Tag Archives: Historical Fiction

Owen – Blitz

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The Tudor Trilogy, Book One
Historical
Fiction
Publisher:
Presei Press
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Based
on the true story of a forgotten hero, OWEN is the epic tale of one young man’s
incredible courage and resilience as he changes the course of English history.
England
1422: Owen Tudor, a Welsh servant, waits in Windsor Castle to meet his new
mistress, the beautiful and lonely Queen Catherine of Valois, widow of the
warrior king, Henry V. Her infant son is crowned King of England and France,
and while the country simmers on the brink of civil war, Owen becomes her
protector.
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 Excerpt
 
Winter
of 1422
I
tense at the sound of approaching footsteps as I wait to meet my new mistress,
the young widow of King Henry V, Queen Catherine of Valois. Colourful Flemish
tapestries decorate the royal apartments of Windsor Castle, dazzling my senses
and reminding me how life in the royal household presents new opportunities. My
life will change forever, if she finds me acceptable, yet doubt nags at my
mind.
The
doors open and Queen Catherine’s usher appears. I have been told to approach
the queen and bow, but must not look directly at her or speak, other than to
say my name, until spoken to. Taking a deep breath I enter the queen’s private
rooms where she sits surrounded by her sharp-eyed ladies-in-waiting. I have the
briefest glimpse of azure silk, gold brocade, gleaming pearls and a breath of
exotic perfume. I remove my hat and bow, my eyes cast down to her
velvet-slippered feet.
‘Owen
Tudor, Your Highness, Keeper of your Wardrobe.’ My voice echoes in the
high-ceilinged room.
One
of her ladies fails to suppress her giggle, a sweet enough sound, if you are
not the reason for it. I forget my instruction and look up to see the queen
regarding me with confident, ice-blue eyes.
‘You
are a Welshman?’ Her words sound like an accusation.
‘My
full name is Owain ap Maredydd ap Tudur, although the English call me Owen
Tudor. I come from a long line of Welsh noblemen, Your Highness.’ I regret my
boast as soon as I say the words.
‘Owen
Tudor…’ This time her voice carries a hint of amusement.
I
put on my hat and pull my shoulders back. She examines me, as one might study a
horse before offering a price. After years of hard work I have secured a
position worthy of my skills, yet it means nothing without the approval of the
queen.
‘You
look more like a soldier than a servant?’ The challenge in her words seems to
tease me.
‘I
have served in the king’s army as a soldier.’ I feel all their eyes upon me.
‘Yet…
you have no sword?’ She sounds curious.
‘Welshmen
are not permitted to carry a sword in England, Your Highness.’ I am still
bitter at this injustice.
I
remember the last time I saw her, at the king’s state funeral in Westminster.
Her face veiled, she rode in a gilded carriage drawn by a team of black horses.
I followed on foot as the funeral procession passed through sombre crowds,
carrying the king’s standard and wearing the red, blue and gold livery of the
royal household.
‘You
fought in France?’
‘With
the king’s bowmen, Your Highness, before I became a squire.’
The
queen has none of the air of sadness I expected. Slim, almost too thin, her
childlike wrists and delicate fingers are adorned with gold rings sparkling
with diamonds and rubies. Her neck is long and slender, her skin pale with the
whiteness of a woman who rarely sees the sun. Her golden-brown hair is gathered
in tight plaits at the back of her head and her headdress fashionably
emphasises her smooth, high forehead.
King
Henry V chose as his bride the youngest daughter of the man they called the
‘mad king’, Charles VI. They said King Charles feared he was made of glass and
would shatter if he didn’t take care. Charles promised Henry he would inherit
the throne and become the next King of France and there were rumours of a
secret wedding dowry, a fortune in gold.
Barely
a year into his marriage, the king left his new wife pregnant and alone in
Windsor. He returned to fight his war in France, capturing the castle of Dreux
before marching on the fortress at Meaux, defended by Jean de Gast, the Bastard
of Vaurus, a cruel, brave captain. The king never saw his son and heir, his
namesake.
The
siege of Meaux was hard won and he suffered the bloody flux, the dreaded curse
