Academy Award? To me it is!!

I had Opal Campbell, video ‘fixer’, change around my book video from the earlier release of Sinners’ Opera.  It’s getting good reviews, and I’ve always thought it beautiful.  Originally, author Noelle Adams created the  video.  Opal added text to one slide and completely changed the slide with the cover and the places it is available (the ones with the last piano video with text over).

Take a little look-see and let me know what you think.

A little aside from the book:

The South Carolina state motto is ‘Dum Spiro Spero’ which means while I breath I hope. Morgan sees this motto on a highway patrol car chasing him and thinks it is singularly appropriate to his situation.

Have a superb weekend!
Linda

Everyday is a Wilde day:

“There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.”
– Oscar Wilde

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In Case You Are New to this Blog.

I will have a book signing this Saturday. I wrote this for The Southern Pen Bookshop in Monroe, Georgia.

Mary Marvella is a Georgia girl through and through!  She writes romances that range from sweet to steamy and suspenseful, as well as women’s fiction. She’s a writer, an editor, and a teacher/tutor/writing coach.

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Marvella who loved to make up stories. We aren’t talking about lies or fibs, but stories with characters who lived in her imagination. This child lived in a time long ago when few families had a television set. The screens were small and black and white, about the size of a tablet, actually. Mary’s family didn’t have a TV set, so reading and radio were their entertainment. Her family did enjoy an occasional movie at a drive-in movie or picture show. Mary loved playing in the playhouse her daddy built using wooden containers large enough to transport tanks during World War ll. Mary’s stories became more complicated as she aged. Writing them wasn’t something she considered, it was all about telling them. Her stories sometimes frightened her.

After Mary became a teacher she used her imagination to entertain students and then her own daughter. As each book she read to and then with her daughter ended she made “what happened next” stories. Only after she stopped teaching in the classroom did she decide to write stories to sell. Finally, the romance bug bit her. Characters wandered at will in her imagination, waking her from sleep and telling their stories to her as she washed dishes and as she ran errands.

Mary and typewriters never became friends, so she had challenges writing even a short story that wasn’t riddled with typos. Her ex got a computer for their photography studio. This miracle invention, a Macintosh with 2 gigs of ram and a screen maybe 5 X 5, opened a world where Mary’s stories could live and become real!  Computer folks are probably laughing at this! She used a dot matrix printer, a REALLY old one!

Now Mary has 10 novels on Amazon and has been hooked on writing since she used that first Mac!

Mary fell into writing Romance novels because she found Georgia Romance Writers and Southeastern Writers Association and Nancy Knight a teacher.

Protective Instincts, Mary’s first novel, is part of the Protective Series. She has two books published as M. M. Mayfield, Write Dirty to Me and Her Deception.

Contact the author:

https://goodreads.com/author/show/4909455.Mary_Marvella

https://www.facebook.com/ARomanceCaper

http://www.MaryMarvella.com

https://www.facebook.com/mmbarfield

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mary-Marvella- Author/121044561311561

https://pinkfuzzyslippersauthors.wordpress.com/

Follow Mary Marvella on Twitter @mmarvellab

http://amzn.to/22t6vOC

MaryMarella on In

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Get ready for Christmas in July sales!

It’s Christmas in July! Be sure to check out these great holiday romances, including mine:

Sweet Peppermint Kisses. https://books.bookfunnel.com/christmasinjuly/gmx3ss2rma

Only $.99 for a limited time. Aloha To Love
Snag your copy today!

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Christmas in July Kindle Countdown Sale. Only $.99!

It’s a Christmas in July Kindle Countdown Sale and Candleglow and Mistletoe is only $.99! 💝 Save $7.00 off the print price.

Their unexpected attraction kindles something as warm and sweet as a holiday candle. But the weight of their pasts could turn the promise of love to ashes.🎄

Don’t miss out on this sweet contemporary holiday romance favorite. Last day for the sale!

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The Smuggler’s Escape — really short excerpt

Happy Canada Day! Happy Fourth of July!

So to make up for the long excerpt last week (thanks for the comments, peeps – much appreciated!), here is a super short one:

“Open it, my love,” Richard said. “If you don’t like it, the jeweler will allow us to exchange it for something else.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Noelle opened the little box. Nestled inside was a delicate necklace of diamonds and sapphires. “It’s beautiful.” She didn’t touch it. She returned it to his hand.

“Take it, sweetheart. It will suit you admirably and as befits my wife.”

She sighed. “As I have told you over and over, I will not marry you.”

He tried to drum up his usual lighthearted retort, but fortunately she forestalled him.

