Monday, April 30, 2018
Friday, April 27, 2018
The Duel for Consuelo by: Claudia H. Long
Title: The Duel for
Consuelo
Author: Claudia H. Long
Series: Tendrils of the Inquisition Book 2
Genre: Historical Fiction/ Historical Romance
Publisher: Five Directions Press
Release Date: Aug 9 2011
Blurb/Synopsis:
A heart-stopping story of love and betrayal in the time of
the Inquisition.
Consuelo, beautiful healer, is trapped by her family's
history of conversion at the point of a sword. Born to a Crypto-Jewish mother,
raised as a Christian, and bound to her family's traditions, Consuelo struggles
with her loyalties and the pull of the Enlightenment. She sees the
possibilities of love and fulfillment, but when her mother's secret is
discovered she is forced to put her love and her very life at risk to save her
mother.
This story brings the struggle to life and showcases the
beauty, terror, courage and sacrifice that honor and family demand in the final
decades of the ruthless scourge of the Inquisition.
She was sure she saw a light flicker before she actually
heard the door open. She lifted her head, for a moment unsure of where she was.
The aroma of the herbs and spices reminded her that she was in the Castillo
pantry, an odd enough location to warrant disorientation, without taking into
account her exhaustion after the stresses of the past two days. She waited
silently, intending to let the approaching figure take whatever it was she was
looking for. She assumed it was Cayetana, or even Doña Josefina, come looking
for some staple from the pantry. Perhaps a green to make a tea from, to soothe
a troubled tummy or a restless sleeper.
The figure turned to the side, going around the couch where
Leila lay in deep, sound slumber, and Consuelo started with surprise. The figure
was a male, and in an instant she had no doubt it was Juan Carlos. "What
are you doing here?" she whispered.
"Shh." He put the candle down on the desk.
Consuelo looked up from the pallet. It was on the floor of the pantry so she
was at Juan Carlos' feet. She moved to sit, pulling the heavy blanket up with
her. She was wearing only her chemise, and her long chestnut hair was braided
loosely down her back. This was no way to receive a visitor.
Juan Carlos knelt on the edge of the pallet.
"Shh," he repeated. "Don't make a sound. You will wake your
mother."
"What do you want?" Consuelo said quietly.
"Consuelo," he said. She waited. "I've been
gone so long. I didn't know what I would find on my return." He put his
hand on her shoulder and she leaned her face into his arm. She felt her pulse
race.
"There is time for this in daylight," she
whispered.
"I leave at dawn." He stroked her hair. "Our
futures. They are forever intertwined."
Consuelo held her breath, waiting for the words that would
justify this visit. No further words came. "Is that what you want?"
she asked.
His hand lingered on her shoulder, then slid down to her
breast. Her breath caught in and her whole body tensed. "I think you
know." He slipped his hand under her chemise.
"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed.
He put his fingers to her lips. "Your mother's hard won
rest should not be disturbed. There are few guests left so she would be the
only one on this side of the house who would hear us. We could go to my room
but I am still sharing it with Leandro and I have no intention of sharing you
as well."
"We are not going anywhere. You must have lost your
mind." And yet she could not pull away from him. She felt her heart in her
ears, her throat close. His hand trailed over her breast and she felt the tip
quiver under his fingers, and the icicle of sensation travel down her body.
"You want me. I want you."
"This is madness. We can't."
"Don't be afraid," he whispered.
How can I not be
afraid? My life, my world hangs in the balance. He bent down and kissed her
on the lips.
Twitter @CLongnovels
Monday, April 23, 2018
Josefina's Sin by: Claudia H. Long w/Creative Post
Title: Josefina’s Sin
Author: Claudia H. Long
Series: Tendrils of the Inquisition Book 1
Genre: Historical Fiction/ Historical Romance
Publisher: Five Directions Press
Release Date: Aug 9 2011
Editions/Formats: 1st Edition ~ Formats eBook
& Print
Blurb/Synopsis:
A thrilling and passionate debut about a sheltered
landowner’s wife whose life is turned upside down when she visits the royal
court in seventeenth-century Mexico.