of the battlefield. Men had been known to recover, if they were strong and
lucky. Many did not, despite the bloodletting and leeches. The flux is an
inglorious way to die, poisoned by your own body, especially for a victorious
warrior king who would never now be King of France.
The
queen has an appraising look in her eyes. She has buried her hopes for the
future along with her husband. I remember I am looking at the mother of the new
king, once he comes of age. One thing is certain; she will not be left to raise
the prince alone. Ambitious men are already vying for their share of power and
influence.
At
last she speaks. ‘And now you are in my household?’
‘My
appointment to your service was made by Sir Walter Hungerford, Steward of the
King’s Household and constable here at Windsor.’
‘Sir
Walter was one of my husband’s most trusted men—the executor of the king’s
will.’
‘I
worked as squire to Sir Walter for many years, in England and France.’
‘You
speak French?’
‘A
little, Your Highness.’ I answer in French.
‘Were
you with King Henry at the siege of Rouen?’ Now she speaks in French.
‘I
was, Your Highness. I will never forget it.’ I answer again in French. I
learned the language on the battlefield and in the taverns of Paris and can
swear as well as any Frenchman.
‘I
heard the people of Rouen were starving… before they surrendered.’ Her voice
is softer now and she speaks in English.
‘War
is cruel, yet now there is less appetite for it.’
‘I
pray to God that is true.’ She glances back at her ladies, who are watching and
listening, as ladies-in-waiting do. Queen Catherine regards me, giving nothing
away. ‘I welcome you to our household, Master Tudor.’
‘Thank
you, Your Highness.’
Our
first meeting is over. She is unlike any woman I have known, fascinating, intriguing
and beautiful. More than that; there is something about her I find deeply
attractive, a dangerous thing to admit. Perhaps my fascination is with the
glimpse I’d seen of the real woman, the same age as myself, behind the title of
Dowager Queen of England.
‘Aim
high, boy,’ my garrulous longbow tutor once advised me, his voice gruff from
too much shouting. ‘It’s not the Welsh way to play safe and wait until you have
a clear shot!’ The man spits hard on the ground to add emphasis and stares
knowingly into my eyes, standing so close I can almost feel the coarse grey
stubble of his beard. ‘When you aim high,’ he points an imaginary bow up at the
sky, ‘your arrow will fly far into the enemy ranks and strike with the full
vengeance of God.’
‘Who,
of course, is on our side.’ A daring, foolhardy thing for a boy like me to say
to a man who can punch me to the ground or worse.
For
a moment I see the old man’s mind working as he tries to decide if I am being
disrespectful, sacrilegious or both. The moment passes. I notch a new arrow
into the powerful yew longbow and fire it high into the sky, without a care for
where it will fall.
I
smile at the memory as I return down the long passage to the servants’ hall.
Life as a king’s archer was hard, but I enjoyed the camaraderie of the other
men and it taught me many things. As well as how to use a longbow, I learned to
watch my back, when to speak up and when to remain silent. My tutor died in the
thick mud of Normandy, yet his lesson serves me well. I know to aim high.
That
night, wide awake in the darkness, I reflect on the unthinkable turn my life
has taken. I always imagined I would become a merchant, setting up shop
somewhere in the narrow, dirty streets of London, or perhaps an adventurer,
sailing off to seek my fortune. I remain a servant, yet for the first time I
have my own lodging room, however small and cramped.
My
reward for long and loyal service as squire to Sir Walter has been this new
appointment, a position of great responsibility. The queen’s wardrobe is a
treasure store of priceless gold and jewels, as well as all her expensive
clothes and most valuable possessions. Such a senior post in the royal
household pays more than I have earned in my life and carries influence,
allowing me regular and privileged access to the queen.
I
resolve to become indispensable to her. High and mighty lords and dukes will
come and go, with their false concerns and self-serving advice, yet I will see
her every day, tending to her needs. I recall how she referred to Sir Walter as
one of the king’s most trusted men. That is what I wish to become; Queen
Catherine’s most trusted man.
óóó
About
the Author