“I will accept your gift under one condition,” she said.

He managed a smile. “A condition. How delightful! Do tell me.”

Noelle, his darling, the love of his life, said, “Will you take me as your mistress instead?”

Amazon US
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Amazon Australia

thesmugglersescape900

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A Pleased Teacher/Tutor

I have been a teacher since I was five. Well, not a real teacher, except when I helped my daddy pass the GED when I finished fifth grade. Later when I was in high school I helped Daddy teach a night class in math.

After teaching in the classroom for fifteen years I began my tutoring career and have loved that I can work with a student one-on-one. I ‘d like to share this most recent thank you and proof that I am a DAMNED GOOD teacher.

This girl and I have been working together for four years. She was home-schooled and her dad moved around for his positions in hospitals. I have followed her and her brother by using Skype. They have a home in Canada and return there between jobs and so Doctor Dad can work Emergency on weekends. Dad-the-doctor expects this girl to be a doctor. We shall see; however, I have nurtured an official literature geek. She just finished her Senior year four days ago.

This email makes me grin and feel like the best teacher ever.

Hi Mary,
I finished marking the book. I think it’s safe to say you were right when you said there is a lot more to come in the second half of the book.
Time to reread and make notes now. 😀.

My work is done!

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Sinner’s Opera – The Rebirth

Several months ago, I was given a contract for my previously published novel, Sinners’ Opera, the book of my heart.  The Wild Rose Press will soon issue this reprint.  Yesterday, I received my final galley, which–for those of you who don’t know–is the final step before a release date.  I’ve been working on proofing this document, and thought I’d post a little of the book here of PFS. I’ll just give a snippet of where I am now, about halfway through (it’s a long book! So, here it is:

Setting:  Morgan and Isabeau are in his study, the first time she’s seen him since childhood, and he has remained the exactly the same.

Tears glittered in his luminescent eyes. “I am your Gabriel,” Morgan said. (In Isabeau’s POV)

In Morgan’s POV:

“Isabeau, my love.”  I rested my forehead against hers, swallowed hard to master tears.  “I’m sorry for any hurt I’ve caused you.”

She cradled my face between soft hands, pulled me down and kissed me.  “Gabriel.”

“Morgan Gabriel, actually,” I said, smiling.

We gazed into each other’s eyes, the moment suspended, a space out of time.  My solar plexus throbbed, and love consumed me.  Isabeau rubbed the apex of her ribs.  The solar plexus was the seat of the soul, and I dared anyone to question whether I had lost my soul.  In the centuries since my birth, I had never felt this way about anyone or anything.  Rather than hating me, she loved me.  My dreams had come true.  She was transfixed, her face expressing my emotions.

I think I whispered her name, but perhaps I said nothing.

“How?” she breathed.

We trembled on the threshold of a new beginning.  I was loath to say, “As you already know, I’m not human.  I’ll explain everything.  But not tonight, please.  Give me one night before you whip out your scalpel and dissect me.”

She pressed a finger to my lips.  “I’m not a child anymore.”

A reviewer says of Sinners’ Opera:

5.0 out of 5 stars Brilliantly written, Sinner’s Opera provides much of the same

September 25, 2016

Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase

I’ve just finished reading Sinner’s Opera by Linda Nightingale. It’s haunting, very intense. It left me feeling very similar to how I felt after watching Interview with a Vampire. I remember at the end I sat back and thought, “Wow, I’m not sure what I’m feeling.” It was just so intense, so unabashed. Brilliantly written, Sinner’s Opera provides much of the same. The scenes become quite clear in your head—dark, surreal, heavy with a Gothic feel. It’s what you want in a Vampire tale, but be prepared to have it delivered.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The aboves isn’t perhaps the most exciting or emotional scene, but I’m here today and will finish sometime this weekend.

Speaking of weekend, have a good one and be safe for the upcoming holiday!

Linda

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The Smuggler’s Escape – Excerpt!

As I promised last week, here is an excerpt from The Smuggler’s Escape, which is on pre-order now and comes out July 24th.

thesmugglersescape900

Setup: Noelle needs Richard’s help, but she doesn’t want him interfering in the smuggling business. She refuses to marry him, and she can’t afford to let him seduce her, either. Richard has other ideas…

Noelle slid off Snowflake’s back, passed her to a surprised groom, and hastened toward the house. The wind ceased its fitful snatching at her bonnet and tore it off good and proper, dancing with it in the sunlight, tossing it around the side of Boltwood Manor.

