Deleted Scenes--Nokose and Singing Grass at Horseshoe Bend

 Happy Deleted Scenes Day!

Today, I'm posting another of Nokose's scenes. This time he's at Horseshoe Bend, or "Horse's Flat Foot" as the Creek called it (Cholocco Litabixee in Muskogee).

You'll find him waking from another nightmare to find Jackson's army and the impending battle only hours away.

Below is an image depicting the battle ground.

Nokose and Singing Grass at Cholocco Litabixee, “Horse’s Flat Foot”

March 27, 1814   
Sitting up with a start, Nokose used his shirtsleeve to wipe sweat from his forehead. He sucked the chilled night air into his lungs in an effort to slow the frantic pace of his heart.
Only coals remained from last night’s campfire. Nokose studied the glowing embers as he tried to forget the nightmare. He leaned back against the earthen wall built to protect them from Jackson’s artillery.
The massive barricade stretched across the narrow landward end of the small peninsula. The chiefs assured their warriors they were well protected behind it, yet Nokose did not feel safe. An advancing army by day and haunting dreams by night had shattered his nerves.
Movement came from the brave who had bedded down near him last night. “Did you hear something?”
“It was I. A dream. Go back to sleep.”
“No, over there. Something is amiss.”
Nokose heard it now as well.
A low rumble of voices penetrated the thick fog hanging about them. Unable to see more than twenty paces, Nokose made his way toward the sound.
The timbre increased and soon warriors scrambled in all directions like a disturbed ant pile. Nokose grabbed the arm of a passing Eufala warrior. “What is it? Is Jackson near?”
“He comes with the dawn.”
Nokose collected his few belongings and sprinted toward Tohopeka and Singing Grass.
Months earlier, the village of Tohopeka had been hastily erected to house the women as far as possible from the wall.
Many of them had joined in the labor of hauling dirt and stones to fill the gap between the two vertical log walls. When the last bucket of dirt had been smoothed into place, the women stood back with their men and admired the daunting rampart they had created.
Now, they lay in their cabins dreaming of better times. The women had been guaranteed that even under the heaviest assault, they would be safe on the Horse’s Flat Foot. Even so, Nokose would not have Singing Grass stay.
She had promised to leave before the enemy drew too close for her to make an escape, but now, Nokose wondered if it might be too late.
Jackson had pushed his men hard and covered the distance quicker than they had expected.
Nokose’ dashed across the expansive meadow soon to be a battlefield. Reaching the glade that nestled the village, Nokose streaked past cabins illuminated by hazy moonlight.
He stopped outside the dwelling which housed Singing Grass and two dozen other women. Using the wall of it as support for his heaving back, Nokose composed himself for what might be his last moments with his wife.
Certain he would never be well prepared, he opened the door. Unconcerned with waking the other women, he strode toward where he knew Singing Grass slept.
The essence of beauty, she lay with her hair loosed about her shoulders. Their baby daughter, Black Sky snuggled against her. He squatted next to their mat and woke Singing Grass with a touch to the cheek.
“Is it time?” she asked, instantly alert.
“It might be too late, but you must try.” He gathered the baby into his arms. Not waking, she melded her body to his. He caressed her smooth chin, and relished the warmth of her tiny form.
Silently, Singing Grass stood and followed him out the door. It was a short trek to the Tallapoosa River and the canoes moored along its edge. With a tender kiss to her silky cheek, Nokose wedged Black Sky in her blanket in the bottom of a canoe. He pushed it into the water then held it steady while Singing Grass stepped in.
Neither spoke, as they cut through the river. In unison, they dug their oars into the current and followed its path south around the sharp bend of the Horses’ Flat Foot.
Once Nokose felt certain they had passed the location on the peninsula where the barricade was located, he banked the canoe on the western shore. Tension filled the air they breathed. Nokose felt certain the enemy would be upon them within the hour.
Singing Grass pulled him to her and wept in silence. Her shoulders shook, so he pressed her tight against him hoping to pass his strength on to her.
He stroked her loose hair, his tone firm, insistent. “Follow the river until you reach Kossati. From there, you will find the villagers. Do not stop along the shore. If you tire, then rest and let the water carry you. But do not get out of the canoe.”
To be certain she had heard and understood the severity of his command, he pushed her away and peered into her wet eyes.
She nodded and rubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands, reminding him of the young girl she had been when he first loved her. They had loved each other hard and well the last twelve harvests.
“You have made me happy man. May the spirits protect you.” As the prayer left his mouth, it sounded hollow. Useless.
He ignored the doom lodged in his chest and placed an oar into her hand. He tried to step from the canoe, but she would not release him.
“If all is lost, promise me you will surrender.” Her voice shook with fear. “Do not sacrifice your life needlessly. Come back to me.”
He nodded once, and pressed his lips to hers. Pulling brusquely away, he leaned his weight into the canoe. It moved into the current, but he clutched the side, reluctant to let go.
“Your rifle!” Singing Grass held out the weapon.
Nokose pushed it away. “Take it. Give it to Galena with this message for my white father, ‘May it take white lives no more’.”
“I will tell her,” Singing Grass promised.
“Now go! Row fast and hard. Even now, the sun lights the sky.” With a grunt, he shoved the canoe sending it into the current. He watched as Singing Grass pumped the oars and lengthened the distance between them.
When she disappeared into the obscurity of pre-dawn, he trotted along the river’s edge toward the battle to come. The one that would, one way or the other, end this grisly war.