When Josefina accepts an invitation from the Marquessa to
come stay and socialize with the intellectual and cultural elite in her royal
court, she is overwhelmed by the Court’s complicated world. She finds herself
having to fight off aggressive advances from the Marquessa’s husband, but is
ultimately unable to stay true to her marriage vows when she becomes involved
in a secret affair with the local bishop that leaves her pregnant.
Amidst this drama, Josefina finds herself unexpectedly drawn
to the intellectual nuns who study and write poetry at the risk of persecution
by the Spanish Inquisition that is overtaking Mexico. One nun in particular,
Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, teaches Josefina about poetry, writing, critical
thinking, the nature and consequences of love, and the threats of the Holy
Office. She is Josefina’s mentor and lynchpin for her tumultuous passage from
grounded wife and mother to woman of this treacherous, confusing, and
ultimately physically and intellectually fulfilling world.
At the far end of the room, a door I had not previously
noticed opened, and all fell silent.
Before us stood a tall woman, almost as tall as Manuel, with luminous
black hair piled high into a complicated twist and held with glittering
barrettes of amethyst and silver. Her
huge eyes were the same eerie jet, under perfectly arched coal-colored
brows. Her skin was pale, almost
ghostly, and she was so thin that her skin stretched taut over her
aristocratically bony nose. She had a tiny, rosebud mouth that nearly vanished
under the sway of her eyes.
The women curtsied; the nuns inclined their heads. I knew what to do, Angelica having tutored me
in that courtesy, at least, and I dropped into a deep curtsey before the
Marquessa. “Who is this?” she said, her
voice high and thin. I looked up,
knowing that she meant me. Angelica led
me forward.
“Marquessa, this is Doña Josefina Maria del Carmen Asturias
de Castillo, wife of Manuel Castillo.
She has come to pay her respects.”
“I kiss Your Mercy’s hands,” I said.
She laughed, a reedy, almost wheezing sound. “Your Mercy?
That’s for priests, silly woman.
Call
me Your Highness, like everyone else!”
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Redeeming the Stepbrother by: Andrew Grey w/Creative Post & Giveaway
Title: Redeeming the Stepbrother
Author: Andrew Grey
Series: A Tale from St. Giles Book 2
Genre: M/M
Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner
Press
Release Date: April 10 2018
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
Blurb/Synopsis:
Family can be a blessing and a curse, but for artist
Florian, it’s a nightmare he longs to escape.
As chief designer for Bartholomew Artist Porcelain, Florian
specializes in painting birds. He also watches them in the wild to distract
himself from his short-tempered mother, at least temporarily. Florian’s heart
is too soft to leave his stepsister, Ella, to suffer alone. Still, he can’t
help dreaming about one day finding happiness and love.
When Count Dieter von Hollenbach arrives in town to visit a
friend and present an award, he isn’t looking for romance. Then again, he
doesn’t expect someone as perfect as Florian to come into his life. To make
sure Florian is all he seems and that their connection is genuine, Dieter keeps
his title to himself.
But he isn’t the only one with a secret.
At a masquerade ball to celebrate the award, some of the
masks fall away, but those that remain in place could destroy the love
beginning to grow between them.
This area was marshy during part of the year and I had to be
careful where I walked so I didn’t sink into the muck, but it was perfect for
birds of all kinds.
I wasn’t disappointed. I emerged from the tall reeds to spot
a great blue heron about twenty feet away. It was beautiful, and I didn’t want
to scare it, but I also wanted a picture. I had ideas for a series of works
featuring the impressive bird—tall, statuesque, shining in the sunlight.
I slowly moved back into the reeds, lifted my camera to
position it between the long grass stems, and began snapping pictures. It was
stunning, and I’d gotten enough to be able to represent the detail I wanted
when a splash startled the bird and it flew away, darting over the water.
“Scheisse,” a deep voice swore. I knew the word from my high
school class as a version of “shit,” but wondered why I was hearing German.
Another splash came, louder than the first, so I slowly worked my way forward
to see what the trouble was.
“You scared the bird,” I scolded and then saw a man, taller
than me. He had to be well over six feet and was dressed like someone out of a forties
period movie, with a wool hat, a coat complete with elbow patches, and puffy
pants. His boots and legs stuck in the mud almost to his knees. An old pair of
binoculars hung around his neck. I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing.
