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Archive for August, 2017

BLOGWORDS – Thursday 31 August 2017 – CHARACTER INTERVIEW – MERCEDES RENALDI

CHARACTER INTERVIEW – MERCEDES RENALDI

            “So many secrets that had been hidden for so long, and now they all seemed to be unraveling. And for whatever reason, they seemed to land at my feet.”

 

 

 

            “What was at stake, really? When we were girls our mysteries were made up. There were no real dead—or missing—bodies. No mysterious wealth suddenly appeared save in our imaginations. Leaves and bird feathers and pretty stones do not real wealth make.

 

 

rem:  Bonjour, Madame, bienvenue. It’s lovely to chat with you today.

MERCEDES:  blushes Bonjour, it is my honor to chat with you.

rem:  Congratulations on your new little one.

MERCEDES:  Merci. Would you like to hold her?

rem:  Would I? reaches for le bébé, Simmie gurgles and coos

MERCEDES:  smiles

rem:  Yes, now, you were born and raised on Saisons Plantation, n’est-ce pas? She’s beautiful by the way.

MERCEDES:  Merci. And oui, I have lived there my whole life.

rem:  Your friend, Simone, was missing for many years.

MERCEDES:  nods

rem:  Why did she come to you?

MERCEDES:  I was the detective when we were girls.

rem:  Detective?

MERCEDES:  laughs I enjoy reading, most especially detective stories.

rem:  I see. And why would Simone need your, uh, services?

MERCEDES:  There were suspicious circumstances surrounding her disappearance.

rem:  I understand she lost her memory also.

MERCEDES:  She did, but not total loss. She remembers some things, others she struggles with.

rem:  And you’re helping her with that.

MERCEDES:  Oui.

rem:  You are a true friend.

MERCEDES:  smiles

rem:  Madame Eléanore did not like you when she first came. Why was that?

MERCEDES:  I’ve wondered that so many times, Madame. She wasn’t so… disdainful on her visits before. pauses Before I think she hardly noticed me.

rem:  Her attitude changed though. How did that happen?

MERCEDES:  shrugs Truly, I can’t imagine what she was thinking. Her doggie, Nanette, got loose and was running toward the paddock and river.

rem:  And you rescued her, n’est-ce pas?

MERCEDES:  I grabbed her as she was running past me. Truly, it was coincidence.

rem:  But Madame softened toward you after. How was she different?

MERCEDES:  She invited me to tea, and to dinner. With the family.

rem:  Most unusual.

MERCEDES:  Indeed. Then she bought me a dress—and one for Simmie. She came and visited with me while I was a-bed, and talked with of how it is being a lady.

rem:  And how did that make you feel?

MERCEDES:  Oh, Madame—

rem:  Please call me Robin.

MERCEDES:  Très bien… Robin. It made me feel uncomfortable, the things she was saying to me. She was talking to me as a lady not a servant.

rem:  But you’ve been a servant all your life.

MERCEDES:  It’s all I’ve ever known.

rem:  And now?

MERCEDES:  And now, mon cher, I think we must tell no more, or we shall tell the whole story.

rem: Mercedes, I do believe you’re right. Madame, I thank you for chatting with me today on my blog today.

MERCEDES:  It has been mon plaisir to chat on your… blog. I thank you, mon cher Robin for inviting to me. And for all you do for me. winks

 

 

            “I’m no lady, Tante. A piece of paper does not make it so.”

            “Non, the paper, non. But notre Dieu, He does. He sees you as a lady, indeed as royalty. Did not He make the way for you to belong to Him? If notre Dieu believes you are royalty, who can say otherwise?”

 

 

 

http://robinemason.com

https://robinsnest212.wordpress.com/

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#Blogwords, Chat Thursday, The Long Shadows of Summer, Seasons Series, Character Interview, Mercedes Renaldi

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BLOGWORDS – Wednesday 30 August 2017 – SPECIAL EDITION – THE LONG SHADOWS OF SUMMER RELEASE – EXCERPT

SPECIAL EDITION – THE LONG SHADOWS OF SUMMER RELEASE – EXCERPT

 

Available on Amazon 31 August!

 

My step wasn’t light but the ground was soft and my approach most quiet. Willow nickered gently as Mikal led her along the path.

