Once Upon an Enchanted Forest
September 16, 2019 by A Slice of Orange in category Spotlight tagged as anthologies, Bethany Adams, Charissa Weaks, pre-orders, romance, witchcraft
Including stories from Award-Winning, New York Times, and USA Today Bestselling Authors
The autumnal equinox is a celestial event that brings together harvest and celebration, symbolizes magick and transformation, and welcomes a balance of light and darkness. It’s a time when those who honor the changing seasons rest and reflect.
Or reap what they’ve sown.
Once Upon an Enchanted Forest, a collection of adult fantasy romances, features ten novelettes centered around one of the most enchanting preternatural beings of the ages: the witch. With lovers, magical forests, and witchcraft, our stories are sure to warm your nights and your dark little heart.
About our collection:
- In the aftermath of a deadly Harvest Moon festival, the valley’s Witch Collector and a voiceless diviner venture into Frostwater Wood—a forest transformed into a dangerous, ever-changing maze—in hopes of saving their king from certain death.
- Desperate to escape her village, cobbler Rhianne braves the enchanted wood to find the Witch and her matchmaking loom. But when the loom weaves her a highborn match, the Witch flies into a rage that will set Rhianne’s fate on fire.
- After a drunken man falsely claims his daughter can spin straw into gold, a peasant woman—accused of witchcraft and facing death at the hands of the Mad King—must manage the impossible with no more than a wooden spindle and a prayer—and perhaps the aid of a dashing Fae she never saw coming.
- In a place called Wolfswood, Rosaline, a talented hunter, must face cursed and deadly creatures on the night of the autumnal equinox if she’s to save her people—and the woman she loves.
- When a wounded sorcerer infiltrates the boundary protecting her home, Thalia, Queen of the Dryads, must choose whether to trust this foreigner who’s quickly claiming her heart or uproot the seeds of affection growing between them and send him away.
- After a fatal accident places a village in grave danger, Yula, a young woman with unpredictable magick, is guided by a handsome knight on her quest to find the only person who can help her—the legendary and evil Dark Queen.
- In a time of war, a witch possessing healing powers, is tasked with saving the life of her wounded king, all while trying not to lose her heart to his brutish right-hand man.
- A young man struggling with his own identity journeys to a modern-day witch living in a lonely forest garden, and is presented with an unexpected connection and a tantalizing choice.
- In an enchanted garden deep in the heart of London, the elven scout Tarah guards the portal to her realm, a boring task after so many centuries. But when a dragon awakens in the countryside, searching for his stolen hoard, life becomes anything but mundane—especially when the dragon decides that Tarah might be the greatest treasure of all.
This anthology also includes a new story from the brilliant Juliet Marillier, author of the Sevenwaters Trilogy and many other historical fantasy novels, including Beautiful, an Audible Exclusive, and her coming release, The Harp of Kings.
Now, sit back and let us tell you a tale. Welcome to The Enchanted Forest.
Books in the Once Upon Anthologies Collection
Sister Carmelita Put the Fear of God in Me
September 15, 2019 by Rebecca Forster in category The Write Life by Rebecca Forster tagged as Catholic School, inspiration, Suspense, writing
Rebecca is swamped today, so we’re featuring one of her more popular posts from our archives.
The day I stood in the choir loft surrounded by my fourth grade peers I had no idea that I was about to learn a lesson in suspense, terror, fear, retribution and resolution that would lead me to a career as a thriller author.
The day was hot, air-conditioning was unheard of, and we wore our itchy, ugly, brown wool Catholic school uniforms year ‘round to save our parents money. I was a very good girl. I never drew attention to myself, folded my hands with fingers pointing heavenward when I prayed, picked up trash on the playground and helped pass out papers in class. But that day, I made a blunder that put me in Sister Carmelita’s crosshairs. As she raised her arms and positioned her baton in anticipation of another rousing chorus of a hymn I have long forgotten, I rolled my eyes. Yep, I rolled them to the back of my little ten-year-old head in frustration and exhaustion.
Sister Carmelita cut her own my way. I realize now that she had mastered the art of eye cutting because she couldn’t move her head given her the box-like wimple. Everyone stopped breathing. No one knew what I had done, only that I had done something very, very bad.
“Miss Forster.” Sister Carmelita’s voice was modulated appropriately for God’s house. “Wait after choir.”
My stomach lurched. I felt light headed. I was doomed.
