Red River Radio Presents What’s Write for Me with Uvi and Mark

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What’s Write for Me – Wednesday, September 25 4-6 PM Join us when we welcome two authors of historical fiction. I didn’t plan it that way, it’s a happy accident, which will totally rock!

Uvi Poznansky

Uvi Poznansky is a USA TODAY bestselling, award-winning author, poet and artist. “I paint with my pen,” she says, “and write with my paintbrush.” Her romantic suspense box set, Love Under Fire, made the USA TODAY bestselling list, as did her medical thriller box set, Do No Harm; and her romance box set, A Touch of Passion, was the 2016 WINNER of The Romance Reviews Readers’ Choice Awards.

She worked first as an architect, and later as a software engineer, software team leader, software manager and a software consultant (with an emphasis on user interface for medical instruments devices.) All the while, she wrote and painted constantly, and exhibited in Israel and California. In addition, she taught art appreciation classes. Her versatile body of work includes bronze and ceramic sculptures, oil and watercolor paintings, charcoal, pen and pencil drawings, and mixed media.

Mark Richard Beaulieu

Mark Richard Beaulieu is an expert on one of the most powerful and misunderstood queens of Europe. She lived in the 12th century — Eleanor of Aquitaine. Mark is an accomplished author, collected painter, award-winning photographer, and innovative patent-holding software technologist. He trained as a studio artist and holds an MFA from UC Davis, and a BFA from Trinity University in San Antonio. The Eleanor Code is his six-book historical fiction series on Eleanor’s life. She was the Queen of France, the Queen of England, a leader in the disastrous Second Crusade, and originator of the controversial courts of love. Her progeny occupied every major throne, making her the grandmother of Europe. Mark completes his story of Eleanor of Aquitaine’s life this year with the publication of ‘The Legacy.’ Author of The Eleanor Code Series about Eleanor of Aquitaine.

Be Sure to Join Us for a Great Time!

Alton & Velda Part 38 by Dellani Oakes

alton and velda cover smallerThe companions have married, and head home to Astrid’s home, which is closest.

As they rode, they saw signs of fighting. The woods were burned in places, fields churned up. Homesteads were gutted and damaged, livestock killed, crops destroyed. A day later, they found a battlefield. Standards of her father’s army, and Revanth’s, littered the ground. Mounds of corpses had been piled up and loosely covered with dirt and stones. No one had tried to give them a proper burial.

Disgusted by this treatment, Revanth asked Alton to raise earth and cover the bodies before they were all torn apart by scavengers. Alton didn’t hesitate. He and Velda, who used her air magic, covered the bodies, while Revanth carved markers from stone.

Another day of travel brought them to the outskirts of the castle land. It was obvious that a vast army had passed by recently. Fresh manure and trampled ground, gave evidence to a large force. Soon, they heard the sounds of siege engines slinging stones and battering the walls of the castle. A group of dwarfs, laden in chains, were digging at the base of the wall. An overseer with a wicked looking whip, was in charge. If a dwarf faltered, down it came on the hapless back.

“Who commands your army?” Astrid asked Revanth.

“My father’s brother. I don’t see his standard, but that means little. Often when he travels with the army, he doesn’t fly his standard, for reasons of safety. Nor did my father. If he’s here, his tent will be centered and surrounded.”

“You and I will go look,” Alton announced. “Velda, please take Astrid to the grove of trees, find a stream. Ask the dryads and naiads to protect you. Whatever you do, don’t look for us. Is that clear? Send forest animals, or ask the trees and grasses. Promise.”

“How can I, my husband? My love?”

He took her hands, kissing them. “Because I am your husband, I ask this of you. I want you to stay in safety. Please.”

Reluctantly, she agreed. Arming themselves, Alton and Revanth headed to the battleground.

“You go first,” Alton said. “I’m your squire. Play the Prince to the hilt, and they will not doubt you, though you look like a beggar,” he chuckled.

“And you look so much better, I suppose?”

“Not at all. But I’m not supposed to look as good. Sword on hip, hand on pommel and don’t forget to swagger.”

Revanth swung his buttocks like an ample hipped woman, making his friend laugh. As they approached the outskirts of the battle, a sentry stopped them.

“Who goes there?”

“I am Revanth, son of Queen Melisande. Nephew to Prince Olster and heir to my father’s throne. Is my uncle here?”