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Tony
Riches is a UK historical fiction author living in Pembrokeshire, Wales. You
can find out more on Tony’s website www.tonyriches.com and his blog ‘The
Writing Desk’ at www.tonyriches.co.uk.
Find him on Twitter @tonyriches. Owen – Book One of the Tudor Trilogy is
available in eBook and paperback on Amazon, where it is a #1 historical fiction
bestseller.  There is a short video
trailer for the book on YouTube https://youtu.be/ELH4IU5pxds
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Links
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Links

 

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Home to Kentucky – Blitz

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The McCoys: Before The Feud, Book Two
Historical
Fiction
Publisher:
Western Presse Publishing
Published:
February 2019
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A
treacherous journey. Wagons packed with gold. Will the McCoys outrun a group of
lawmen or swing from the gallows?
Kansas,
1865. Wiley McCoy can’t wait to return home. He counts down the days until his
family can stop laying low and return to Kentucky with the rightfully plundered
valuables they took back for the South. But crossing the open prairie with four
wagons full of gold may bring Wiley a lethal set of new problems.
With
desperate outlaws and opportunistic deserters at every turn, Wiley and the other
McCoys must watch their backs to survive. But they never expected their
greatest enemy to come in the form of ten brilliant Pinkerton detectives…
Can
Wiley make it home before the lawmen slip a rope around his neck?
Home
to Kentucky is the second book in The McCoys: Before the Feud saga of
historical Western novels. If you like determined heroes, realistic Southern
settings, and quests for justice, then you’ll love Thomas A. McCoy’s
treacherous wagon ride.
Other
Books in the The McCoys Before The Feud Series:
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The
McCoys Before The Feud
Publisher:
Western Presse Publishing
Published:
January 2019
A
corrupt general. A stockpile of plundered Southern riches. Can a proud family
reclaim the gold for its rightful owners?
Kansas-Missouri
border, 1865. Tommy McCoy burns for justice. Reeling from the end of the bloody
Civil War, he learns that a corrupt Northern general has raided the bounty of
the Confederacy and plans to keep it. Tommy and his shrewd father vow to get
back the valuables for innocent Southern families or die trying.
With
time running out before the general’s reinforcements arrive, Tommy risks a
deadly confrontation in a series of secret raids. Can he secure the rightful
Confederate property before the North deals the McCoys a final crushing blow?
The
McCoys: Before the Feud is the first book in a deeply-researched historical
Western saga. If you like dusty battles, a different point of view on
yesteryear, and twists you won’t see coming, then you’ll love Thomas A. McCoy’s
gripping tale of justice for the people.
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Back
At The Ranch
The
McCoys Before The Feud, Book Three
Publisher:
Western Presse Publishing
Published:
March 2019
Southern
honor. Northern greed. The cost of failure could be their lives…
Kansas,
1865. Tommy McCoy sees a bright future ahead. After succeeding in several risky
raids to reclaim the South’s gold from a thieving Union general, he’s finally
back home with the woman he loves. But when Pinkerton detectives start snooping
around, he’s worried his temporary comfort will end with execution.
To
keep his family safe, Tommy devises an ingenious but dicey plan to protect his
family from suspicion. After some of the McCoys refuse to take part in the high-stakes scheme, Tommy may lack the men he needs to outmaneuver the law one
final time…
Will
Tommy evade the Pinkertons or will his family’s rightful property fill a
corrupt general’s pockets?
Back
at the Ranch is the third book in the McCoys: Before the Feud historical
Western saga. If you like go-for-broke action, clever twists, and turns, and
good people fighting for what’s right, then you’ll love Thomas A. McCoy’s
riveting adventure.
About
the Author


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Thomas
Allan McCoy is a direct descendant of the original McCoy family that was
involved in the start of the feud between the Hatfields and McCoys, and an
author of new Western books of realistic fiction.
His
new book series, The McCoys Before The Feud, is about what the real McCoys
would have done during the events portrayed in the novels. Being direct a descendant of the real McCoys (The original family that started the feud) gives
him an insight as to their character and how their actions would have played
out.
Thomas
blends factual events of the 1860s with his own ideas and literary devices. The
writing in these new Western books is in the traditional Western style,
presented in an enjoyable, readable fashion that leads to entertaining
storylines and interconnected reading experience.
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The Other Side of Him – Blitz

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Historical
Fiction, Historical Mystery
Publisher: California Country Press
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A
smart, successful girl finds herself trapped in dangerous relationship with a
stalker.
It’s
the middle of the twentieth century, World War II is finally over, and Claire
Wagner is on the brink of an exciting new life. With a well-deserved
scholarship in hand, and much to her immigrant mother’s dismay, Claire flees
the Chicago tenements for a prestigious graduate school program in California.
At
first Claire keeps her nose tucked firmly into her books, but when her brother
asks for a favor, she reluctantly agrees to a blind date. Greg turns out to be
handsome, successful, and rich—and he’s definitely smitten with Claire. He
introduces her to a sophisticated world she thought only existed in the movies,
and before she knows it she’s trading her bobby socks and German home cooking
for black silk and caviar.
When
Greg starts to show signs that he’s not as perfect as he appeared, Claire’s
friends urge her to overlook his occasional short temper and controlling
behavior. But the warning signs pile up, building to a crisis that will test
even Claire’s power to persevere.
Inspired
by true events and steeped in the details of the 1950s, when vulnerable women
weren’t protected by the law or society, The Other Side of Him is a provocative
look at how darkness can lie under the most polished exteriors.
About
the Author