“What is it, girl?” Willow’s ears perked at my approach. “Ce, what are you doing here?” He turned back toward the stables. “Is something the matter? Are the children—”

I placed my hand on his, raised my eyes to his. “All is well, Mik.” I whispered a kiss along his scruffy jawline.

He cocked his head, brought his hand to where my lips had brushed, so near to his. His eyes shuttered as his hand caressed my cheek and he drew his mouth to mine. His lips hovered for the barest of seconds, then closed in with such tender tension.

I brought my hands to his chest, stroked upward, intertwining my fingers behind his neck.

Mikal deepened his kiss, and the baby kicked.

Mon Dieu.” He relinquished the kiss and caressed our child.

“She likes when you kiss me.” I inched closer, pressed my belly against him. “I like when you kiss me.”

But I moved to Willow’s other side, as Mikal resumed walking. We came to a vein of the river that split off, providing safe drinking—no alligators. Mikal tied Willow to an oak branch and came to me. He took me in his arms.

“I like when I kiss you, too, mon amour.” His hands teased up the length of my bare arms, caressed my shoulders and neck, and tangled in my hair.

I tipped my head back at his touch, and he touched his lips to my shoulders, my neck, my ears.

He moved his hands down my back and my body quivered at his touch. My gaze locked on his, I traced my hands up his arms, cupped his face and drew him to me.

The kiss was explosive, fiery, leaving us at once sated and longing for more. Mikal split the kiss, drew in a ragged breath, and murmured, “Je t’aime.”

He pulled me tight, touched his lips to mine again. Sparks lit the flame, the kiss intensified, heat that had nothing to do with August humidity cloaked us.

Je t’aime,” he repeated, pulled away but didn’t release my hands. “Je t’aime.”

Mikal put space between us, stepped to the water, splashed his face with his free hand. Then splashed me. I couldn’t even feign irritation, the cool felt quite refreshing.

“What was that about?” He found his breath, and it seemed, his senses.

“Can a wife not tell her husband she loves him?”

“You told me well, Wife.”

 

The southern town of Saisons lies at the crossroads between North and South, progressive and genteel antebellum life. Between East and West, between history and heritage, and new frontiers. Downton Abbey meets Gone With the Wind.

 

It’s 1912, in a world where slavery is dying and women’s rights are rising, and four young women who once shared a bond—and experienced a tragedy—question their own truths.

 

Mercedes has always been an avid reader and devours each new Sherlock Holmes mystery as soon as she gets her hands on them. When one of her friends comes to her, Mercedes vows to keep Simone’s secrets and uncover the truth.

 

But as Mercedes plays detective to her friends’ questions, she discovers something far more shocking—she herself is not who she thought she was.

 

 

#Blogwords, Special Edition, The Long Shadows of Summer, Excerpt, Mercedes’ Dream, Release Feature, Seasons Book 1

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BLOGWORDS – Tuesday 29 August 2017 – TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – NEW RELEASE EVENT – MANY SPARROWS by LORI BENTON

TUESDAY REVIEWS-DAY – RELEASE DAY EVENT – MANY SPARROWS by LORI BENTON

 

                                                                         

Either she and her children would emerge from that wilderness together, or none of them would…

In 1774, the Ohio-Kentucky frontier pulses with rising tension and brutal conflicts as Colonists push westward and encroach upon Native American territories. The young Inglesby family is making the perilous journey west when an accident sends Philip back to Redstone Fort for help, forcing him to leave his pregnant wife Clare and their four-year old son Jacob on a remote mountain trail.
When Philip does not return and Jacob disappears from the wagon under the cover of darkness, Clare awakens the next morning to find herself utterly alone, in labor and wondering how she can to recover her son…especially when her second child is moments away from being born.

Clare will face the greatest fight of her life, as she struggles to reclaim her son from the Shawnee Indians now holding him captive. But with the battle lines sharply drawn, Jacob’s life might not be the only one at stake. When frontiersman Jeremiah Ring comes to her aid, can the stranger convince Clare that recovering her son will require the very thing her anguished heart is unwilling to do—be still, wait and let God fight this battle for them?

 

She was awake, gazing at the babe beside her, wrapped in a blanket he’d fetched from the wagon. The blanket, tiny and blue, had stirred his heart with pity. She’d prepared it for this day, planning for the child’s advent. A busted wagon, a vanished son, a brush shelter in the wilderness, a stranger to midwife—none of that would have figured into those plans.