The sentry blocked Revanth when he tried to advance. “How do I know you are who you say?”

“Take me to Prince Olster. If I’m not, you have the satisfaction of killing me. If I am, and harm comes to me—I would not wish to be you.” His smile was disturbing.

The sentry motioned to someone else to take his spot. “Come with me.” He led them into the camp at a quick pace.

They passed a medical tent where men lay dying—some screaming, others still. One young man lay with his guts hanging out. He was completely unattended. Flies crawled on his entrails as he whimpered. Alton stopped, holding up a hand to Revanth.

“You can’t heal him, surely?”

Alton shook his head, face solemn. “Can you watch him die by inches?”

“Do it,” Revanth said softly.

Alton went up to the boy. “I’m going to take your pain away.”

“Am I dying?”

“Yes. I can’t stop that, but I can make it not hurt. May I?”

The boy nodded, gritting his teeth. Alton laid a hand on his head, another on the open gut wound. The sparkles that cascaded from his hands were not gold, but a cold, icy blue. The boy relaxed, his breathing slowed, and he died. Closing his eyes, Alton made a sign of blessing over the mangled body. The surgeon thanked him with a silent nod, which was returned.

“Can you heal others?” the surgeon asked as Alton turned away.

“Sometimes.”

“Can you heal any of them?”

Alton glanced at his friend, who nodded, inviting him to enter the tent.

“I’ll try.” He passed from bed to bed, touching and whispering. “Be prepared,” he told the surgeon. “It is not easy, nor is it clean.”

“But if it works, saves lives….”

Alton went out quickly. The pain and grief resonated strong in the tent, hammering at his calm exterior. He followed the sentry in a daze. Revanth helped him with a hand at Alton’s elbow. The royal tent was not as elaborately decorated as Alton had thought it would be. Slightly bigger than the others, it was the same muted rust and green of the others. The standard out front was small and low to the ground. No flags or banners flew, heralding Prince Olster’s presence. Alton thought under the circumstances, that was wise.

“I beg your pardon, Highness. A man claiming to be your nephew, waits without.”

“Show him in,” was the gruff reply. “And if it’s not Revanth, cut his head off.”

“As you wish, your highness.” He gestured to the two friends. “In you go.” His hand on his sword, he stood between them and the exit.

Prince Olster reclined on a bunk padded with cushions and furs. He did not rise when Revanth entered, but his eyes widened.

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

Alton & Velda Part 37 by Dellani Oakes

alton and velda cover smallerAlton confronts Topaz, besting her in battle. After her death, the desert becomes a verdant plain once more.

“Not for two days’ travel,” Alton said. “But we can find a place to camp. We may not have much, but with the magic between us, we’ll fare well enough. And I’ve got my food pouch.”

They walked as far as they could, but the men were in a lot of pain. They stopped by a newly formed pool. All of them disrobed and lowered themselves into the water. It was warm, swirling around their aching, dirty bodies. The women drank their fill from upstream, as the men bathed and swam. Then the women cleaned up, washing their clothing as well as their bodies. The men dunked their dirty clothes, and laid them out to dry on the ground. Walking around naked, they built a fire, setting out a meal.

The women, dressed in damp shifts, joined them. After they ate, Alton fashioned shelters with his magic, making two comfortable huts from earth and grass. He and Velda took one, and soon were happily enjoying one another’s company.

Though he would have liked to be engaged the same way, Revanth had to clear his conscience. He sat by the fire with Astrid, holding her hands.

“What’s troubling you, my love?”

The words spilled out, the entire sordid tale of how he’d bedded three naiads in order to get information to save her.

“I broke my promise to you, Astrid. I lay with not one woman, but three! I accept any punishment you wish to give me, but please, I beg you, forgive me.”

“Was there any other way to get the information?” Astrid asked in a calm, practical tone.

“No, none. We had nothing else to bargain with.”

“Could you have saved us without their help?”

“No….”

Astrid took his hands, pulling him to sit beside her. “Then I forgive you. I love you, and though this doesn’t make me happy, you did it to save us. It was a noble thing to do, even if it was ignoble at the same time,” she teased. “I love you, Revanth. And I forgive you.” She held him close, stroking his thick, raven locks. “There is something you’ve forgotten, my love.”

“What’s that?”

“Where were we when this debacle began?” She smoothed this beard, caressing his lips with her thumb. “You were in my bed….”