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Alice
Rene wrote her award-winning memoir, Becoming Alice, after a grandson
interviewed her about her early life when Hitler marched into Vienna,
foreshadowing in WWII. She followed this work with a historical fiction/ romantic a thriller inspired by true events, The Other Side of Him. The working title of
her next book at this time is The Lieutenant from Podolia.
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The Other Angel – Blitz

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Historical Fiction
Published: February 2019
Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
 
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The Other Angel is a dramatic, startling tale of how four young people from diverse backgrounds, each with their own aspirations and values, become unlikely though firm friends. It is an absorbing story that will attract readers as they get to know the characters, whose disparate lives intertwine before the Civil War splits them up. The Gettysburg battle aftermath brings them back together. It is an exciting story filled with breathtaking scenarios of plots, war and espionage, as well as romance and pathos. The story will resonate with readers as it unfolds to an emotion-charged conclusion that will invoke their empathy.
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About the Author

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Ann Covell is a British citizen and lives in England’s glorious south-west. Ann had a long career with the British health service research section, and also served as a Justice of the Peace in England.  Her interests include history, writing and politics. She is the author of “Remembering the Ladies” (a book of unique essays on the 19th century U.S. First Ladies,) and “First Lady, Jane Pierce,” who was the 14th U,S, First Lady”.
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The Impaler’s Wife – Book Tour

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Part of a Fearless Women in History series
Historical fiction, Historical Romance, Gothic Romance
Published Date: April 3, 2019
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The year is 1464 and young King Matthias controls Hungary, his family, and the fate of the world’s most notorious political prisoner, Prince Vlad Dracula. 
 Ilona Szilágy, the king’s cousin, is young and ambitious. Dracula is determined to marry into the Hunyadi family. It is love at first sight…but the king has other plans. The Impaler Prince, however, never takes no for an answer.
This begins Ilona’s journey into the treacherous world of court intrigues, family betrayals, and her husband’s dark desires. Eager to become Vlad’s trusted confidant, Ilona soon discovers that marriage to man tortured by his past comes with a price.
Woven throughout is a peek into the life and times of one of the world’s most enigmatic and maligned rulers…the man before the legend.
With Bardot’s decadent period detail and a cast of gritty evocative characters, The Impaler’s Wife offers a fierce yet sensuous glimpse into the violent 15th century.

 

Excerpt

Prince Vlad rests his hand on the small of my back. “Come, Lady Ilona, look at the faces of anarchy and villainy, and see how much they resemble your friends and family.”

“I will not.” I back away from the entrance where moans rise from the bowels of the labyrinth like a demon’s song.

“The choice is yours, of course.” His tone is low and gentle, but in the lamplight his stare is wolf like.

I shift from foot to foot, look away, only to glance back. Does he hear my heart knocking against my breast?  Can he smell my fear as it beads wet on my neck? Do I want to rise to this challenge? Or am I a fool for allowing him to bait me?

My fingers tighten around the lamp’s clay handle. “I will humor you, my lord, but only because Father taught me courage and graciousness.”

“Mihály taught you well.” He holds out his hand. “My lady.”

The lamp divides the darkness like a saber, each foot forward lighting our descent into hell. Ghostly groans from below seep through the rock. I sink into Vlad’s fur-lined coat as though their suffering will soak into my soul.

Vlad pauses before descending the narrow rock steps leading into the labyrinth’s deepest level. “Are you certain?” His eyes glint with challenge. “A weak constitution is nothing to be ashamed of.”

I lift my chin and glare with pretended insult. “I am the daughter of Michael Szilágyi and Margit Báthory. Iron courage flows in my blood.” I push back my cuff and show him the blue-forked veins in my wrist. “I am as brave as Hadak Ura, our ancient pagan warlord.”

“I believe you, my lady. I will not doubt again.”

The clanking chains and eerie moans get louder with each step down, the noises merging into a demonic choir like that of Ördög’s requiem to the Underworld. My legs shake, my neck wet with icy prickles, and my skin tightens around my chest.

I lift the lamp into hell.

The circle of light shines upon a pockmarked man stretching his arm between the bars, his fingers curled like claws. “Bless me, good sister.”

In the cell next to him, a naked wretch spits onto the ground. “Menj a fenébe!”

“I am innocent!” A third prisoner grabs the bars and presses his wild-bearded face against the iron. “Tell His Highness there is a Turkish spy in his court. He is in danger! You must warn him!”