She’d yet to learn the worst of it.

The baby’s tiny features were knotted, scrunched and red. The small head was capped in hair surprisingly dark for a fair mother and, best he could tell by what remained of the man’s scalp, an even fairer father.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he cleared his throat.

“Reckon we ought to introduce ourselves, Missus. The name’s Jeremiah Ring, lately out of Fort Pitt.”

The woman looked him over with those clear green eyes, an assessing gaze. He wondered what she made of him. He’d never gone wholly native as some men did, living long stretches among the Shawnees, but squatting there in breechclout, leggings, and quilled moccasins, he didn’t much resemble the Virginia farmer he used to be.

The woman dropped her gaze. Tired bruises ringed her eyes.

“Clare Inglesby,” she said, then frowned. “Mrs. Philip Inglesby, I mean.”

He’d noted her momentary confusion, the coloring of her cheeks. He felt it too, the disconcerting intimacy that oughtn’t to lie between two people just exchanging names. As if shy of him seeing her bare skin now, she tucked her feet beneath the dirty hem of her shift.

Again he cleared his throat. “What were you doing when I found you, Missus? You weren’t trying to follow those ones who took your boy, were you?”

“That’s precisely what I was doing.” Mrs. Inglesby pushed herself up to sitting, hair falling in golden ropes to her lap.

Now he had space to really look at her, Jeremiah noted she’d a comeliness undiminished by months of child-carrying or the ordeal just past. She’d eyes wide-spaced, a nose not small but nicely sculpted, a sharp jaw ending in a delicately pointed chin.

“What else was I to do?”

He’d no answer to that. None she’d want to hear.

~ from Chapter 6, Many Sparrows Copyright Lori Benton

 

rem:   If you could live anywhere in any time period, where would you go?

LORI:   I wouldn’t want to live anywhere or any time than where I do, but I certainly wouldn’t mind visiting a few times and places, just to see. The time period I write about of course, in the American Colonies and early United States. Also several Biblical eras and places. Iron Age Britain (Celtic Wales and/or Scotland) would be a place I’d visit, but only briefly!

 

rem:   Ooohhh, I may need to come with you! Where did you find this story idea?

LORI:   I found it researching the back story of two characters in my previous novel, The Pursuit of Tamsen Littlejohn. I came across Dunmore’s War, which is the historical conflict the story in Many Sparrows is woven around. It’s a blip on the historical radar right before the Revolutionary War begins, but it was a significant frontier conflict for many reasons, especially for the Shawnees. It’s worth noting that readers will get to see much of that back story that is mentioned in TPoTL played out in Many Sparrows.

 

rem:   I’m sad to say I have not read that yet… BUT that cover and title are what first brought you to my attention! Who was the easiest character to write and why? The most difficult?

LORI:   Both were secondary characters. The easiest was Clare’s uncle, Alphus Litchfield. His voice was strong, his rhythm of speech so vivid, his personality so vivid to me, I could practically hear him talking to me from the very first scene of his I wrote. There aren’t many scenes from his point of view in the novel, but if there was anything like an effortless flow in the writing of Many Sparrows, it was those scenes.

 

The most difficult to write was Rain Crow, Jeremiah’s Shawnee sister. I had an inexplicable reluctance to delve deeply into her soul to discover why she so badly wanted to keep Clare’s son Jacob. But once I pushed past it, she quickly became so much more than the villain of the story. I ended up caring about her deeply.

 

rem:   I’ve had bad characters turn on me like that, too, and I end up liking them! (ps, I love Rain Crow!) What do you munch on while you’re writing / researching / editing?

LORI:   Most of the time nothing. That’s a habit I’ve tried to avoid. Now and then I’ll have some roasted almonds but I try hard not to snack between meals since writing is such a sedentary occupation.

 

rem:   OH! Such—discipline… What do you do to recover once you’ve typed “THE END?”

LORI:   Since it takes me pretty much every spare moment I have to write a novel (I’m very slow), there isn’t much time for recovering at the end before I have to leap into the next one. Though it’s very nice if a vacation can fall at that time for both my husband and me. That can’t always happens, so I’ve learned to pace myself and sprinkle in a lot of small recharging times through the 12-18 month process of writing a book. A day here, a long weekend there, one or two full weeks in the year. Those times include travel, hiking, photography, and getting out of my head and out of the house and into the Oregon wilds.