“So, I was. And we had made a promise to one another.”

“Yes, we had.”

“Do you wish to collect on that promise, my beautiful Astrid?”

“I do. Although we aren’t married….”

“Does it matter? We will be, just as soon as we can find a priest.”

He carried her into their hut. As he kissed her, he remembered Oonah, and how he had been her first lover. With her, there would be many more. With Astrid, he would be the one and only. That thought excited him more than any other. Softly, gently, he made love to her, bringing them both to climax with a cry of pleasure. Long into the night, the voices of them, and their friends, echoed in the wilderness.

By morning, they had finally fallen asleep. It wasn’t until midday that they all emerged from their huts, hand in hand. A quick meal and they were on their way once more. The traveling didn’t take as long now that the land was green and wooded, instead of desert. They made it back to town in less than a day and a half.

After taking rooms at the inn, they went to find out if there was a priest in town who could marry them. Stopping by Nils’ stable, they asked him. Surprised to see them, he gladly took them to the village church. The priest was happy to perform the wedding of the two couples, and did so forthwith. He married Revanth and Astrid first, with Alton and Velda standing up for them as witnesses. While they were entered into the registry, the other couple waited.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Velda asked for the third time.

“I’m positive.”

“You won’t stray?”

“Not for a second. Though it’s in our nature, we can control ourselves when it’s important. There is nothing and no one more important to me than you. And in time, our children.”

Velda burst into tears. “But that can’t be, Alton. I’ve told you. No one has ever heard of a naiad and sprite having children.”

“Believe it, love. I will father children on you, though they may not be naiads. I promise.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I feel it. Trust me.”

She didn’t commit to that trust, but didn’t argue either. The priest married them next, pronouncing them wed by the laws of god and man. Afterward, they celebrated at the tavern, where most of the town joined them. They stayed up long into the night, drinking and dancing with their new friends—many of whom were Velda’s half brothers. The naiads, disturbed by the noise, came to see what was going on, and joined in the celebration.

They stayed two more days in town, before taking to the road once more. The horses Alton and Revanth had purchased, had returned when he let them go, so Nils gave them back. Riding with the women behind them, they set off for Astrid’s home, which was the closest. It took nearly three weeks of steady travel to get to her home.

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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Alton & Velda Part 36 by Dellani Oakes

alton and velda cover smallerAlton confronts Rialta, killing her. Once she is dead, the castle begins to collapse. Fortunately, her death canceled the magic which held the memories of the women, in check.

The ran down the stairs, losing their balance and running into one another. The were all glad the stair was enclosed on both sides, so no one was in danger of falling to the ground floor.

Revanth struggled to his feet as Astrid ran to him. “My love!” they chorused.

“Let’s get out of here!” Alton yelled as the ceiling on the far side of the room fell.

Once out the door, they found the courtyard empty.

“Where’s Topaz? Who freed her?”

“I didn’t see her leave. I don’t know.”

“I feel her nearby,” Alton said. “She hasn’t left. Come out, you mystic bitch!” he growled. “Let’s have this out, so I don’t have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”

The tiny gnome stepped into the archway, blocking them from the outside. “Sure of yourself, wood sprite.”

Alton cocked his head to one side. “Always. Shall we dance?” He gave her a half bow.

“As you wish.”

“Dance? Are you mad?” Revanth said.

“Take the women and run,” Alton said. “Get as far away as you can. They go free,” he told Topaz. “This is between us.”

She moved from the doorway, allowing the other three to leave, but took her place once more between Alton and freedom.

“That was slick, trapping me in earth. You forget, a gnome is an earthbound creature. My magic freed me.”

“Took long, though. I guess you aren’t as tough as you think.”

She sent a runnel of stone his way. The ripple it caused in the cobbled yard nearly knocked him off his feet, but he righted himself. Chuckling, he retaliated, picking up every pebble in a ten yard radius, he pummeled her with them.

“Bastard!” She summoned water from the dry air.

Alton couldn’t imagine how she’d done it. To him, there wasn’t enough water in the air for even a teardrop. He countered every spell she cast, fighting blow for blow with sand and stone. As the castle rumbled to dust around them, he found bigger pieces to hurl at her. Equally matched, they fought for several minutes. Alton knew he had to do something definitive, something she couldn’t, in order to win.

