee warrior, an English lady, blood vengeance, deadly pursuit, primal, powerful, passionate…THROUGH THE FIRE~

best book of the week LASR

For more on my work please visit: www.bethtrissel.com

Through the Fire is available in both digital download and print at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon, Barnes&Noble, (online) and other major online booksellers.