Another COTT Victory!

This week Elaine Marie Cooper takes the crown over at Clash of the Titles.  The category was Most Romantic Moment and the excerpt was from her novel The Road to Deer Run.  She beat out her competitor Lorna Seilstad with a 54% to 46% vote. 

Elaine is a wonderful addition to the COTT hall of fame, her warmth and enthusiasm making her Clash one of the most enjoyable yet.  And Elaine is no stranger to the site.  She's been a participating reader and sponsor for months.  So when she got the news she had been chosen, she responded:

I am shouting for joy that my submission has been accepted! Thank you so much!! I am very honored to be a COTT contender!

A snippet from Elaine's excerpt:

Mary began to relax. Daniel’s voice was soothing to her spirit. By the time the brush had reached the crown of her head, she was closing her eyes, the tension falling from her face.

Daniel smoothed her soft locks with his hand. “There. Your hair is lovely.”

If you missed it, you can read the full excerpt here.
 

What did Elaine think of her Clash? It's clear she's enjoyed every minute, even before knowing the verdict:

I'm so excited for this opportunity, Michelle and again, I so appreciate having my excerpt chosen. Thank you.

And once the Clash was underway:

It's a thrill to be here at COTT!

It's a thrill to have you! Elaine's energy infused the entire two weeks of the Clash with excitement and fun.  It ended up being one of the most commented-on clashes, for both contenders.

Readers were just as delighted.  A few comments:

• Caught me up in what is behind the attack this woman faced and how can she get over it. Such a compassionate man at her side

• The quiet strengthening of a bond between the characters, apparently in the aftermath of a terrible experience. That's wonderful! But what did it for me? He was brushing her hair. /sigh/

• This sounds wonderful. I love reading about the revolutionary war and I like your cover!

Way to go, Elaine! Find out more about Elaine in her COTT interview here.

Professional History:

Christian, Wife, Mother, Grammie to triplets, Registered Nurse, Novelist, Blog Writer for Reflections in Hindsight reflectionsinhindsight.wordpress.com and The Barn Door www.thebarndoor.net , Magazine Freelance writer, Newspaper columnist.

Fun Bio:

I have three favorite grandchildren: Jack, Chloe and Luke. :-) I love my family. I drink hot tea all year and LOTS of it (caffeinated of course). I want to rescue all the shelter dogs but my husband says, "NO!" (we already have three dogs...) I cry at Hallmark commercials. I love Hallmark movies. I love to read, write, crochet, cross stitch, watch Jane Austen movies. I love to look at my flower garden (after I have weeded it and when there is no snow!) I hate mushrooms. I dream of living closer to my grandbabies.

Make sure to come take part in our next Clash on Monday: Emotional Intensity from our waiting-to-be-published authors.

by Michelle Massaro

Today is the Amazon Best Sellers Launch of 

MY MOTHER THE MAN-EATER by Tracy Krauss!!  