“When I kill you,” Topaz snarled. “I’ll kill your woman. And your friend, and his woman, too! And if you have any living family, I’ll snap their necks like twigs!”

“I freed you, Topaz. I was willing to help you.”

“Fool! No one helps without a motive, a reason!”

“I do,” he said, relaxing his stance. “Because it’s the right thing.” He reached slowly and casually into his vest for his flint and steel. His other hand crept slowly into the pouch at his belt, searching for the bag of dust.

“No one does that!” she screeched, enraged by his calm demeanor. “It’s a weakness, wood sprite. It will get you and your entire family killed!”

As they fought, Alton had slowly worked his way around until the arch was behind him. Most of the castle had fallen down, miraculously not on top of their heads, but the outer wall held. Once he was in position, Alton took a handful of the dust. Flint and steel in his left hand, the dust in his right, he brought them quickly up. With a snap of his fingers, he lit a spark. The dust ignited. Creating a gust of wind, Alton blew it at Topaz.

The gnome’s clothing and hair caught fire wherever the dust touched her. Writhing with pain, she tried to summon water to put out the flames. Air simply fanned the flames higher. With a scream of rage and suffering, she fell to the ground. Soon, she didn’t make a sound. Alton knew she was dead. He turned to leave, but felt himself in a mighty grip, as if a giant hand held his legs. With a roar, a furious wind buffeted against him, wailing and growling through the open doorway. He was lifted in the air, spun around wildly like a top, and was let down like a downy feather. Puffing loudly, he crouched in the courtyard.

“Alton!”

He heard a voice from a distance.

“Alton?”

Someone knelt beside him. Someone with soft hands and a warm embrace.

“My love? Alton!”

“You smell like flowers,” he whispered, touching her cheek.

“And you smell like something ran you over in a swamp,” Revanth said as he approached. “He’s fine, Velda. Let the man breathe.” He helped his friend stand. “Let’s get out of here before it topples on our heads.”

Walking out of the courtyard, Alton stopped. Instead of a barren desert, as it had been earlier, it was a green and verdant land. A trickle of water ran from the arched door, flowing into the shallow valley.

“What has happened?” Alton asked, gazing at their surroundings.

“It must have been ensorcelled,” Velda replied. “My mother….” she shivered when she remembered Rialtia.

“More likely Topaz,” Revanth replied. “For it turned after she died, not after your mother did.”

“She gave me no choice,” Alton said. “I didn’t want to, Velda.”

“Rialtia was never an easy person to love,” she replied. “Had she not been my mother, I might have ended her myself.”

“How are we going to get home?” Astrid asked.

“First, we’re going to find somewhere to rest for the night,” Velda said, with a glance at the sky. “But not here, if you please. Where is the nearest town?”

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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Alton & Velda Part 35 by Dellani Oakes

alton and velda cover smallerAlton frees Revanth from the dungeon. After helping him upstairs, he decides to go free the other prisoners.

Revanth shrugged, shaking his head. “Why not? Where’s Topaz?”

“In the courtyard, finding earth magic not to her liking.”

Chuckling, Revanth eased his sore body into a more comfortable position. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any healing magic?”

“Not much.” He muttered a few power words and touched Revanth’s shoulder. A cascade of golden sparkles jumped from his hand. “Well, never did that before! It must be the magic here. It’s strong.”

“Go. Help the others. Then we’ll free the girls. For the moment, they should be all right.”

Alton nodded, dashing back down the stairs. Searching the cells, he found a few other prisoners, in much worse shape than Revanth. He gave each a healing touch, leaving their cell doors open. As he headed to the stairs, he saw the stronger helping the weaker.

“Why are you prisoners?” he asked one of the men.

“The blue bitch liked a bevy of men. When we failed to please, we ended up here. Are you here to kill her?”

“Only if she makes it necessary. She’s my lover’s mother.”

“Hope she’s nicer than her dame,” the man replied.

“Much. The female gnome is upstairs in the courtyard. Touch her at your peril.” With that, he scampered back up the steps.

He found Revanth still seated where he’d left him, looking the worse for his ordeal.

“Where are the girls?”

“I’ll show you.” He stood, gasping as he clutched his groin. “Gods, it hurts worse than before.”

“Nothing to take your mind off it. And the magic heals quickly, but it isn’t always gentle. I’m sorry.”

“Up the stairs, to your right, then right again, and take the staircase to the spire.”

