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Sweet Saturday Sample from Historical Romance Through the Fire–Beth Trissel


This excerpt from Chapter 13 gives a clear example of the fast-paced adventure romance that is Through the Fire.

White-hot knives of pain stabbed Rebecca’s side. Pushing on, she raced after the black stallion carrying Kate and Tessa to the trees she’d left behind mere hours before. If she made it into the woods at the same place they’d entered, she should be able to find the camp. But what of Shoka?

Tormented by his perilous state, she whirled around toward the turmoil behind her. Grayish white smoke from gunpowder and the burning fort clouded the bodies scattered over the field like rag dolls. Praying Shoka didn’t lie among the fallen, she squinted against the stinging air to seek him in the jumble of men. Tortured seconds passed as she stood, her eyes searching. If she didn’t spot him in a moment she’d run back and—there! She saw him and the tomahawk slashing at his head.

Her heart lurched into her throat as he dodged the lethal blow and sliced his blade across the attacking warrior’s arm leaving a scarlet streak.

A swift kick hurled his howling opponent back. His tomahawk upraised, Shoka rushed at a second brave, fighting his way to her. Musket fire blasted right behind her. She didn’t dare stay where she was. Catawba warriors were firing to shield their retreat toward the trees on the other side of the meadow.

Frontiersmen loosed a volley of shots and ran back to cover behind the flaming fort where the women and children had already fled. She hoped they were safely reunited, but her prayers were fixed on Shoka. She spun around to run and collided with a Catawba brave tearing past her. She reeled into the waves of men.

They shoved her out of their way, and she staggered, crying out as her bruised body hit the ground. She sagged on the grass, too winded to move. Scores of moccasins flew past just inches away from her head.

“Shoka’s woman. You have no pistol now.”

It was a voice she’d hoped never to hear again, dripping with scorn. She looked up in dread. Tonkawa stared down at her. Slitted eyes glinted in his green and black painted face, his powerful body silhouetted against the smoky sky. The silver brooch in his scalp-lock braid gleamed in the single ray of sunlight piercing the haze. Here was a demon sprung from hell.~

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***For more on Through the Fire, browse the posts beneath this one. The novel  is currently reduced from 4.99 to .99 at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon Kindle and Barnes & Noble’s Nookbook

***Royalty free images

Super Sale On Native American Historical Romance Through the Fire–Beth Trissel!


***Sale details at the bottom of this post.

THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR, A SHAWNEE WARRIOR, AN ENGLISH LADY, BLOOD VENGEANCE, DEADLY PURSUIT, PRIMAL, POWERFUL, PASSIONATE…THROUGH THE FIRE

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.~

Excerpt:
For a moment, he simply looked at her. What lay behind those penetrating eyes?

Shoka held out the cup. “Drink this.”

Did he mean to help her? Rebecca had heard hideous stories of warriors’ brutality, but also occasionally of their mercy. She tried to sit, moaning at the effect this movement had on her aching body. She sank back down.

He slid a corded arm beneath her shoulders and gently raised her head. Encouraged by his unexpected aid, she sipped, grimacing at the bitterness. The vile taste permeated her mouth. Weren’t deadly herbs acrid?

Dear Lord. Had he tricked her into downing a fatal brew?  She eyed him accusingly. “’Tis poison.”

He arched one black brow.  “No. It’s good medicine. Will make your pain less.”’

Unconvinced, she clamped her mouth together.

“I will drink. See?” he said, and took a swallow.

She parted her lips just wide enough to argue. “It may take more than a mouthful to kill.”

He regarded her through narrowing eyes. “You dare much.”

Though she knew he felt her tremble, she met his piercing gaze. If he were testing her, she wouldn’t waver.

His sharp expression softened. “Yet you have courage.”~

“Through the Fire is full of interesting characters, beautifully described scenery, and vivid action sequences. It is a must read for any fan of historical romance.” ~Poinsettia, Long and Short Reviews

Hear the primal howl of a wolf, the liquid spill of a mountain stream. Welcome to the colonial frontier where the men fire muskets and wield tomahawks and the women are wildcats when threatened.

The year is 1758, the height of the French and Indian War. Passions run deep in the raging battle to possess a continent, its wealth and furs.  Both the French and English count powerful Indian tribes as their allies.  The Iroquois League, Shawnee, and others bring age-old rivalries to the conflict—above all the ardent desire to hold onto what is theirs.  Who will live, and who will fall?

       
Reviewer: Sheila, Two Lips

“Ms. Trissel has captured the time period wonderfully. As Rebecca and Kate travel in the wilderness, though beautiful, many dangers lurk for the unsuspecting sisters. Away from the gentility they grew up around, the people they meet as they travel to their uncle in the wilderness are rougher and more focused on survival regardless of which side they belong. I love historical novels because they take me to times and places that I cannot visit and Through the Fire is no different.

As I read I am transported back to the mid-1700’s on the American frontier as Britain and France maneuver to control the American continent. I can see how each side feels they are right and the other side the aggressor. I watch how the natives take sides based on promises made but not kept. I felt I was there through Ms. Trissel’s descriptions and settings.”

…This is an excellent story where there is so much happening with Rebecca in the center of it all. I’m glad I read it and look forward to reading more of Beth Trissel.”~ (Two Lips Review)

2009 PUBLISHER’S WEEKLY BHB READER’S CHOICE BEST BOOKS

***THROUGH THE FIRE, published in print and eBook by The Wild Rose Press, is reduced to .99 in Amazon Kindle and Barnes &Noble’s Nookbook from Thursday August 2nd–Friday August 17th . Also reduced at The Wild Rose Press website from August 3rd–Monday 6th. To my knowledge, this novel has never been reduced before so take advantage now.