Buy the book today and get in on all kinds of other fantastic free gifts – everything from sample chapters, free editing, critiquing, and more!
CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO

About the book:
Loaded with humor, action, intrigue and romance, My Mother the Man- Eater is the story of a woman whose search for meaning in life finds an unexpected outlet. Joleen Allen is on the hunt for a man. Unfortunately, every time the mother of five meets one, he falls for one of her daughters instead! At forty-four, Joleen has lived a tough life. She became a mother at 16, and her five daughters are now grown. Her ex-husband, Harold, is out of prison and back in the picture, looking for revenge. He’ll stop at nothing – even murder – to ruin Joleen’s reputation as well as her relationship with their daughters. My Mother the Man-Eater makes for some truly tempting and redemptive reading.

Tracy Krauss teaches high school art, drama and English. Originally from a small town in Saskatchewan, she received her bachelor’s degree in Saskatoon. MY MOTHER THE MAN-EATER was originally inspired when she was playing the Sims! The interesting back stories and interaction that occurred soon mushroomed into the idea for this book – a forty something cougar on the quest for fulfillment.

Her debut novel AND THE BEAT GOES ON, also a romantic suspense, has an archeological and creationist twist and has met with very favorable reviews. She is also a playwright and has written and produced numerous plays.  She currently lives in Tumbler Ridge, British Columbia, and is working on several more works of fiction.

For more about Tracy and her writing, visit:
Website - www.tracykrauss.com
Blog - www.tracykraussexpressionexpress.com
Amazon link - www.kraussamazon.com

Deleted Scenes--Red Eagle Surrenders

Today, in our deleted scene, we see Red Eagle surrendering to General Andrew Jackson. How humiliating it must have been. As I mention in the notes at the end of Wounded Spirits, Red Eagle (William Weatherford) and Andrew Jackson maintained a friendship until the end of Red Eagle's life.

The image is an early depiction of Red Eagle's surrender. It's a popular painting but not quite accurate. Red Eagle is dressed in the style of the plains indians instead of that of the southeastern tribes.

I just found a beautiful image of Red Eagle's famous leap from the bluff at the Battle of Holy Ground. You can see it HERE.