“I’ll be back as soon as may be.”

Revanth nodded, easing into his chair. Alton ran up the steps, following his friend’s directions. He found the spire, but was greeted by blank walls. Puzzled, he turned in a slow circle.

“There’s nothing here!” he sent mentally to Revanth.

“Magic. Close your eyes and follow your nose.”

Doing so, Alton found Revanth’s room first. He discovered Rialtia huddled on the bed, wrapped in iron chains. The time had not been kind to her. Iron acts like poison on fae, and she had been chained up for nearly two days. Alton couldn’t help but strut in, cocky and self-assured. He knew it was foolish, but he hated her with a passion unequaled. Seeing her thus brought down was pleasing to him.

“Met your match, did you? Stupid cow. You shouldn’t under estimate your opponent.”

“Neither should you,” she croaked, making a magical gesture with one hand. She mumbled words of power and Alton felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. Her hand twisted and it felt as if someone had stabbed him with hot metal on the inner thigh. “You came for her,” she whispered. “But it’s too late. She doesn’t remember you.”

Alton flung his dagger at her, hitting her square in the chest. The pain in his head and leg ceased as Rialtia slid to the floor.

“Then I will win her heart again,” he declared. “I will always come for her, no matter how far. She is my life. And you, twisted, evil witch that you are—you’re dead.”

Rialtia’s death rattle shook her body as she slumped against the bed. The iron chains rattled, tangling around her. It was then he heard he screaming and felt the tremors of the building beneath him. Of course, the castle was her magical creation. With Rialtia dead, how could it stand?

“Velda!” he bellowed. “Where are you? My love!”

“Alton? We’re here! We’re chained.”

Following her voice, Alton rushed to their cell. The hidden door was visible now, since the magic was collapsing. Throwing the bolt, he ran into the room. Velda stood a few feet away, chained with bronze instead of iron. Astrid was bound by iron. Neither woman looked her best, but they hadn’t suffered like Rialtia.

“Do you truly know me?” he said, stopping a foot out of range.

“I know you. You are my Alton, the man whose perfect form enticed me away from home.”

“And you are my beautiful Velda, the love of my life.” He took her hands, kissing her.

“Not to interrupt this touching reunion,” Astrid complained. “But wouldn’t you like to leave before the place collapses around us?”

“Of course.” He grinned. “Stretch the chain across the stone there and pull,” he told the women.

They did as he told them. With several strikes of his sword, he severed the chains. It didn’t do his sword much good, but their freedom was more important. There would be other swords, there was only one Velda.

“My mother?” Velda asked as they ran past her cell.

“Dead. I’m sorry.”

She hesitated. The castle shuddered and their room fell away.

“Time for grieving later!” Astrid screamed, grabbing them by the hands.

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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Alton & Velda Part 34 by Dellani Oakes

alton and velda cover smallerAided by the puka, Alton discovers Marigold’s true name is Topaz. He also discovers where his friends are being held, and that the women won’t know him.

Topaz shrieked, her eyes blazing at him. Laughing, Alton went inside. The few servants he met, scurried out of his way.

He stopped one of them with a gentle hand on her arm. “Mistress Rialtia is a prisoner. Mistress Topaz is wrapped up, at the moment, so I’m in charge. I’m Alton, and I need help with a few things. Do you think you and the others could assist me? When I’m done, you can go.”

“Go? Where?”

“Home. That’s if you want to. I can’t imagine a forest nymph like you enjoys being in the desert.”

“Not at all. You’ll release us?”

“Yes. But first, I need to get my friends free.”

“The black haired one is in the dungeon. This way.’

Alton followed her, wary for attack. Not everyone was going to like the new regime. He expected resistance, and wasn’t surprised when he got it. It didn’t come from the nymph. She was, as Alton suspected, ready to leave and wanted to get her part done as soon as possible. However, Topaz must have friends among the guards, because he was attacked before he got across the courtyard. Already, two men were trying to free the gnome from her binding, only to get trapped themselves.

The men who attacked him, had more sense than to touch him, but that made them no less dangerous. One had a crossbow, another a pike. He’d crossed the courtyard, and entered the great hall, when a bolt smacked into the door beside him. More annoyed than anything, Alton merely slammed the door shut behind him. That’s when the pikeman struck, coming at him from behind a tapestry. He got tangled in it, but slashed his way through, rushing Alton.

