After writing her first big byline about a murder, journalist, Susan Weston is plagued with phone calls from the killer.

Available from Amazon at: http://amzn.to/PjLvDp

A.M. Westerling's blurb will appear on Feb. 22nd. Come back and check it out.

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Book releases from http://bookswelove.net/ http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php

amazon.com/author/roseannedowell

Possum Soul/From the Bottom of the Bin

We're at the bottom of the bin, yes we possum are. Sometimes this bothers us, sometimes not. If I can borrow the royal (or insane) "we," I'll talk possum to you. I've been slogging away out here, serving the muse to the best of my ability, writing, and "scribbling, bibbling," as Amadeus had it, for many years now. My life feels like the movie 9-5, as others, newer to the game, vault over my back and climb the ladder to glory. I, instead, scuttle about in your moon lit backyard and hope that some drunken late night kid driver doesn't run me over, just for laughs.

Sometimes the past is larger than the future. This is happening to my cohort right about now. We were born just before the "baby boom," which has been following us around on big loud feet ever since we saw the light of day. At first, we were remarkable, because we were the tail end of the "baby bust." Depression and a World War had left children scarce on the ground, but then, suddenly, we were a cool rarity no longer simply because we were young children. I remember this feeling of sinking popularity, so can relate to old Hollywood actors whose glory days have come and gone.  By the fifties, everybody had a hoard of little brothers and sisters, except of course for me, the lonely only. I early learned that a mysterious Something called The RH factor had removed that possibility, though I'm not entirely certain either parent was interested in more than the one semi-obligatory child.

Sometimes the past is larger than the future. Very long ago--oh, eons--we marsupials were forerunners of that wildly successful line of placental mammals who have taken over this planet. We possum, parent tribe, alone remain in the West, tenderly snuffling about in hedges for bugs. slugs and worms and the lump of cassarole the old woman next door so thoughtfully threw out. We also like persimmon trees, grapes, berries, and fallen fruit in orchards. Sour or slimy or sweet, it's all grist to the old mill. Maybe, after the killer apes have finally blown themselves to smithereens, a few of us, the ancient possum, will still be shuffling about, nosing quietly through the ruins of what is so saucily termed "civilization."




~~Juliet Waldron

http://cronehenge.blogspot.com
http://www.amazon.com/author/julietwaldron

BOOKS WE LOVE BLURBATHON-VIJAYA SCHARTZ

 

BOOKS WE LOVE BLURBATHON – VIJAYA SCHARTZ

CURSE OF THE LOST ISLE, Medieval Fantasy Romance series, by Vijaya Schartz

http://www.amazon.com/author/vijayaschartz

From history shrouded in myths, emerges a family of immortal Celtic Ladies, who roam the medieval world in search of salvation from a curse. For centuries, imbued with hereditary gifts, they hide their deadly secret… but if the Church ever suspects what they really are, they will be hunted, tortured, and burned at the stake.

Book 1 – PRINCESS OF BRETAGNE (Scotland 806 AD)

Book 2 – PAGAN QUEEN

Book 3 – SEDUCING SIGEFROI (963 AD Luxembourg)

Book 4 – LADY OF LUXEMBOURG (coming out very soon).

CURSE OF THE LOST ISLE SPECIAL EDITION (contains the first three novels in one download).

5-star review on Amazon – “Edgy medieval, Yeah!”

“Schartz is an accomplished writer, whose pacing, conflicts, and goals are always complex and whose good characters are always likeable, and whose villains are evil incarnate. You have to like her villains as much as the good guys! Mattacks is a magnificent example of this!” – 5 stars – Manic Readers

Find out more about Vijaya Schartz and her books at http://www.vijayaschartz.com

Check this blog again on February 18, to meet author Juliet Waldron.

BWL Blurbathon

BWL BLURBATHON
Welcome to the Books We Love Blurbathon.

SAVAGE POSSESSION BY MARGARET TANNER
A sweeping tale of love's triumph over tragedy and treachery in frontier Australia .
A mistaken identity opens the door for Martin Mulvaney to take his revenge on the
granddaughter of his mortal enemy.
An old Scottish feud, a love that should never have happened, and a series of
extraordinary coincidences traps two lovers in a family vendetta that threatens
to destroy their love, if not their lives.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008EL0FTI


Please check back for more of these Blurbs, some traditional and non-traditional romance, too,
from BWL

Yet Another Reason to Thank the Canadians

(This is a post, a day late, for dear Mozart's Birthday.)

 

My local Public Radio station has stopped offering the Metropolitan Opera on Saturday afternoons in favor of cheaper and doubtless more popular talk show programs.  I’m sure to be in the minority here—what else is new?—but this, to me, feels like yet more evidence of the decline and fall of western civilization in these United States. I’m probably over-reacting, but I’ve been listening to the Met on Saturday afternoons ever since I can remember. At first, of course, not intentionally listening, but my mother loved the opera, and if she could find a radio station which carried it, winter afternoons, that was the music which soared through our house. I would sit on the floor beside her bed, where she was ensconced with a half-read murder mystery, the ever present cigarettes and a blonde cocker-spaniel , listening to the radio. Here I’d invent my own games and stories, moving toys across the woolen rugs. Opera seeped through my skin, I guess, and I learned composers and famous singers and opera lore simply by being present.  Long winter afternoons, gray and snowy—we lived in upstate New York—it was a perfect way to hide out from the endless inclement weather. The Met came to us in all its high culture glory across Lake Eire from civilized Toronto, the path of least resistance for radio waves.

 

So now, in a way, I’ve returned full circle to that childhood. I spend hours daily in front of my computer, and, blessedly, at this point, internet radio stations are plentiful. I’ve settled on the CBC for my Saturday afternoon fix of Donizetti, Verdi, Wagner, Mozart, Puccini et al, and it just occurred to me that in a way, I’m right back where I started from, listening to this beloved, hallowed, and increasingly hoary art form, courtesy of the kindly Canadian Broadcasting system.   

 ~~Juliet

 

http://www.julietwaldron.com

 

Possum Tracks Revisited

 

 

 

Why Possum Tracks? Because in the authorial world, that's the creature with which I identify, a small despised creature that scuttles quietly through the night, seeking a few crumbs with which to sustain my ability to create. I mind my business and gather what the others who are more fortunate have discarded, or what they will not consume, the grubs, worms, bugs, of this writing life. I'm not ashamed of what I am. It is necessary for some of us to clean up after the riotous dinners of the much-lauded others.

With sharp claws, I dig after the grubs of truth buried in the dirt of history. I persist; my lineage is ancient. My family lived in Gondowanaland ever so long ago, and my descendants--rare, strange and endangered--still remain in far off Australia, which drifted away from neighboring continents and became lost.

I will speak of the past, of the meaning of writing about history and occasionally about writing, but the last is mostly immaterial since we've all become scribblers in this electronic (and probably short-lived) all-consuming age. I will talk about men and women and about their tangled relations, about love, power, character,good and evil, night and day, and about the small creatures of the earth and the flight of birds, moonrise and set, and about the signs of nature which exist to illuminate and delight even the most dreary life.

http://cronehenge.blogspot.com
http://www.julietwaldron.com

~~Juliet Waldron