Red Eagle Surrenders

Fort Jackson
April 1814
Sensing Red Eagle’s next move, Arrow halted in the path leading to Fort Jackson.
Like an apparition from the forest, a buck stepped onto the path before them. His large, unflinching eye held Red Eagle’s gaze.
With seamless ease, Red Eagle reached behind him and chose one arrow. Forgive me, my friend, he begged as his taut bow launched the barbed shaft into the animal’s heart.
    With the buck slung across the horse in front of his saddle, he reloaded his rifle. Should any white faction chief give him a reason to use it, he would be ready.
Because of his role at the Mims’ place, every man outside the Red Stick faction wanted him dangling from a rope.
Since the great defeat at The Horse’s Flat Foot--of which Red Eagle had not been a part--only a few, small warring parties had dared face General Jackson’s army. Every sensible Red Stick knew the war was over, knew the fate of the Muscogee People.
One by one, the great chiefs had made their way to Fort Jackson to sit before General Andrew Jackson and sign his treaty. Chief Red Eagle Weatherford now rode the same path of humility, alone yet determined.
Uncertain of what his future held, Red Eagle hoped for a chance to speak on behalf of his people before an angry crowd overtook him.
He was surprised to be able to ride through the fort without drawing any attention. Not knowing where to find General Jackson, he stopped to ask.
A youthful soldier with a tattered blue coat and a crutch under his arm grunted a reply and pointed  the way.
When Red Eagle arrived at Jackson’s marquee, he found Big Warrior sitting outside it, a fat cigar between his teeth.
The White, peace-faction chief spotted Red Eagle and hefted his large frame off the stool. “Billy Weatherford, we have you at last!” he said with an exultant air.
Red Eagle gripped the rifle laying across his legs then peered down his nose at the man. It had been a long time since Red Eagle had heard his Scottish name, but the familiarity did not ease the tension. “You cursed traitor. If you give me any insolence, I’ll blow a ball through your cowardly heart.”
Big Warrior’s eyes narrowed, but before he could reply, General Jackson stomped from his tent, red-faced.
“How dare you, sir, ride up to my tent, after having murdered the women and children at Fort Mims!” He clutched the sheathed saber at his side.
A crowd formed as word spread of Red Eagle’s arrival.
He let the buck slip from his horse. “A gift for you.” He dismounted then faced the general.
“General Jackson, I am not afraid of you,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “I fear no man, because I am a Creek warrior. I have nothing to request on my behalf.” He shrugged. “You can kill me, if you want. But let me beg you to send for the women and children of the war party. They starve in the woods.”
“Where was your concern for our women and children at Fort Mims?” someone cried.
All around him, angry voices rose in agreement, as a crowd formed and pressed in.
Red Eagle rushed on, raising his voice to be heard. “I exerted myself in vain to prevent the massacre of innocents at Fort Mims. And now, the Creek crops have been destroyed by your people. Your soldiers have driven our women to the woods without an ear of corn. I ask you send out parties, to safely conduct them here, so they might be fed.”
The noise of protest from the onlookers grew, but Red Eagle kept his eyes locked on Jackson. In contrast to the horde, the General’s face had softened.
Maybe there was hope.
“The Red Sticks are nearly all killed. Their bones are at Talladega, Tallushatchee, and the Horseshoe. If I could fight you any longer, I would, but I am done.
“The women and children never did you any harm. Send for them, but kill me, if the white people want it.” He dropped to one knee and extended his rifle in surrender, mentally preparing himself for sentencing.
“Kill him! Kill him!” The chant filled the air, and Red Eagle knew his fate.
Long moments passed as General Jackson stood before him immobile. “Silence!” he at last commanded. “Any who would kill as brave a man as this would rob the dead.”
Red Eagle breathed deep of the humid air. He would return to his wife and children and be given a chance to help rebuild the nation. General Jackson was a great chief, and Red Eagle sensed a bond with the man’s warrior heart.
Jackson ignored the weapon Red Eagle offered him, as warmly as he would an old friend, he motioned toward his marquee. “Would you care for a drink?”

LAYING BARE

Reading all the excerpts shared at Clash of the Titles this month, and discussing falling for heroes, has made me think back to other tender scenes I've encountered. Many stories make our hearts beat faster or awaken a deep longing within us—both in books and movies—and one such story is The Notebook. Yeah, yeah, it's often ridiculed by the guys. But women everywhere swoon. Why? Because in the movie we see a man who loves a woman—even when she doesn't know him.
Sound familiar?
We've been having a pitter-patter love fest here at COTT the past few weeks with all these Romantic Moments--by Lorna Seilstad, Elaine Marie Cooper, Joanne Troppello, and Karen Witemeyer--and as we come down off the sugar rush of Valentine's candy it occurred to me that no Valentine's month would be complete without focusing on our first love. And I don't mean the boy you kissed behind the bleachers in seventh grade, or even prince charming. I'm talking about the King of Kings. Today I thought it only appropriate to turn my eyes upward.
John 1:10 tells us that He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.
So The Notebook in this way is a picture of Christ loving his bride, the church. Christ is the lover of our souls!
We also read in Romans 5:8 that while we were still sinners Christ died for us. And from John 15:13 we know Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.
His love is not based on what we do or how we look. It's not based on seduction, flirtation, or how we make Him feel. He loves us for who we are; He loves us when we are exposed.
Isn't it breath-takingly romantic when a husband finds his wife most beautiful first thing in the morning, before she's applied her makeup and arranged her hair just right? So also, we need no "beauty tricks" to win Him. We don't need to hide our flaws, whether physical or spiritual. We couldn't if we tried—all things are laid bare before Him. And yet He loves us. Enough to die.
That's what I call a hero.

 
Thank you, Jesus, for rescuing me and drawing me into your embrace; for loving me with all my flaws exposed.  I'm deep in love with you, Lord.

What other pictures of Christ have you found in romantic stories? Or, share how He captures your heart.