The nymph screeched and ran in the opposite direction. Alton had no choice but to draw his sword and dagger. Against a pike, it was minimal protection, but his fast thinking saved him from a worse fate. His dagger in his right hand, sword in his left, he caught the pike, crossing the blades to prevent an upswing. For a few precious seconds, he had the man trapped. It was all he needed to kick sharply, connecting with the pikeman’s knee. A satisfying crack, followed by a yowl of pain, and the pikeman fell to the floor. Alton snatched up the pike, throwing it across the room, burying the tip in the door. A yelp from outside told him the tip had gone through, surprising someone on the other side.

“Anyone else want a go at me? Or would you rather go home? I’m here to end this, you fugging lumpties!” he bellowed as he searched for the dungeon steps.

After much trial and error, he finally found what he was after. The spiral stair was long and dark at the bottom. Taking a torch from up top, he carried it in his right hand. Sword in his dominant left, he trotted down the stairs. Listening carefully as he neared the bottom, he heard the usual moans and groans one anticipated in a dungeon. There was also the crack of a whip, followed by muffled curses.

“Revanth! Is that you, my friend?”

“Alton! Make this idiot quit hitting me, would you?”

“Gladly. Where are you?”

“Ahead and to your right.”

The sounds had stopped, but Revanth’s curses hadn’t. Seconds later, Alton burst into the room, torch and sword in hand. A gnarled gnome held a whip which was hardly big enough to qualify. He was short, scrawny, wizened and probably the oldest living creature Alton had ever seen, next to Old John. He brandished the whip at Revanth, then at Alton. Revanth was suspended by chains from the ceiling. His shirt was removed, his boots gone. His back was covered with welts and he looked mad as a wet hornet.

With the tip of his sword, Alton forced him closer to Revanth. When the gnome was in range, the warrior prince wrapped his legs around the gnome’s neck and squeezed until the gnarled old coot fell on the ground.

“Is he dead?” Revanth asked as Alton undid the cuffs which held him.

“No.”

“More’s the pity. I hoped I’d cracked the pissing bugger’s neck.”

Alton examined his friend. The wounds were scattered around about halfway up his torso both front and back. “This doesn’t look too bad.”

“He’s short, isn’t he,” Revanth said in a matter of fact tone. “Doesn’t even come up to my hip.”

Shrugging, Alton helped his friend stand. “So?”

“So—he’s got no reach much above the knees. Think, man!” He bent over, hissing.

“Oh, the dear gods. He didn’t—” Alton hissed as well, covering his balls with one hand.

“No, but that doesn’t mean the little prick didn’t try!” He kicked the gnome in the head and was delighted to see him bleed profusely. “The girls are upstairs, but they don’t know me. They called on Marigold to lock me up!”

“Her real name is Topaz. Might come in handy, knowing that.”

Revanth nodded his thanks.

They limped up the stairs. When they were near the top, Alton left Revanth, doing a quick check for trouble. He didn’t find any. The castle had a deserted air, for which he was grateful.

“I suppose I should go back and free the other prisoners,” he remarked casually as he helped Revanth sit.

“Might be nice of you.”

“You’ll be all right here?”

© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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ABIGAIL’S WINDOW BY SUSAN LYNN SOLOMON

Susan Solomon

ABOUT THIS FAB NOVEL

Abigail Bender lost her only love at Gettysburg in 1863. One hundred and fifty years later Kaitlyn Novacs, teetering on the edge of a breakdown after the loss of her one love, encounters Abigail’s spirit in a quaint Canadian inn. There’s a connection between these women, Kaitlyn feels it the first moment she sees the ghost but refuses to admit it. She is forced to accept how closely her fate mirrors the ghost’s when through Abigail’s window she witnesses the ghost’s life and death. Still, there’s a secret Abigail withholds from Kaitlyn. Will discovering that secret come too late to save Kaitlyn from Abigail’s fate?

Abigail's window

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT ABIGAILS WINDOW!


Amazon Customer

5.0 out of 5 stars

GOOD BOOKS MATTER!!!!!!