Noelle picked up her skirts and ran after the hat. The wind teased it away from her grasping fingers and threw it this way and that across the lawn. Noelle followed, cursing, while the wind tugged her hair out of its pins and flapped it into her face. The bonnet flew through the herb garden, lit briefly on the outstretched hand of a stone nymph, and fluttered toward the terrace.

Richard Boltwood stepped through the French doors to the terrace, reached out a long arm, and rescued Noelle’s hat from the wind.

Sacré tonnerre, but he was beautiful. Most improperly, he wore only shirt and breeches. His sleeves couldn’t hide those powerful shoulders and arms, nor his breeches the muscles of his thighs. The open neck of his shirt revealed his firm throat and a few hairs of the masculine chest she had seen and touched only once.

His face was bright with laughter, his bearing confident. Masterful. Irresistible. In spite of herself, Noelle quivered inside.

No. This was no time for quivering. She hurried forward. “Richard, I must speak with you.”

“With pleasure,” Richard said. “Your bonnet, ma’am.” He held it out but made no attempt to touch her.

Noelle closed her fingers around the ribbons, and immediately Richard put his hands behind his back. She moved closer, and he inched away. “In private!” she whispered. She put her hands on her hips and scowled at him. The hat strained away from her hand, and her hair flapped in her face. “Stay here! It’s urgent. I need your help immediately.”

“Ah,” Richard said, “I am of course at your service, my love, but do consider. Your only legitimate excuse for such a precipitate arrival must be desperate love for me, but if there is to be no touching, it won’t look like love, will it?” He danced away like the bonnet on the wind. “You do look delightfully desperate, my sweet.”

“That was your idea,” Noelle fumed. “I never said I wouldn’t touch you, merely that it would be wiser not.”

“It would have been wiser not to involve yourself in the free trade. As to not touching me, do as you please, as long as you understand that if you touch me, I will consider it a clear invitation to touch you in return.” His lips twitched.

Nom de Dieu.” She must keep her distance, but he was making that impossible. “Oh, very well. You may kiss my hand.”

“Your Majesty is most gracious.” He took her gloved hand in his and tugged at the tip of one finger.

She tried to draw away, but he wouldn’t let go. “What are you doing?”

“Exactly what it looks like. I won’t waste one of my burning kisses on a mere glove.” A few seconds later, the glove was in his breeches pocket. He took her cool hand into his large warm one and brought it within an inch of his lips.

The warmth of his hand, the heat of his breath, traveled all the way to her toes. “Get on with it,” she said, quivering with impatience. Get it over with before it kills me. When he did nothing, she pulled at her hand.

He didn’t let go. “It’s not enough. No woman who gallops to her lover’s door would be content with one little kiss.” He paused. “On her hand.”

Waiting for that kiss was torture, and she had urgent news. She said in French, “Richard, the excisemen are nearby! We don’t have time for playing games.”

“This is no game,” he answered in the same language. “Lives are at stake, and therefore our charade must appear real.”

Charade?

Did that mean he accepted her refusal to marry him? In which case, she should be glad. Or at the very least, relieved.

She didn’t have time for emotions. “Lives are at stake, and therefore we must hurry.”

“But not appear to do so,” he said. “A bargain—both your hands. It’s not dangerous, surely . . . just a little hand kiss or two.”

Before she had a chance to respond, he took the other hand, pried her fingers open, and released the ribbons of her hat.

It fluttered away across the lawn. “My bonnet!”

“What’s a mere bonnet when one is deep in love?” Richard removed the second glove and stowed it in his pocket. He pulled her close and pressed his hot lips to the back of one tingling hand.

Something inside Noelle pulsed in response. Yes.

His lips settled hotly on the other hand.

Oh, yes.

“Enough?” Richard whispered. “We have demonstrated love, but what about passion?”

Noelle couldn’t bring herself to move. Her breathing quickened, and her knees felt abominably weak.

“Only a passionate woman would ride ventre à terre to the man she loves.” He turned her hands over and cupped them in his large ones. “You, my sweet, are the essence of passion.”

He pressed his lips into one palm and then the other. The pulsing inside her deepened to a throb.

She couldn’t help it. She whimpered, staring at his lips and her hand.

His tongue reached out and gently, devastatingly, licked her palm.

Dieu du ciel. His arms surrounded her and his heady aroma overwhelmed her senses. She drank it in through her very pores. I love you. Oh, how I love you. She pressed her face into the hollow at his throat.

No.

She made a small despairing sound, and immediately his arms loosened. He pushed up her chin and deposited a swift kiss on her lips. “You do love me, and you know it.”

“You tricked me, vaurien.” She pushed away, but he tightened the circle of his arms again. “You said you wouldn’t touch me.” Deliberately, she wiped her hand on her skirt.