By Michelle Massaro

Deleted Scenes--Red Eagle Attempts to Stop the Madness

 This Monday's deleted scene begins the few I have of Red Eagle. I laugh now at the number of POVs I had in the original book. Seven, if memory serves. Red Eagle's was one of them that had to go.

Although the following scene makes Red Eagle appear noble, it is rather a rather harsh portrayal of the remaining chiefs involved in the massacre of Fort Mims. Including it threw off the balance of the book.

There are mixed accounts of Red Eagle's desire for involvement in the massacre, but most portray him as the reluctant chief. The following scene is pretty close to the actual historical account. Below is a sketch of Fort Mims.

Enjoy!


Red Eagle Attempts to Stop the Madness

Mounted on Arrow, his gray stallion, Red Eagle stood outside the burning fort before the only remaining fortification. While he did not pray to the white man’s god, he was familiar with the prominent passages from their holy book. A Psalm sifted through the chinking in the blockhouse.
“…Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…” The voices of women mingled with the cries of children.
A few men remained, yes, but on the whole, the job was done. These were a people defeated, desperate.
Red Eagle swept hair from his face and nodded with satisfaction.
Around him, warriors plundered the dead taking anything of value. Scalps dangled from poles in

Early depiction of the battle

their hands. It had been rumored the Spanish governor in Pensacola would pay five dollars a scalp.
In search of the other chiefs, Red Eagle directed his horse to a copse of trees. He found them sitting in a circle near a group of tethered horses.
They hushed as Red Eagle alighted from Arrow. “You and your braves fought well. You are to be commended. This day the whites know we are not to be trifled with. Tell the men to drag our dead to the potato field for burial. We leave before nightfall.”
The chiefs leaped to their feet. “We will not return to our wives until the task is done,” one challenged.
Red Eagle drew himself up. “We must lay down the tomahawk. Only women and children remain. To kill them would be barbarism.”
The chiefs gawked at him.
“All must die. It is the Creek way. Will you call our ancestors barbaric?” asked another.
Red Eagle was the principal chief in this battle. Did his words carry no weight? Eying each chief in the ring, Red Eagle gathered every ounce of authority and influence he possessed. “I refuse to allow helpless women and children to be butchered. Not one warrior will disgrace himself and raise his club again today.”
It was not enough.
 From behind, a knife dug into his throat. He had not heard the man coming. “Your heart has been softened by the whites and their ways,” hissed a voice in his ear. “Should we kill you as one of them? Shall we add your scalp to theirs?” Spittle flicked onto Red Eagle’s face. “It is not such a long ride to your home and your children.”
Red Eagle’s heart leapt in his chest at the mention of his family. “Those who destroy the weak only prove their own weakness,” he ground out. The blade bit into his flesh. Warmth trickled down his neck. “Very well. Have it your way.”
The warrior released him.
Red Eagle swiped at the blood on his neck. “I have done what I came to do. I will have no part in the massacre of innocents.”
Reaching for Arrow, he swung onto him and left the grounds at a gallop. The horse ran until his sides heaved and lather formed on his withers. Still, Red Eagle urged him on. He could not run fast enough from the slaughter he had begun, yet had been helpless to stop.

Fort Mims

At This Site They Bravely Battled...

It's time once more to announce a new Hero at Clash of the Titles.  Two authors fought not with weapons and warriors, but with gentleness and devotion.  This was a clash of Romantic Moments.  Our swooning excerpts were from Karen Witemeyer's A Tailor-Made Bride, and Joanne Tropello's Mr. Shipley's Governess.  Two fantastically romantic scenes.  And the winner is...

Karen Witemeyer's A Tailor-Made Bride!


Congratulations! A Tailor-Made Bride is Karen's debut novel and recently won the 2010 Best Western Romance contest. So it's really no surprise that she's won this week's honors at COTT as well.  A snippet from her winning excerpt:

"So…uh…did you like the sunflowers?" J.T. steeled himself as Hannah turned to pass him a platter.

Her eyes widened slightly and roses bloomed in her cheeks, but the smile that followed unclenched his gut. "I loved them. The other gifts as well. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She bent back to her task, rummaging in the grayish water for something else to wash. "I had hoped they were from you."