 

 rem:   Lori, thank you so much for visiting at my nest today! Congratulations on your newest book baby!

 

Lori Benton was born and raised east of the Appalachian Mountains, surrounded by early American and family history going back to the 1600s. Her novels transport readers to the 18th century, where she brings to life the Colonial and early Federal periods of American history, creating a melting pot of characters drawn from both sides of a turbulent and shifting frontier, brought together in the bonds of God’s transforming grace.

Lori’s debut novel, Burning Sky, earned the 2014 Christy Award for First Novel, Historical, and Book of the Year.

 

http://loribenton.blogspot.com/
https://www.amazon.com/Lori-Benton/e/B00BBP9FR2/ref=la_B00BBP9FR2_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1500857707&sr=1-1

 

  • You opened your heart wide for life’s arrows to pierce it, and there were always arrows coming. Yet the heart, willful thing, could still long to bear itself to attack, to take that terrible risk for chance of such exquisite reward.
  • Either she and her children would emerge from that wilderness together, or none of them would.
  • A person could vanish on the Virginia frontier without much fuss and bother.
  • “And yes. Yes, Clare. He will give us all the good things, and all that He does give is good. If it doesn’t seem so in this life, yet it will prove to be in heaven, where neither you nor I—or my sister—will turn to the Almighty in accusation and say, ‘I wish You’d given me whatever it was I begged You for, or didn’t give me that hard thing I didn’t want. I wish You’d ordered my life otherwise.’… Instead we’ll call His judgments right and true. Every single one.”
  • “Don’t go judging the Almighty by (our) own understanding. We’re rarely given eyes to see the whole of what He’s doing in our lives . . . . . That’s why we are called to walk by faith, not by sight.”

 

A husband whose adventurous spirit cost him his life, and nearly cost hers as well. A child missing, and one birthed on the trail.

 

Clare Inglesby is made of stuff her husband couldn’t fathom—tenacity, courage. A mother’s heart.

 

But Clare is not prepared for the battle she must engage—a battle against time, and against her heart. Her mother’s instinct demands she rush in and take her son by force. But that is not the way of it, and she must bide her time, force patience she does not feel or own.

 

When Jeremiah Ring comes to her aid on the trail, he pledges to help her find her son. Well familiar with the anguish that ravages Clare’s heart, Jeremiah has come to a life of peace. A life with the Shawnee Indians who have Clare’s son. And the one thing Clare must do—“be still, wait and let God fight this battle”—will be the most difficult and telling mission of her life.

 

 

Ms. Benton has exceeded her already exceptional story weaving skills. A deep and poignant and tenuous situation, characters torn between sides, a mother’s heart wrenched beyond reason. The characters are alive and vibrant, their emotions real and raw. I identified with Clare as she fought for nothing but the return of her child. I felt the pull on Jeremiah’s heart between two women and two worlds. I sensed the tension of war, hovering over every scene and conversation. Ms. Benton has created a story with depth and vitality, a story of deep need and urgent hope.

 

 

I received a free copy of this book, but was under no obligation to read the book or to post a review. I offer my review of my own free will. The opinions expressed in my review are my honest thoughts and reaction to this book.

 

 

 

#Blogwords, Tuesday Reviews-Day, #TRD, New Release Feature, Many Sparrows, Lori Benton

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BLOGWORDS – 28 August 2017 – NEW WEEK NEW FACE – THE LONG SHADOWS OF SUMMER RELEASE FEATURE – EDWARDIAN LIFE

NEW WEEK NEW FACE – EDWARDIAN LIFE

“I’ve always had voices—er, stories in my head. I once said I should write them all down so someone could write them someday. I had no idea at the time that someone was me!”

 

 

“Break the rules. That’s my number one rule. I know the rules [of grammar] and I know how to break them.”

 

Seasons is a merge of cultures—Edwardian Era, La Belle Époque, and the remnants of plantation masters and slaves. Saisons House runs as any aristocratic household, but the Dubois family are kind and benevolent masters and have been through generations.