My head swivels toward Prince Vlad.

“There are always spies,” Vlad whispers.

I walk with measured pace and let the lantern reveal each doomed prisoner. Most stare, empty-eyed; the whips, chains, skin shredders, bone crushers, and strappado take away all hope and spirit. Others shout obscenities. One man kneels, hands in prayer, and mutters the Hail Mary.

The weight of their misery crashes down, squeezes my heart, and crushes my breath. This place must be worse than hell’s torments because these wretches yet live, have all their faculties! No one deserves this! It is inhumane! Sadistic and depraved!

My breath comes in shreds and clumps. I cover my nose with Prince Vlad’s cape, the stench of rotting flesh enfolding me in its putrid embrace. My pace quickens. It is time to end this test of my courage.

“You!” A milky-eyed wretch points to Prince Vlad and begins chanting in a foreign tongue.

Prince Vlad guides me away from the cells. “You have thrice over proven your courage tonight.”

“What language was that man speaking?”

“He recites from the Corpus Hermeticum.” Dracula takes the lantern and illuminates the stairwell. “It’s a pagan book of alchemy, astronomy, and metaphysics.”

“It sounded like he cursed us.”

“Pay no attention to a madman’s rants. That particular book is nothing but Egyptian and Greek nonsense.”

I tread upwards, evil’s chill clinging to my limbs. At the top, I try to purge the dungeon’s misery, malice, and madness with a long exhalation. Yet the horror sticks like nettles in my soul.

“This way.” I move past the dark tunnel and enter the lighted one, relieved to put space and distance between the prisoners and me.

The tunnel ends at a large grotto where Prince Vlad pauses to light the ring of torches affixed to the walls. I wait on a stone bench near the baptismal fount, sighing with relief as the golden glow of the church-like arches infuses peace into my troubled soul.

Prince Vlad sits beside me. “We go from hell to heaven.”

I tuck a stray lock behind my ear. “This was Father’s favorite grotto. God’s Buried Cathedral, he called it. His second favorite has a Titan-sized head emerging from the ground—like a god got stuck in molten rock. I was only in that grotto once. It reminded me of an insect trapped in tree sap that ages to amber—the insect forever entombed—never aging, almost alive in its resin grave.”

“Do you find that horrific or beautiful?” His eyes search mine.

“Both I suppose.” My shoulders move into my sigh. “Caves are dreary places.”

“I rather enjoy them. Tunnels have saved my life several times.” Dracula stands. “I think we are both ready for fresh air.” He offers his hand, its warmth a familiar comfort.

Together we walk through the tunnel lit by small lanterns that flicker like fireflies all the way to the exit.

Prince Vlad gives the stubborn iron-crossed door a hard yank and it groans open. Outside, a sapphire dawn drapes over Buda.

“On no.” My hands fly to my face. “It’s so late it’s early.” Were we in the tunnels that long? If my aunts discover I never returned to my room…I spin about, my voice edged with panic. “I have to go back. Now.”

Vlad’s brows crease with concern. He tugs a handkerchief from his robe and touches it to my lips as though dabbing at a smudge. “There’s something I must do first.” He lays the linen over my lips and sets his mouth on mine.

Even through the thin fabric, his lips sear my own. I part my lips, feel the linen moisten with the breath of our lust. I collapse into him, my body sizzling with desire. I am about to rip away the fabric and taste his lips when he breaks the kiss.

Vlad Dracula steps back, the handkerchief between thumb and forefinger. “If you marry Luigi della Scala you will still be chaste.” He drags the handkerchief across his mouth. “I will always have this.”

Chaste? Prince Vlad just violated my heart and corrupted my flesh!

Back in my chambers, I touch my lips that still burn with the memory of our kiss—my first kiss—and groan. Vlad Dracula used my virtue, conceit, and fears to study the labyrinth’s secrets. He took advantage of my desire for romantic adventure to learn the escape route.

About the Author

 

Autumn Bardot writes smart erotica and historical fiction about sassy women, spicy sex, and daring passions!
 Her erotica includes Legends of Lust, ( Cleis Press )and Confessions Of A Sheba Queen ( Cleis Jan 2020).  Autumn has a BA in English literature and a MaEd in curriculum and instruction. She’s been teaching writing and literary analysis for fourteen years. Autumn lives in Southern California with her hubby, rescue pooch, and ever-increasing family.  Her favorite things include salty French fries, coffee, swimming, and a great book.
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