J.T. forced a casual air to his voice he was far from feeling. "You got someone else courting you?"

(for the full excerpt, click HERE)

Some reader quotes:

·         Beautiful excerpts, both of them! But, I confess, I was hooked from the moment J.T. dried Hannah's hands with his towel.

·         Ah, so romantic. What a wonderful way to start the "love" month!

·         I was pulled straight into the scene without even knowing it. Drying the hands up to tracing the "hollow at the base of the neck" was a detail that drew the reader in.

About writing such romantic moments into her novel, Karen says:

"The joy in writing these scenes is that as the omniscient author, I know these two people are meant to be together, and I get to help them discover that truth for themselves."

Of her time at COTT, Karen comments: "It's been so much fun to participate."

Karen lives in Abilene, TX with her hunky, computer nerd husband who has heroically saved her sanity on several occasions when evil glitches arise to assault her laptop. They have three children who think it's cool that their mom writes books even if the people on her covers usually have no heads. Karen is an avid cross-stitcher, shower singer, and bakes a mean apple cobbler.

To read about how she met that hunky husband of hers and the crush she has on her heroes, click HERE

*****

About the book:

When a dressmaker who values beauty tangles with a liveryman who condemns vanity, the sparks begin to fly!

Jericho "J.T." Tucker wants nothing to do with the new dressmaker in Coventry, Texas. He's all too familiar with her kind--shallow women more devoted to fashion than true beauty. Yet, except for her well-tailored clothes, this seamstress is not at all what he expected.

Hannah Richards is confounded by the man who runs the livery. The unsmiling fellow riles her with his arrogant assumptions and gruff manner, while at the same time stirring her heart with unexpected acts of kindness. Which side of Jericho Tucker reflects the real man?

When Hannah decides to help Jericho's sister catch a beau--leading to consequences neither could have foreseen--will Jericho and Hannah find a way to bridge the gap between them?

About the Author

Karen Witemeyer writes historical romance fiction for Bethany House Publishing. She is a member of ACFW, RWA, and her local writers' guild. Visit Karen online at http://www.karenwitemeyer.com/.

*****

Congratulations once again, Karen!  COTT's next Clash begins Monday, V-Day, with two more Romantic Moments.  Don't forget to vote and enter the free book drawing!

~Article by Michelle Massaro, COTT Assistant Editor

Launch of "Awakening", a novel by JoAnn Durgin

With this week being author JoAnn Durgin's book launch, I'm happy to have her on my blog. I met JoAnn at the ACFW Conference in Indianapolis last September. She's a spunky gal with a contagious smile. I've just ordered her book, so I can't give an opinion on it, but it's getting fantastic reviews.

Here's a bit about Awakening.

A God-fearing man. A God-seeking woman. It’s a combustible combination. Lexa Clarke signs up for a short-term summer mission in San Antonio with TeamWork Missions, hoping to make a difference in the world. TeamWork director Sam Lewis has a job to do and can't afford to be distracted by the petite, feisty blonde. But when she tumbles into his arms from the top of a house they’re rebuilding, Sam suspects his life will never be the same. 

You can purchase the book HERE 

Interview with the author: 

What's your latest book?

My debut novel, Awakening, was published by Canadian publisher, Torn Veil Books, in late 2010. This particular story is precious to me because it was written more than a decade ago and is loosely based on my own love story with my husband, Jim. Sam and Lexa are uniquely special to me and become my core characters and mentors in a continuing series as they minister and interact with volunteers in Sam’s TeamWork Missions organization. A lot of the strength of character, unwavering faith and goodness in Sam Lewis is based on my Jim. Some of the feistiness and stubbornness in Lexa Clarke (yes, Lewis and Clarke – they are adventures, after all) is based on yours truly, but I choose to believe I also share my heroine’s resourcefulness and resilience.

Awakening was also the last story I wrote before putting my writing aside for a decade to raise my children. When I unearthed it (literally from beneath the bed and blew off the dust bunnies) in late 2008, I only found half the story. It was like someone else had written it, but as I read it again with fresh eyes, I felt this was the story the Lord wanted me to pursue getting published. Jim and I prayed about it, and I knew He’d give the story back to me if it was, in fact, in His will. Not only did He give it back to me in a dramatic way, but the Lord confirmed it was the one. I hope you’ll read all about my writing journey on my website at www.joanndurgin.com. 