 

There were those of nobility that were blissfully ignorant to harsh conditions of the very ones who served them. The long hours—rising before dawn, and in service sometimes til midnight or later, at their masters’ beck and call. Masters depended on servants to do virtually everything pertaining to running the house—or tending the children and assisting the master and lady get dressed.

 

Equality, however, was unheard of, and for all their generosity, the Dubois family were still nobility, and maintained expectations. The social calendar was demanding, and unrelenting. My town of Saisons is not large, but the social climate thrives, drawing from nearby Charleston and Savannah. Being a family and town of French heritage, they take their cues from Paris as well as London and the surrounding Southern plantation culture.

 

Life was rigid and strict for servants. But for all their wealth, there was a continual string of events the aristocracy was expected to attend—sporting events and house parties, concerts and balls and charitable benefits, besides interviews and fittings for new gowns and suits. And each social appointment demands a new ensemble. And while seeming frivolous and easy, the demands did not relent until well past midnight, to begin again with the sunrise.

 

The lady of the house dressed for breakfast and changed for her morning outing or errands. She changed again for luncheon, and yet again for dinner and evening activities. And each change required the assistance of her ladies maid. That was a minimum of four outfits in one day.

 

For all our 21st century disdain for the mentality of the aristocracy, they were rather imprisoned as well. A woman born to privilege would never have thought to go belowstairs or enter the kitchen, let alone perform menial tasks. To eschew her station and wealth would thrust her into poverty, and with no skills.

 

The formality of society didn’t allow spontaneity, or impulsive or impromptu activity. No day at the park with the kids. No last minute leisurely Sunday ride through the country. That was the nanny’s job.

 

All was not paradise on either “side.” Neither side was golden. There were difficulties on both sides. The grass is always greener and all… How many stories have been written about a character giving up all he or she had to live life differently? How many stories are out there of forbidden love between classes?

 

It occurs to me, as I cull through my notes, that perhaps life works better when we work together. When no one class is entitled to the services of another. When no one class is “less than” because of birth or monetary status, i.e. poverty. When those who have reach out a hand to those who don’t.  Helping each other. Teamwork. Collaboration. Drawing on each others strengths. Not demanding what isn’t ours, but sharing what is. It would turn the orderly Edwardian world on its collective head.

 

I have been writing since 1995, and began working in earnest on my debut novel, Tessa in 2013.  Meanwhile, I cranked out a few dozen poems, made countless notes for story ideas, and earned my BFA in Interior Design.  I lived with depression for many years, and the inherent feelings of worthlessness and invisibility; I didn’t want to be who I was and struggled with my own identity for many years.  My characters face many of these same demons.

 

I write stories of identity conflict. My characters encounter situations that force the question, “Who am I really?” For all who have ever wondered who you are or why you’re here, my stories will touch you in a very real—maybe too real—and a very deep way. I know, I write from experience.

 

I have three novels published, the unsavory heritage series. Tessa, Clara Bess, and Cissy are available on Amazon, both for Kindle and in print. I also have several poems included in an anthology, Where Dreams and Visions Live (Anthologies of the Heart Book 1) by Mary Blowers, as well as a short story, Sarafina’s Light, also in an anthology, Blood Moon, compiled by Mary Blowers. I am currently working on The Tilting Leaves of Autumn, Book Two in my new series, Seasons. It releases in November, following The Long Shadows of Summer, which releases in August. Books 3 and 4 in the series will be out in 2018.

 

http://robinemason.com

https://robinsnest212.wordpress.com/

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7808042.Robin_E_Mason

 

 “There is freedom waiting for you, On the breezes of the sky, And you ask “What if I fall?” Oh but my darling, What if you fly?” – Erin Hanson

 

 

#Blogwords, The Long Shadows of Summer Release Feature, Seasons Book 1, New Week New Fact, #NWNF, Edwardian Life, La Belle Époque

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BLOGWORDS – Sunday 27 August 2017 – FRONT PORCH FELLOWSHIP – AMAZING GRACE

FRONT PORCH FELLOWSHIP – AMAZING GRACE

 

I received a Christmas card several years ago that had a watercolor type manger on the front, and the script inside said, “He became what we are so we can become what He is.”

 

What a contrast to the school of thought that “I’m just a lowly sinner.” That, of course, is not the complete phrase. It also says, “… saved by grace.” But I’ve seen so many stuck in the lowly sinner mindset. Worthless and unworthy. And unloveable.