“Will you help me?” he asked, and I slowly made my way
closer.
“Got yourself in a mess, didn’t you?” I was careful not to
get caught in the same bog. “You have to feel before you step.” I managed to
get close enough to take his hand. “Pull up one foot and try not to lose your
boot.”
“I am.” He lifted his foot, the sucking sound loud in the
stillness. He got the foot loose and stepped toward me.
“Hold on.” I bent down a bunch of the reeds. “Step on
those.”
He did and got his other foot loose, though this time the
mud nearly got his boot. It hung on his foot as he swung around, and he tugged
it back on and stepped onto the grass.
“Come this way.” I led him through the reeds, back toward
dry ground and the cars.
“I think you come here often,” he said, swatting cakes of
mud off the knees of his pants.
I wondered if that was some German version of the old pickup
line for a second, but tossed the thought away.
“Yes. I’m familiar with the area. I watch the birds so I can
paint them.” I took a step onto solid ground, mud all the way up my boots but
sparing my pants. Good. There would be hell to pay if my pants were caked with
mud. “I’m Florian.” I held out my hand.
“Dieter,” he said as he shook my hand.
I stomped my feet to get some of the mud off my boots. They
would dry soon enough and the mud would flake off pretty easily. “On vacation I
take it? Judging by the accent and all.”
“In a way.” Dieter pulled off his hat, exposing light blond
hair down to his shoulders that would make a model green with envy. “I’m here
on business and decided to take some time to see the sights.” He held up his
binoculars. “I study birds back in Bavaria and wanted to get a look at some of
yours here. I didn’t realize there would be hazards.” He smiled a little, and I
relaxed. At least Dieter had a decent sense of humor to go along with an
amazing smile and eyes the color of the sky. My cheeks heated as thoughts of
what I’d like to do with his full pink lips went through my head.
Saturday, April 14, 2018
Chains of Silver by: Claudia H. Long w/ Interview & Giveaway
Title: Chains of
Silver
Author: Claudia H. Long
Series: Tendrils of the Inquisition Book 3
Genre: Historical Fiction/ Historical Romance
Publisher: Five Directions Press
Release Date: Mar 15 2018
Editions/Formats: 1st Edition ~ Formats eBook
& Print
Blurb/Synopsis:
Crypto-Jews, secret Jews of Spain and Mexico, are still very
much in danger in 1721. Fourteen-year-old Marcela Leon's parents are dragged
away to face the last auto-da-fé of the Inquisition in colonial Mexico.
Although her parents survive, Marcela’s life is forever changed. Sent to the
Castillo hacienda for her protection, Marcela has difficulty grasping that
safety requires silence about her beliefs. Her forthright speech and budding
sexuality lead her into situations beyond her comprehension, ending with her
exile to the northern silver-mining town of Zacatecas, where she becomes
housekeeper to a Catholic priest.
Marcela grows up to be one of the richest, most powerful
women in Zacatecas, adjusting to her separation from her mother and the loss of
her religion. But she can neither understand nor forgive her mother’s obstinacy
and abandonment. Her husband's death unleashes a new cascade of disasters, and
Marcela at last recognizes and appreciates the source of her mother's power,
and her own.
“Marcela, I told you there would be no Judaizing in this
house. Yes,” he said, gesturing to Consuelo, “she can teach her children
whatever she wishes, but I told you, I am the master of this house, and I will
not have my children indoctrinated with your heresy. Consuelo has respected my
order, but you have not.”
“That is not true!” I exclaimed. “I did nothing of the sort!
Who said this? Was it that whore, Martha?”
“Watch your mouth,” Juan Carlos said.
“Joaquin?” Consuelo said.
“No, Marcela. Not Martha. Badilón. My son. And he would not
lie.”
“Consuelo just said I wouldn’t either. And I didn’t. I
don’t. I didn’t. What did he say?” I could hear my voice out of control, and
those tears I had stopped earlier now flowed freely. “I never…”
Joaquin narrowed his eyes. “Are you calling my son a liar?”