How do your faith and spiritual life play into the picture and affect your storytelling?

Faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love. God first loved us so much that He sent His Son to die for our sins, and it’s through His boundless love that I write. My stories depict people who often stumble and fall but they find grace, forgiveness, love, redemption and hope when they seek to follow the Lord’s will for their lives. The Lord has been so faithful to me in this writing journey, and I know He’ll continue to open the doors of His choosing in the proper time. He’s truly my Partner. Matthew 5:16 is my personal theme verse, and it’s my prayer that my light will shine through the words in my books, giving light and hope to a hurting world. It’s my high honor and privilege to share the stories the Lord has laid on my heart to share with others.

What do you think makes your style of storytelling unique?

I’ve been told I have a fresh, unique voice. I try to infuse my sense of humor and unique way of phrasing and expression into every book. I especially love getting into the male psyche, and I’ve been told (by those of the male persuasion) that I do it quite well. That’s high praise! I don’t necessarily follow the “three kiss rule” or formula pathway to romance. But that doesn’t mean there’s not conflict and roadblocks along the way to lasting love. I personally feel it’s a greater test of faith and bonds a couple more when they work through issues and confront problems together instead of keeping them apart until the very end where they share a kiss, proclaim their love and ride off into the sunset. That’s a very simplistic way of putting it, but I’m sure you get my point. I am a firm believer in happy endings, and tying up loose ends of a story, although sometimes I carry storylines over from one book to another in the series. But each book can certainly stand alone.

I don’t kill major characters. I just can’t do it. Peripheral characters sometimes die (and a few are maimed along the way), but I just can’t kill ‘em. Although I realize life isn’t always rosy and can seem downright hard and unfair at times, I don’t believe killing beloved characters is something romance readers respond to positively. From a personal perspective, I don’t like it. At least at this early point in my writing career, I want readers to weep tears of joy or because I’ve struck an emotional chord deep inside, but I don’t want them to cry because they’re grieving the loss of a beloved character. You can have drama and realism with all the killing. Christians can laugh as easily as they can cry.

What's one of the oddest or most interesting things someone has ever said about you?

When I once told someone about all the places I’ve lived and visited, she made the comment, “Wow, you’ve certainly been around.” Given the connotation of that statement, I wasn’t pleased, until I realized that yes, I have been around, but in the nicest sense of the word. Now, it’s actually one of my catch phrases when describing myself. By way of explanation – I was born in IN, moved to TX after college, met my husband (a student at Dallas Theological Seminary – he’s from RI), moved to CA, married in KY, honeymooned in HI, had our first child, moved to PA, had two more children and then moved to MA, then my (thankfully highly-adaptable) family back to IN in late 2005. While I have a great appreciation for each place we’ve lived, Kentuckiana (where southern Indiana meets Louisville, KY at the Ohio River) is truly “home in my heart.” Jim and I have always followed where the Lord leads, but in our case, He made it abundantly clear in each instance where He wanted us, and we tried to bloom where we were planted. So, in another important sense, “home in your heart” is so much more than simple geography.

Deleted Scenes--Hester Flees to the Bastion

Welcome back to Deleted Scenes Monday!

Looking back, I'm so glad I deleted all these points of view from Wounded Spirits. Narrowing it to three made for a much smoother novel. But it's fun to share them now.

In this scene from the first version of the book, Hester, the McGirth's freed slave, flees to the bastion--the last stronghold in the fort.

The picket behind "Adela" in the cover of my book is from the actual site of Fort Mims and is a picture of the reconstruction. I took the picture while visiting the site in 2008.

Again, the details and events in this scene are fairly close to what actually happened inside the bastion.

To find out which characters from the bastion survive the battle, you'll have to read the book!