Sister Carmelita is long gone. During her time on earth she faced changes in her church and her life, but I doubt she ever knew how that day changed me. So, if you’re listening, Sister, I want you to know that, 30 years later, that moment sealed my fate. I spend my days writing thrillers, trying to recapture the exquisite sense of suspense I experienced that day. Here is what you taught me:
1) Less is More: Your understated notice of me, the glitter in your eye, the sound of your voice was more intriguing, more compelling, more enthralling than screaming, railing or ranting.
2) Timing is Everything: All 29 of my classmates knew I was in trouble. I knew I was in trouble. I even knew why I was in trouble (disrespecting you, God, choir practice, country, family and all living creatures with a roll of my eyes), yet you didn’t nip things in the bud with a mere instantaneous admonition. My comeuppance was exquisitely timed. You threw in an extra hymn to extend practice, studiously ignored me, meticulously folded your sheet music as my classmates silently went down the stairs. You waited until the door of the church closed, clicked and locked us together in that big, shadowy church before you turned.
3) The Devil’s in the Details: You were taller than me (back then almost everyone was taller than me), but that wasn’t why I was afraid. It was your whole package, the details of your awesome being that were so formidable. Covered head to toe in black, your face framed by your wimple (which, by the way, looked like the vice used during the Spanish Inquisition), your hands buried beneath the scapular that fell in a perfect column to the tips of your shoes, made for quite a package. But there was more: The scent of nun-perfume (I think it was soap, but it smelled like nun-perfume to me), the clack of those huge rosary beads attached to your wide belt, the squish of your rubber soled shoes. I saw all this, I heard all this, I smelled all this and each sense was heightened because of the hush surrounding us.
I remember your methodical advance into my personal space. I remember you lowering your eyes as I raised mine. The suspense was heart-stopping, the anticipation of my penance almost unbearable. Quite frankly, you were terrifying.
But here’s the funny thing: I don’t remember how it ended. Did you scold me, sister? Did you show mercy and forgiveness? I only remember being terrified. Like the brain of the seven year old Stephen King swears gives him inspiration for his horror books, you, Sister Carmelita, inspire every sentence I write in every thriller novel I pen. For that, I can’t thank you enough.
I also want you to know, I have never rolled my eyes at anything since that day in the choir loft.
Burls by Sally Paradysz
September 13, 2019 by Bethlehem Writers Group in category From a Cabin in the Woods by Members of Bethlehem Writers Group tagged as imperfect, intriguing, natureFrom our archives, a post by Sally Paradysz: Burls
On the outskirts of the area where I split wood stands a cherry tree. It isn’t huge, but it has at least two burls on it that I can see. I find burls extremely interesting, and at times I can’t stop staring at them. It is a living thing, and something that resembles sap drips from all over it and down onto the forest floor. I have one that I split open years ago, and it is gorgeous on the inside.
Actually, burls are a valuable wood product for artists, furniture makers, and wood sculptors. Some of the most exotic salad bowls and serving bowls I have ever seen are made from burls just like these.
From my book-lined cabin in the woods beside my home, I can see many of these burls standing out proudly from the trees on my land. The sap seems to draw the sunlight to them, and their glow is intriguing. It is yet another example of what can be hidden inside a shell or a human being. Something exquisite emerges once it is opened to be examined. This author of imperfect words wishes that once we open ourselves up to the world, we can walk away with hope and new life passions that will change our life forever……
Sal
Sally Paradysz wrote from a book-lined cabin in the woods beside the home she built from scratch. She was an ordained minister of the Assembly of the Word, founded in 1975. For two decades, she provided spiritual counseling and ministerial assistance. Sally completed undergraduate and graduate courses in business and journalism. She took courses at NOVA, and served as a hotline, hospital, and police interview volunteer in Bucks County, PA. She was definitely owned by her two Maine Coon cats, Kiva and Kodi.
Her book is available here:
Do Your Characters Think About Their Birthday?
September 12, 2019 by Denise M. Colby in category The Writing Journey by Denise Colby, Writing tagged as birthdays, characters, writing
So do your characters think about their birthdays at all?
Given that this month is my birthday month and it’s a big one for me, I thought I would go with a birthday theme for my post. I actually woke up on my birthday with a million thoughts racing through my head and one of them was my to do list and the need to find a topic for this post. And then the next thought that came into my mind, was what do the characters we write about feel about their birthday each year?