May 16, 2019

Format: Kindle Edition

Even in this digital age there is nothing to compare then picking up a book like Abigail’s window sitting in a comfortable chair on a rainy day with a hot beverage by your side and immersing yourself into a story that grips you from the beginning until the very end. A little history a little romance a little intrigue everything that you want to get away from the Monday and world that we are in I’m so glad that I let Abigail‘s window Take me away for a little while and I can’t wait for Susan Solomon’s next book to do the same thank you Susan please keep writing

David M. Hoffman

5.0 out of 5 stars

A genre-busting read

July 13, 2019

Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase

Ghosts, history and the power of love. Something for everyone. Buy it, cry a little, smile a lot

WANT A SNEAK PEAK ?

Chapter One

Face in the Window

As I stepped from the rental car, I saw the lace curtains pulled aside in a second floor window. I felt eyes stare down at me. My jaw dropped. Had it followed me here?

Ronnie Hoffmann glanced at me over the roof of the car. “What’s wrong now?” she said.

I stood, blinking.

With a shrug, she turned to Andrea O’Rourke, who popped the trunk and lifted out our suitcases.

When I looked again at the window I saw a woman, but not quite a woman. She appeared to be… transparent. Shuddering, I turned my back to the house.

Yeah, I’m cold too, Katy. Get your suitcase.” Ronnie took off her thick-rimmed glasses and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. Though only in her early thirties, her long black hair showed streaks of gray.

I wrapped my heavy coat tight around my chest but didn’t move. I hadn’t wanted to come to Niagara-on-the-Lake, hadn’t wanted to leave my apartment. After what I’d been through, I never wanted to venture out again. Ronnie had refused to let me become a hermit.

You waiting for April when the snow melts?” she called to me.

I lifted my eyes to the window. The curtains were closed. Feeling as though the woman continued to watch me, I shrank back against the car door. “Somebody’s… up there.”

Andrea clicked her tongue.

Another ghost?” Ronnie slammed the car trunk closed. “The Niagara Inn isn’t any more haunted than your apartment.”

My friend knew what haunted me. She had helped to pull me through a breakdown seven years ago. She didn’t believe a ghost caused it then, and didn’t believe one pushed me toward the edge this time.

I pointed to the window. “Don’t you see her?”

Ronnie didn’t bother to look. “Probably another guest.”

The stiff Lake Ontario wind had turned Andrea’s face almost as red as her hair. Looking around the empty parking lot, she said, “Can’t be another guest. No one but us is stupid enough to travel in this weather.” She hefted her suitcase. “Yap out here if you want. I’m going inside.”

Shivering, I examined the bed and breakfast Ronnie had brought me to for a long, girls-only weekend. Pale behind the falling snow and surrounded by skeletons of azalea bushes and a row of evergreen hedges, the Niagara Inn rose two stories above what appeared to be an ancient brick foundation.

Come on, come on. I’m about to turn into an icicle,” Andrea complained.

More like a cherry popsicle,” Ronnie said.

Yeah, whatever.” Our redheaded friend turned and stomped off through the snow.

The wind rushed up to encircle me. In its howl, I heard a familiar laugh. This disembodied sound had chased me since my teenage years. I looked at our car, now coated with a thin layer of snow. I had an urgent desire to get in, drive back across the border to the Buffalo airport and fly home to Manhattan. Though the laughter also haunted me there, at least in familiar surroundings I could almost ignore it.

While I thought about fleeing, the lake wind pushed me toward the house. I held fast.

Ronnie grabbed the sleeve of my black faux-fur coat. “Come on!”

I pulled away. “I can’t… the laugh.”

You’re hearing it again?”

I nodded.

She took me by the shoulders. “You’re not being haunted, Katy. What you hear is just in your head. How many times do I have to tell you that? Now get inside before we both get sick.”

When I still resisted, she gave me a tight-lipped stare—her way of saying, Kaitlyn Novacs, get over yourself.

Ken and I were here for our anniversary five years ago,” she said. “This is a beautiful place, not some crappy dump with cobwebs your warped mind is turning it into. Now move!”

I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. Nothing in this house could be worse than what I’ve been through, I thought.

The wind howled again, louder this time. It might have been telling me, You think so?

Ronnie’s grin wrinkled her eyes. “What an expression. You look like an Eskimo searching for the nearest dogsled. Wanna rub noses?”

I grabbed a handful of snow from a bush and flung it at her. Then, feeling a rush of warmth for my best and sometimes only friend, I hugged her.

Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” she said. “Now can we get out of this storm?”

With her hand propelling me forward, I slogged through drifting snow from the parking lot to the Niagara Inn’s door where Andrea O’Rourke waited.

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