Hester Flees to the Bastion

“To the bastion!  To the bastion!”  The cry went up throughout the remains of the fort, and Hester waited not a moment to answer it. 
Feet pounding on the hot dirt, Hester could just make out Captain Bailey and a squad of men firing hotly from within.  It seemed almost heaven.
Drawing close to the Mims’ home, the smell of burning flesh singed Hester's nose and taunted her with what her future might hold.  Screams could be heard coming from within as she took the shortest route to the bastion and close by the flaming dwelling. 
In a swift, unexpected moment the building collapsed sending sparks and debris flying toward Hester.  She weaved to the right jumping over small beams of burning timber.  Ignoring her flaming skirt, Hester dashed toward the bastion reaching it just before a large group of whites which were rushing from the opposite direction.  She squeezed through the door and ran toward the back of the small enclosure to make room for those following. 
A blanket was immediately thrown over her skirt to extinguish the flames.  Phillip Bailey beat her skirt free of flames then looked up.  “Have you seen Adela?”  Gone was the gaiety from his beautiful  blue eyes.  His care-free spirit had been replaced by the burdens of a battle weary soldier.
Hester shook her head, tears stinging her eyes.  “No, Suh, I ain’t.  I figure they was in the Mims' place.  I pray to God they’s still alive.”
Phillip nodded once then picked up his rifle and returned to his post at a porthole.
Doctor Holmes, on the far side of the room, pulled a small saw out of the outer wall. He’d cut an opening at the base just large enough for a single person to crawl through.  The boards however were still in place.   Turning and his eyes rounded.  “There isn’t room.  We won’t all fit in here!”
“It gonna get tight, Suh!”  Hester agreed, pressing herself against the wall as people continued to stampede their way through the small opening.  In the rush, children tumbled underfoot. The elderly plead for more air as bodies continued to press in.
Just as Hester felt her ribs might crack if one more person was allowed entry, the door was pulled shut and locked with a crossbeam.  The screams and cries of the small and weak wrenched Hester’s heart.  Nothing could be done to help them. 
  The only spaces in the bastion with a little elbow room were those surrounding the men firing upon the Indians.  Hester noticed that the war whoops coming from outside had greatly diminished and the hostile fire had all but stopped.  She wondered if maybe the answer to their prayers for salvation might have been heard.
In answer to her question, Captain Bailey’s voice rose above the clamor.  “They’ve taken a reprieve—” 
Exclamations of praise and thanksgiving interrupted his statement.
“Hear me out!  It is just a reprieve. They will be back.  And when they come, there will be no mercy.  The ammunition is spent, and there is but a handful of fighting men left.  A small opening has been cut in the outer wall.  I’ll be making my escape from there before the Indians return to finish me off.  I’d rather die running than be burned to death.  My family’s dead.”  Deep anguish seasoned his trembling words.  “I have no one left to fight for.  From here on out, it’s every man for himself.” 
Shrieks of hopelessness and despair overwhelmed the captain’s words.  Hester felt despondency creep into her being, and so she quickly turned to the One that had soothed her soul in times past.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”  Hester began weakly reciting the twenty third aloud to herself in a voice shaky from fear.  Several around her joined in.  “…Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me.”
As one, the panic-stricken throng raised its voice to the Almighty seeking forgiveness, acceptance, and peace with their Maker.

A Note on Romance in Fiction

It’s almost Valentine’s Day and romance is in the air. Clash of the Titles is highlighting Most Romantic Moments for the next four weeks. We’ve kicked off our month of romance with two wonderful excerpts. The names and faces of the authors who wrote those excerpts have just been revealed, so be sure to stop by COTT and find out who they are! If you missed the excerpts, click HERE.

There’s a reason why Romance is the best-selling and most powerful fiction genre. It makes a story relatable to the reader. Even if the story stars non-human characters, like some fantasy, sci-fi, or speculative fiction, the romantic relationship gives the story a human side with which the reader can sympathize. The romance in the story doesn’t have to be happy either. It can be anything from mutual admiration to unrequited love. I hope in most cases fictional characters have a harder time with romance than real people. Authors, including me, do their best to keep conflict between the romantic leads in a story in order to make the plot more exciting. It might not be the nicest thing to do to these characters we love so dearly, but it sure is fun.
Every story needs a little romance, doesn’t it? What do you think?

article by Amanda Flower