 

But that’s not what the Gospel says. The Gospel says we are loved. In a nutshell, that’s the very essence of the Gospel message.

 

Father God created us for fellowship, and He has never let go of that desire. I’ve said it before, Genesis 1:1 all the way through Revelation 22:21 is Him making the way for fellowship with us. And part of that is restoring us to His image—as He created us in the beginning.”

Did you notice the last twelve words of that passage? “… you shall be perfect…” That’s a vast difference from a poor lowly sinner.

My signature Scripture. “… that we may prove that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.” Which means we can. Which means we are not poor or lowly, nor are we left in worldliness.

We are, however, still human. We will struggle with issues of this life as long as we are in this earthly body.

We are indeed saved by grace but we do have a part to play. It is our responsibility to take those thoughts captive, to put them down. To conquer them.

I used to think this meant I had to do all the things. It does not. It means I can do all things Father asks of me. He always makes a way.

The enemy doesn’t want us to know the Word. He doesn’t want us to know what Father says about us. And he especially doesn’t want us to know the power of the Word to defeat and destroy him.

 

The Word of God is our weapon, He is our source. Which brings me back to grace. I’m not a lowly sinner, I am a mighty warrior. I am a conqueror. I am who God made me to be. I am loved, I am worthy, I am righteous. And that’s amazing.

 

 

 

 

#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, Amazing Grace, Matthew 5:43-48, Romans 12:1-2, Romans 7:19, II Corinthians 10:5, Philippians 4:13, Ephesians 6:17, Hebrews 4:12

 

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BLOGWORDS – Friday 25 August 2017 – FIRST LINE FRIDAY – THE LONG SHADOWS OF SUMMER by ROBIN E. MASON

FIRST LINE FRIDAY – THE LONG SHADOWS OF SUMMER by ROBIN E. MASON

 

 

Reading is My SuperPower

Molly’s Cafinated Reads  |   Singing Librarian   |   Bookworm Mama

Faithfully Bookish   |   Radiant Light   |   Encouraging Words from the Tea Queen

All the Book Blog Names Are Taken   |   Fiction Aficionado   |   Bibliophile Reviews

Kathleen Denly   |   Lauraine’s Notes   |   Joy of Reading

A Baker’s Perspective   |   With a Joyful Noise   |   Romances of the Cross

Moments Dipped in Ink   |   C Jane Read

Reviews by Van Daniker   |  Iola Goulton

Christian Fiction Girl

 

 

 If you’d like to join us on your blog for First Line Fridays, shoot an email to:

Carrie @ Reading is My Superpower and/or Rachel @ BookwormMama and/or Beth @ FaithfullyBookish and/or Sydney @SingingLibrarianBooks

 

 

 

 

THE BLURB:  

The southern town of Saisons lies at the crossroads between North and South, progressive and genteel antebellum life. Between East and West, between history and heritage, and new frontiers. Downton Abbey meets Gone With the Wind.

 

It’s 1912, in a world where slavery is dying and women’s rights are rising, and four young women who once shared a bond—and experienced a tragedy—question their own truths.

 

Mercedes has always been an avid reader and devours each new Sherlock Holmes mystery as soon as she gets her hands on them. When one of her friends comes to her, Mercedes vows to keep Simone’s secrets and uncover the truth.

 

But as Mercedes plays detective to her friends’ questions, she discovers something far more shocking—she herself is not who she thought she was.

 

THE FIRST LINE:

She looked so familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her. Sitting on the bench like she was outside Hooper’s Market. Her hat was at a rakish angle, her cocoa colored hair perfectly coiffed. Seemed there were tears in her green eyes. I was certain I had never seen her before. But she reminded me of someone…

 

MY THOUGHTS:  

First time writing in first person—and I must say, I like it!!! As usual, this story and its characters have taken on a life of their own—and it’s been a roller coaster ride! As she tells her story, Mercedes’ voice resonates like she’s talking to a friend. (I hope) the reader is drawn to love her as they become familiar with her struggles.

 

 

GENRE:

Women’s Fiction, Historical Fiction

 

RELEASES:

Thursday 31 August.