Something twitched in his cheek, but he said coolly, “I only did what you agreed to, my love, and then you fell into my arms. What clearer invitation could there be?” He lifted a few stray hairs from her cheek. “We need to talk.”

Noelle shook her head and drew away, and this time he let her go. “No. We don’t. Not about that, anyway.”

“And what, pray tell, is ‘that?’” He toyed with her hair.

She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Richard, the excisemen are everywhere. They were at Johnny’s camp this morning, but he’s gone. Is Johnny all right?”

Richard’s fingers stilled. Did he think she cared more for Johnny than for him?

Rightly so, she reminded herself. Johnny was a good, kind man. Richard was a heartless libertine.

She found herself explaining anyway. “They shot him, and Lucretia bandaged him last night.”

“Courageous of her.” Richard’s fingers moved again, pulling out pins, spreading her thick, tangled curls around her shoulders. Her body longed to melt against his. She clenched her fists and sucked in a breath of chilly air to counteract the effect of his touch.

She said briskly, “Yes, isn’t it? But she said he’d been bleeding dreadfully, and this morning Uncle Matthew told us your grooms removed his wagon.”

Richard let her go and handed her a fistful of hairpins. “So that the excisemen wouldn’t destroy it. They’re no doubt stinging at being duped by a tinker and his dog last night. My carpenter will repair the wagon, and in the meantime, Johnny has been patched up and is asleep in the chamber next to mine.”

Noelle lowered her voice as they moved toward the house. “There’s an exciseman watching Sir William Luttrow’s stables. I saw him in the trees by the stream and came to warn you. I don’t think he saw me. Will you order him off your land?”

Richard cocked his head. “I don’t think so. He won’t search without Sir William’s permission. It will be much more fun taking the contraband out from under his nose.”

“Sir William will give permission. He’s dead set against smuggling.”

“We can only hope Sir William is away for the moment. There’s not much in there, if I recall the list correctly—only a few tubs. We’ll move them from his stables this morning.” He plucked Noelle’s hat from a puddle.

“How?” Noelle’s voice rose. “We can’t go carting tubs across the countryside.”

“Hush! I have everything under control.”

“Don’t dismiss my concerns!” She was shouting, curse it. She forced her voice lower, but she couldn’t make it calm. It shook with fury and also, though she hated to admit it, fear. “You may have helped the smugglers as a boy, but you have no experience of the current situation. You’ll land us all in prison with your arrogant, irresponsible, aristocratic ways.”

Amazon US
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Irish Hearts is a new release!

Hurray! Savor the magic of three, sweet contemporary Irish romances in my exclusive new bundle,
Irish Hearts

Irish Heartss is 3 Books in 1 bundle!

Cozy up with your favorite beverage and lose yourself in these joyful romances featuring Irish heroes and heroines.

OH DANNY BOY
A reader favorite! This pot of gold could hold more than they bargained for…

MAEVE
He’s all business. She loves to laugh. When business conflicts with pleasure, what could possibly go wrong?

1-800-IRELAND
A strong minded Irishwoman pursuing her dream. A disillusioned businessman ready to retire. Can two determined people separated by years find true love at the end of a rainbow?

Grab your ebook copy today. Also available in paperback and Large Print edition.

FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

Snag your copy today!

 

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The Majestic Friesian Horse

In The Summoning, first chapter, the hero Eryael shapeshifts into a winged black horse eyrael-linda-nightingale600 (002)to rescue the heroine from the bad guys.  When I described this horse, I had in mind a Friesian stallion.  So, I thought I’d tell you a little about the Friesian, one of my favorite breeds of horse.  I bred, trained and showed the fabulous Andalusian, but I would have loved to own a high-school trained (elevated trot called Passage, and trot in place called Piaffe, plus lateral work, and airs above the ground)  Friesian.  They are truly poetry in motion.

The Friesian breed originates in Friesland in the Netherlands.  These splendid horses conform to people’s idea of a light draft horse, and, in fact, were originally used as fancy carriage horses. However, they are nimble and graceful, currently quite popular in show arenas for their lofty movements and shining ebony coats.  The Friesian ranges from 15 to 17 hands, are powerfully muscled, with thick manes and tails and feathers (long hair) at their fetlocks.  Their necks are high-set and proudly arched. In a word, they are beautiful. If you would like to know more about the Friesian, visit the national association.

By B0rder, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=794708

 Blurb:

Heather Morique is a witch. The problem is she doesn’t know it. Her husband Jahill was a refugee from an obscure branch of the Arawak Indians. After his death, mysterious whispers lure her to his homeland of Jamaica. Soon, she finds herself in a web of secrets, lies and illusions.