True Love Quotes and Images–Beth Trissel



“They do not love that do not show their love.” ~Shakespeare

” Love from one side hurts, but love from two sides heals.” ~Shakespeare

“So long as I can breathe or I can see, so long lives your love which gives life to me.” ~Shakespeare

“If music be the food of love, play on.”~Shakespeare

“So dear I love him that with him, all deaths I could endure. Without him, live no life.” ~Shakespeare

“Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.”~Shakespeare

“Men always want to be a woman’s first love – women like to be a  man’s last romance.” ~ Oscar Wilde

“Young love is from the earth, and late love is from heaven.” ~ Turkish Proverb

“We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love our first.” ~ Anonymous

“We fit together so well…it’s like pieces of a puzzle, the way your hand fits the curve of my hip and the way my head rests on your shoulder, the way our hands just melt into one, and the way I feel complete when I’m with you…like the picture’s finally completed and I’ll never have to wonder what I’m missing.” ~ guitarequalslife

“True Love burns the brightest, But the brightest flames leave the deepest scars.”~Unknown

“True love is friendship — caught on fire.” ~Gatech Kato

“True love doesn’t have a happy ending, because true love never ends. Letting go is one way of saying I love you.” ~ arie

“There are two sorts of romantics: those who love,and those who love the adventure of loving.”Lesley Blanch

“The quarrels of lovers are like summer showersthat leave the country more verdant and beautiful.”~ Susanne Curchod Necke
“He is not a lover who does not love forever.” ~ Unknown

“No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.” ~ Sara Teasdale

“This is true love – you think this happens every day?”–Westley, The Princess Bride

“A lover may be a shadowy creature, but husbands are made of flesh and blood.”~Amy Levy
“Love is the master key which opens the gates of happiness.”~Oliver Wendell Holmes

“Love me when I least deserve it, because that’s when I really need it.” ~Unknown

“One seeks to make the loved one entirely happy, or, if that cannot be, entirely wretched.” ~ Jean De La Bruyère

“All great lovers are articulate, and verbal seduction is the surest road to actual seduction” ~ Marya Mannes

“Just as in earthly life lovers long for the moment when they are able to breathe forth their love for each other, to let their souls blend in a soft whisper, so the mystic longs for the moment when in prayer he can, as it were, creep into God.” ~ SorenKierkegaard

“For true love is inexhaustible; the more you give, the more you have. And if you go to draw at the true fountainhead, the more water you draw, the more abundant is its flow.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

“True love always makes a man better, no matter what woman inspires it. ” ~Alexandre Dumas Père

“In true love the smallest distance is too great, and the greatest distance can be bridged.” ~ Hans Nouwens

*WWII postcard from sailor to sweetheart

“Like an old photograph
Time can make a feeling fade
But the memory of a first love
Never fades away.” ~ Tim McGraw

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Sweet Saturday Sample From Ghostly Romance Somewhere the Bells Ring–Beth Trissel


How about a little Christmas in July and a new excerpt from Chapter Three of my vintage American Christmas Romance with more than a whisper of the paranormal?

December 1968 

The pale light trailing down the hall illuminated the closed door to her right. Bailey stopped outside the wooden barrier, darkened and scored with age, and pressed her ear to its hard surface. Nothing unusual reached her above the rattle of the wind. Likely the smoke she detected had floated upstairs from the living room hearth. If a bum had stolen into the house and taken up residence in here—a wildly unlikely premise—she shouldn’t seek him out alone. Worse—if a ghost lurked within, she didn’t want to come upon this unearthly specter by herself. Or at all. She shivered from more than the frigid air, but didn’t turn back.

It might well be that the figure and light she’d seen earlier were simply the fabrications of her overactive mind. Supposedly no one had stayed in here for decades, presumably because it wasn’t needed. Ella gave the room an occasional dusting then shut the door. Any spillover of company slept elsewhere, including the two spare bedrooms downstairs.

Still, Bailey wondered. She had to peek inside this room. Go, if you’re going, she urged herself, before she lost her nerve.

Anticipating furniture covered in dimly seen sheets, an icy chill like the inside of a mausoleum, and no signs of life except possibly a vaporous figure, she gave the brass knob a twist and opened the door. She stood stock-still. The room crackled to life like the fire burning in the hearth across the stretch of carpet right in front of her.

If she’d come here during the day would all be as she’d expected? Was she dreaming now, because seated before the fire in one of two leather armchairs was a young man, and not just any man. He resembled Edward Burke from the photograph in the dining room. Brown hair with a tendency to wave had grown back from the short military cut she’d seen beneath the cap he wore in the picture.

Instead of the Marine uniform from World War One, he was dressed in a rust-brown velveteen robe with a shawl collar worked in a multicolored print, the sort of robe gentlemen wore in pictures she’d seen of early Twentieth Century fashion. The plush cloth covered him nearly to his ankles. His stocking feet were shod in slippers of the same hue and propped on a padded footstool.

He glanced up from the book he held in long, slender fingers. His chestnut brows rose in a quizzical arch then drew together above narrowing brown eyes. “Did no one ever instruct you to knock before entering a gentleman’s bedchamber?”

***This scene was inspired by a dream I had…which led to my writing the story.

*Old Virginia family home place pictured above.

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SOMEWHERE THE BELLS RING is available in ebook at The Wild Rose PressAmazon KindleAll Romance Ebooks, Barnes & Noble’s Nookbook & other online booksellers.