 

 

#Blogwords, First Line Friday, #FLF, The Long Shadows of Summer, Robin E. Mason, Seasons Series, Book 1

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BLOGWORDS – Thursday 24 August 2017 – CHARACTER INTERVIEW – TANTE ELÉANORE-FRANCOIS BOUVIER

CHARACTER INTERVIEW – TANTE ELÉANORE-FRANCOIS BOUVIER

            “Eléanore paraded around the house, through every room, giving the white glove test to every surface. She turned to me every three minutes and announced that this mantel or that étagère needed to be dusted and polished. No matter that Dovie dusted and polished every wood surface every Tuesday afternoon. I added each soiled item to my growing list of grievances.”

 

            “What are you doing to mes chiens?” Madame Eléanore was near hysteria, her own gravelly voice a keening pitch to match that of her dreadful dogs.

            I forced my own body from my bed and came to Mikal’s side.

            Madame had lifted her canine poofs and clutched them to her side. “You’ll answer to Monsieur for this.”

 

rem:  Bonjour, Madame, bienvenue. It’s lovely to chat with you today.

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Bonjour, it is my honor to chat with you.

rem:  You don’t live at Saisons, correct?

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Non, I am from Nimes.

rem:  You visit Saisons often though, don’t you?

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Oh oui. I am here whenever I can make the journey.

rem:  You had plans to travel earlier in the year. What made you delay your trip?

MADAME ELÉANORE:  I received the news of that tragic accident of the Titanic. My sister sent me word that she feared for me if I traveled again. I wrote her back and reminded her all the times I have sailed from France to America, and from America to France, and no harm has ever  come to me.

rem:  You have four sisters, n’es-ce pas?

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Oui. I am the eldest.

rem:  You were all born in Saisons, correct?

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Oh, non, Madame. Our home is in Nimes. We visited here many times as young girls. Only Antoinette and Marguerite found the love here and married.

rem:  When you arrived, you seemed… brusque and surly, condescending even.

MADAME ELÉANORE:  I am accustomed to things the way I like, oui. Mon cherie niece, Vivienne, she is more modern. She does not hold to the high standards, the established traditions.

rem:  But Saisons Plantation is very successful.

MADAME ELÉANORE:  purses mouth, nods Yes, well…

rem:  You were particularly hostile towards Mercedes. Why was that?

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Madame, I was not hostile. I am a lady, I am gracious to all.

rem:  But Mercedes…

MADAME ELÉANORE:  She was presumptuous and familiar, forgetting her place.

rem:  raises eyebrows

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Très bien. She was… she bore herself not as a servant. She carried herself as… as regal. She was a servant, and her behavior was not fitting for her station.

rem:  I think perhaps you mean confidence.

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Yes, well…

rem:  What changed your… feelings toward her.

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Mon chiens, my doggies. She rescued mon cher Nanette. She was… She knew how I thought of her, and yet she did not let mon cher escape. What I thought was presumption, I see now as character and integrity.

rem:  You formed quite a lovely friendship after that, n’es-ce pas?

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Oh, oui. She is a delight to me. And her little one, Nellie—how you say, I could eat her up! She is mon coeur, my heart.

rem:  I suppose we won’t tell our readers today your hand in Mercedes’ new station.

MADAME ELÉANORE:  smirks Non, Madame, we must leave that to read in the book you have made.

rem:  Madame—

MADAME ELÉANORE:  Non. You must call me Tante.

rem:  Tante, I thank you for visiting my blog today.

MADAME ELÉANORE:  It has been mon plaisir to be at your… blog. I thank you, mon cher Robin for inviting to me.

 

 

http://robinemason.com

https://robinsnest212.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Robin-E-Mason-Author-Artist/224223274404877
http://www.amazon.com/Robin-E.-Mason/e/B00MR5IQ9S
https://twitter.com/amythyst212
http://www.pinterest.com/amythyst212/

https://www.instagram.com/robinemason212/

https://plus.google.com/u/0/108929134414473292325

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7808042.Robin_E_Mason

 

            “I’m no lady, Tante. A piece of paper does not make it so.”

            “Non, the paper, non. But notre Dieu, He does. He sees you as a lady, indeed as royalty. Did not He make the way for you to belong to Him? If notre Dieu believes you are royalty, who can say otherwise?”

 

 

#Blogwords, Chat Thursday, The Long Shadows of Summer, Seasons Series, Character Interview, Tante Eléanore-Franois Bouvier

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