“Wait,” Consuelo said, holding up a hand. “What did he say,
Joaquin?”
“She told them some heretical story about a queen named
Jezebel. A Jewish queen. The queen of the Jews.”
They stared at me. “Doña Consuelo,” I appealed. “You know
that story, don’t you? It’s in the Bible. It isn’t heresy.”
“Which gospel?” Joaquin asked.
I swallowed. “Not in the gospels. In the Bible. Kings.”
“The Bible of Moses? The Hebrew Bible?”
“It’s the first part of the Bible! The part with Adam and
Eve. Adam and Eve aren’t heresy, are they?”
“Don’t get smart with me!” Joaquin was red under his brown
skin, and a vein pumped in his temple.
“Marcela,” Consuelo said, “it’s a story from the Bible. But
you must only tell stories that are in the Christian part of the Bible. Don’t
you understand that?”
I shook my head. “It’s one of the only books we had. I read
every word of it. I didn’t know some stories couldn’t be told.” I wiped the
tears that wouldn’t stop.
“Don’t cry,” Joaquin said. “You disgust me. As you yourself
said, you’re not a child anymore.”
Joaquin’s words stung. The words had been said under much
different circumstances. And they didn’t escape Consuelo. “What’s this?”
Juan Carlos rose. “As of this morning, Joaquin wanted to
marry Marcela.”
#
I spent the night awake in my room. For the next three days
I did the chores I normally did, took the little ones, changed the diapering
cloths, and helped Columbina, Ernesto, and Josefina-Merced with their letters.
I ate with the family and was treated, if anyone deigned to notice me at all,
like a ghost. I did not reenter Josefina’s office.
On Sunday the entire family went to Mass. Joaquin said nothing
to me, looked through me. I was not given charge of any of the children, and no
one spoke to me except as absolutely necessary. When the midday meal was
served, Joaquin cleared his throat.
“Marcela, you will be leaving us. I have written to your mother,
and she has agreed. You will be traveling to Zacatecas, in the north, where you
will keep house for my brother Neto. He is a priest in that city and in need of
a housekeeper. You leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I will be going home tomorrow?”
“No, you will not be going home at all. Your mother has
agreed. It is too dangerous for you in Hermosillo still, and she hasn’t the
means to protect you.”
“Or feed you,” Juan Carlos added.
Joaquin shook his head. “I will see to it that your family
doesn’t starve. But you will be leaving, and taking your troublemaking ways
with you. Your mother was not pleased by our report, you must know.”
I was so taken aback that I was silent.
“She should not have been surprised,” Juan Carlos said. “She
herself has beguiled the entire city of Hermosillo, glowing as she does. It
seems the apple did not fall far from that tree.”
“Nothing to say? No gratitude?” Joaquin said.
Finally I found my tongue. “Your report?”
“She brought you up to be a decent girl. She has no idea
where you got the wiles to attempt a seduction. She is ashamed of you.”
“A seduction? It was you! You who kissed me!”
Consuelo laughed shortly. “You have a lot to learn, young
lady. If your mother didn’t teach you, this will. A girl’s virtue is her only
worth in a man’s eyes.”
“An unfair comment,” Juan Carlos said.
“Hardly. And your virtue is yours to defend, Marcela. By
God’s grace, Joaquin saw through your wiles.”
I could not speak. My defense of my blamelessness would fall
on deaf ears, not the least of which were my own. I had enjoyed the kisses, I
had wanted more of them, and not only to benefit my family. I stared down at my
hands, my face suffused with shame.
Consuelo said my name softly. “A stint in the mountains,
away from bad family influences, will do you a world of good. You are a smart
girl, as smart as a boy, and as unscrupulous. But your heart is good, and you
will grow into a better woman away from here.” I could not meet her eyes. “In
any event,” she went on, “it is decided. So go pack your trunk, and say your
prayers. Zacatecas is a mining town, its citizens are rough-hewn, but the air
is reported to be good and the future is yours to make of it what you will.”
A mining town in the mountains, far from my mother. I could
not imagine a worse sentence for my crimes. I didn’t know which of my two sins
was the greater: drawing the eye of a powerful man or telling the story of a
queen.
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