Then I wondered, if writers thought about their characters birthdays at all and if they addressed anything related to birthdays in their stories.
I’ll admit, it certainly hadn’t been something I’ve thought much about.
Questions such as:
- What do they think of as their birthday approaches?
- Do they have memories of certain years and milestones?
- How often does someone write a scene that includes a birthday?
- And would it be different if we were writing historical or contemporary?
I read a lot of books and I cannot recall any of recent talking about birthdays or their age that much. Not that that topic alone would be a fasinating read.
But as I had my fiftieth birthday dangled in front of me most of this year, the way it affected me was an interesting struggle. One I wasn’t expecting or knew how to deal with. I would think those parts might be interesting to incorporate some how in our character’s backstory.
I find it an interesting perspective to include your characters thoughts about birthdays and ages. Maybe no one ever celebrated their special day before. And all of a sudden they are thrown into a family that does. Or every year was made out to be “the one” special event of the year and now they’ve lost loved ones and it isn’t the same.
Also, milestones and how we celebrate them have changed. We grow older than people did a century ago, so there are more birthdays to celebrate. Or large families with ten children did not have a lot of extra funds, so gifts were not as plentiful as they are today. And today families live further away from each other than they did a century ago.
So it would seem the year our book is set would impact how our characters may look at birthdays.
Do you think the emotions over turning, say, 50, has changed much? What about 18? Or 21? Young adults married at a very young age a century ago, but now most young people wait till they are done with college. So, the focus on what the number means has changed over the years.
For me, this year has been full of trepidation, reflection, and assessment. Having health issues there have been several times I’ve wondered if I’d passed into a new normal. Low energy, unable to eat certain foods, has made me wonder if I was aging out of my prime. It’s quite comical, actually. What if this was the beginning of the end? I know . . . dramatic, but hey! I have felt it a bit this year.
So as my birthday approached, and I was trying to answer my husband’s question of what I wanted to do for my birthday, a part of me didn’t want to even address it. A few friends had felt that way as well, and I laughed it off, but when it hit me that way too, well, that was an interesting perspective. I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want to burden anyone or put anyone out. But why? Why did I feel this?
And my husband, being the gem he is, read between the lines and very patiently walked through question after question, just to make sure he understood. Which was something I really needed. Bless him, he didn’t want to get it wrong!
Birthdays come and go but I don’t think the emotions behind them have changed much.
Some people dread them, some want to celebrate them big, while others try to find something in the middle. Maybe we can take some of the birthday experiences around us and put them in our stories. Maybe not a specific scene, but knowing your characters perspective about their special day in the background may not be a bad way to incorporate why they are the way they are.
P.S. I googled “celebrating birthdays in a romance novel” after I wrote this post and did you know there are actually several stories that are centered around birthdays? I might just have to find a few and read them.
Christmas old home movies… and my mom bring back Christmas Once Again
September 11, 2019 by Jina Bacarr in category Jina’s Book Chat, Writing tagged as Boldwood Books, books, Christmas, holiday romance, trains, World War 2Christmas memories are forever…better yet if they’re on film.
Until you can’t find them.
I’m a good record keeper, my accountant loves me…my handwritten notes from trips abroad often help me shape a story, but I was devastated when I couldn’t find my old Christmas movies when I was a kid.
A mad search finally showed up a lost reel my dad shot at Christmas when I was in grade school. It was the only time we took movies at Christmas. We moved around a lot (I went to fifteen schools), and over the years the old movie camera stopped working…and well, you get the idea.
But this year I wanted to resurrect the old movies because of one short piece of film.
My mom hanging up Christmas stockings.
You see, I’ve just finished copyedits and proofreading my upcoming Boldwood Books release, Christmas Once Again and I dedicated my story to my mom.
So although her picture won’t appear in the dedication, here’s that special piece of film from my old home movies.
Thanks, Mom, for making every Christmas special.
Time travel back to Christmas 1943 on the home front
Exciting news re: my holiday Women’s Fiction novel CHRISTMAS ONCE AGAIN — release day is October 10th! It’s now up for pre-order at $2.99
On a cold December day in 1955, I got on a train to go back home for Christmas.
This is the story of what happened when I got off that train.
In 1943.
Christmas Once Again:
US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07V1QT9Z6
UK: www.amazon.co.uk/Christmas-Once-Again-Jina-Bacarr-ebook/dp/B07V1QT9Z6
More about Christmas Once Again as we get closer to pub date…