Jahill’s people worship Eyrael, the God of Wind and Sea, and his brother Sofiel, the God of Fire and Earth. The new Shaman has pitted brother against brother, and these two powerful spirits from an alternate universe fight to become the tribe’s ruling deity. Will light or darkness reign?

When Heather unwittingly summons Eyrael, these two unlikely soul mates face a dangerous fate.  The chemistry between them is more disturbing than the long-buried secrets.

Excerpt:

The Summoning Top Pick“Do not fear, beautiful witch,” he said over his shoulder. “If I am to meet my dark brother in battle, I shall confront him at my most powerful. The shape the People worship is a black stallion.”

“Do what you must.” Her voice came stronger now. “I understand you’re the only one standing between the Whisperers and me. They wished me to drown. First, they invaded my dreams, then they whispered that the sea would cleanse me of my sins and take away my grief.”

Beautiful girl and horse

“When I advance, run as far and as fast as you can. When it is possible, I shall find you.” His human body shivered like the sea shimmers beneath the sun and melted. In the man’s place, a massive black horse stood, a warrior’s horse—a warrior horse.

Behind him, the woman gasped, then he felt a touch on his rear fetlock. “A Friesian stallion.” Awe overcame the fear in her voice. “Magnificent,” she breathed.

Eyrael, the black stallion, shook his head, ruffling the fall of his thick mane on his crested neck.

The witch peered past him, shrank back, trembling. “They are the Whisperers. They lured me here to kill me. If not now, they will whisper until I am insane.” She covered her ears. “What is that terrible sound?”

He could not speak, dared not turn to look at her. Sofiel was coming and, with him, her death. Eyrael snorted, pawing the sand. The People froze in their march, gaping at their God. His wind screamed, angry waves lashing the shore. Once again, Taino brandished his staff and called the lightning, ominous booms of thunder shaking the ground. Sofiel must have taught the Shaman this feat of fire. Hoping to avoid a battle, Eyrael trotted toward members of the tribe he recognized from other visits, long ago, and now they were old.

The gray-haired brave who’d spoken earlier shouted above the wind, “Welcome, God of Wind and Sea. It has been many years since we met.”

The Shaman pointed his staff at the elderly man. Ragni recoiled a step and fell silent. What was Taino’s power over these people? There were many of them, one of him. Why didn’t they overpower him instead of cringing at his word? Eyrael reared, trumpeting a challenge.

The warp-and-weft of the universes quivered.

The Shaman’s voice rose against the wind, shrieking warnings to Eryael. He threatened to capture the black stallion in a spell and geld him with the sacrificial blade. No one moved. Finally, Ragni, the old brave, turned to Taino. “Our God comes to do battle with yours. Stop, Taino. The God of Wind and Sea was with the tribe on the ancient journey from the Amazon basin to Xaymaca.”

As if the man hadn’t spoken, the witchdoctor cried, “Wayward Knowledge, I command you to my side. Bound-Spirit, answer the prayer of the Faithful. This woman is to be sacrificed for her crimes against your People.”

Eyrael halted, lifting his forefeet off the sand in a half-rear and crouched on his haunches, performing the levade, a battle move belonging to an earlier century.

“Foolish Spirit, she is no witch.” Taino threw back his head and laughed. “Ask the woman her crimes when she is tied on the altar. She will pay for what she has done.”

“I’ve done nothing.” At the top of her lungs, the witch called against the howling wind. She was drenched, wet hair clinging to her face, the rough brown gown hugging her figure. Yet she stood as regal as a queen.

The blonde witch had rallied from shock. When battle joined, she would stand with him. Happiness flooded Eyrael. A memory of sailing the crystal winds with Sofiel flashed through his mind, sadness gripping his heart. In this, the reality of Man, Eyrael would be pitted against his own brother.

Buy link:  https://www.amazon.com/Summoning-Ancient-Gods-Book-ebook/dp/B075ZJWS9J/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1531745897&sr=8-1&keywords=linda+nightingale

 Where to Find Linda:

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/LNightingale

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/LindaNightingaleAuthor

Web Site:  http://www.lindanightingale.com – Visit and look around. There’s a free continuing vampire story.

Blog:  https://lindanightingale.wordpress.com/ – Lots of interesting guests & prizes

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4839311.Linda_Nightingale

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/lbnightingale1/

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Linda-Nightingale/e/B005OSOJ0U

 

Enjoy your Friday and have a glorious weekend!

Linda

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