War Comes to Gaia in 1 day - A Green Rose Preview

War comes to Gaia in 1 more day. Dare to join the battle?

The Green Rose is a fantasy romance set in the mythical land of Gaia. There are 4 allied nations: N'Gasse, Daháka, Tapin, and Ravenrock. Past Ravenrock, to the east, in a tundra-like land, the savage wyldebeasts are kept at bay a 50,000 myle granite wall that runs the length of Ravenrock.

The evil mage, Balthyser, has betrayed Tapin. Seeking power, he uses the wyldebeasts to attack the allied nations, kidnapping the kings of Tapin and Daháka.

The rulers of the allied nations must seek the Green Rose and harness it's magic in order to defeat Balthyser.

Ravenrock is the land of ravens. It also contains a 50,000 myle wall that separates it from the tundra-like land where the wyldebeasts live. Previous to the wall, the wyldebeasts were kept at bay by the ravens. The beasts feared the black bird. King Talas rules the land, but he's grown lazy and complacent in his duties. Balthyser has found a new home in Ravenrock – Vesper's Keep, near a weak point in the wall. This allows the evil mage access to the wyldebeasts. Talas has been a poor warden of the east, but can he overcome his sloth and greed and be the king Ravenrock needs?

Colin Firth inspiration for "King Talas"


ENJOY THIS EXCERPT:

"The keep is in ruins." Talas' voice was firm.

"When was the last time you inspected the Eastern Wall?" asked Queen Rowan.

Talas frowned. "Upon my ascension."

"Twenty-five years ago?" Disgust was evident in Queen Rowan's voice. "You have been a careless warden of the East, Talas. That wall is to be inspected every five years. I suspect if I went to Vesper Keep right now, we would find it reconstructed and heavily fortified."

"And the breach to the wall itself would be nearby," finished Ivanstan.
Sonia glared at Ravenrock's fat lord who stood before them with a look of disappointment on his face. His laziness in guarding the Eastern Wall threatened to plunge Gaia into war.

"King Erik the Great of Ravenrock would turn over in his grave knowing his descendant had turned to sloth and greed," said Queen Rowan. "Now you must act, Talas, and I expect you to do so with the nobility your position requires."

Talas scrubbed a hand across his mouth and sat in his seat. "Damn." His eyes grew vacant.

Did the fool finally realize his folly? By Nyla, what was worse? A knowing betrayal purported by Balthyser and Gabriel or an ignorant one as committed by Talas?

Finally, Talas looked up. "We are doomed to war. The green rose does not exist."

"I have never heard of the green rose," said Sonia.

"Nor I." Ivanstan placed his hand on top of his chair's headrest. Sonia shared his intense expression.

"True knowledge of the rose is passed down from the monarch to their heir upon death's door." Queen Rowan furrowed her brow. "Talas, it was Ravenrock's turn to send men into the Tagrasse forest to find the witches who guard it. Did you?"

"Aye, but they came back empty handed."

"Empty? That can't be."

"They did not find the witches?" asked Sonia.

"Nay."
"Who did you send? One of your banner houses?"

"Nay -- men from my guard."

Queen Rowan clasped her hands together, fury gathering in her eyes. "Oh, you stupid fool! The witches need to mate! Damn. I pray they are not barren, or the guardians of the rose will die."


BOOK TRAILER:


PREVIOUS: Visit The Writer Limits to learn about Prince Ivanstan at: http://thewriterlimits.blogspot.com

Visit Romance Under the Moonlight to learn about Princess Sonia at:
http://sgcardin.blogspot.com

Visit Lindsay's Romantics to learn about Queen Rowan at:
http://lindsaysromantics.blogspot.com

The Green Rose releases tomorrow, 1 APR and will be available at:
Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
All Romance ebooks
Sony ebook store
Kobo ebook store
Apple ebook store
And from the publisher's website

Join Sonia, Ivanstan, Rowan, and Talas at Romance Under the Moonlight for a launch party tomorrow 1 APR 2012: http://sgcardin.blogspot.com


PUBLISHER'S BUY LINK:
http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-280/The-Green-Rose-Stephanie/Detail.bok

GIVEAWAY: Leave a comment about the fantasy genre along with your email and I'll pick a winner to receive an ARC of The Green Rose tomorrow.

The Fall of American Soap Operas

Thoughts and Laments from a former soap watcher
by: Stephanie Burkhart

In the early 1980's as a young teenager, I discovered soap operas. The first story I remembered watching was Luke and Laura's quest for the Ice Princess. That was it. I was a General Hospital fan. My favorite storyline was the slow-burning character driven romance of Robert and Holly. Then my friend, Alyssa, turned me onto As The World Turns.

I loved to hate Craig from ATWT. Meg Ryan played "Betsy." Julianne Moore was "Frannie." I loved All My Children in the early 1990's with Dimitri and Erica and the Young and Restless' Victor and Hope's story. Then I found Todd Manning and was devoted to One Life to Live.

I thought I'd share some of my favorites with you simply because I miss them. As an aspiring writer, I wrote the "One Life to Live Satire" from 1998-2002. With over 100 episodes, this fan fiction was well received and I even met with Jonathan Reiner from TV Guide who covered the soaps at that time.

What did the soap opera format give me as a writer? The most important thing I received was the ability to picture my stories in my head with a compelling respect for setting. Soaps taught me the importance of a good character driven romance as opposed to a plot driven one. Soaps also taught me the difference between love, passion, lust, and pure, honest romance. I learned the rewards for honesty, loyalty, and integrity, and that crime doesn't pay.

Let's face it, all I needed to know I learned from watching soap operas.



I am heartbroken to see there are only four soap operas on Daytime TV now. In 1990, there were 12.

Who can remember watching with their mom, grandma, or favorite aunt? Heck, my Aunt Mary would drop everything she was doing to watch Guiding Light. Aunt Mary was hooked on Reva. Anything my Aunt Mary did was cool so I joined her.

Why did soaps fail after seventy years after it's inception? Ultimately, I think it was the culmination of a perfect storm of events, but in my observations and research, I've developed 4 points.

1. Working Women
In the 1970's women worked in the house, but through the decade, into the 80's and 90's and beyond, women went to work outside the home. That generational bond between mother and daughter which was previously nurtured, wasn't. Young girls went looking for other shows.

2. AC Nielsen did not keep track of places with common settings such as restaurants, work breakrooms, and health clubs. What else doesn't count? DVR and the Internet. So viewers may actually consist of a higher number, they aren't counted.

3. Cable and Internet provide alternatives to traditional daytime programming.

4. Viewers prefers reality shows to TV melodrama which goes back to point one and passing the legacy of watching a show onto your "loyal" daughter.

What was your favorite show? Your favorite storyline? I'd love to hear your thoughts on the decline of soaps and what impact it might have. What impact did watching soap have on you personally?



A member of Generation X, Stephanie Burkhart was born and raised in New Hampshire. She spent 11 years in the military, serving 7 of them overseas in Germany. Now a 911 Dispatcher for LAPD, Stephanie enjoys reading a good book, Dancing with the Stars, and volunteering in her sons' classrooms. Her December 2011 release is "The Faberge Secret," a Christmas contemporary romance.

REVIEWS:
5 STARS, Celia Yeary, Author
You will thoroughly enjoy this fast-paced tale of danger, a mystery, and a satisfying conclusion. Elise and Dimitri make sparks fly!

5 Stars, Reader's Favorites
Fabulously written, the story combines elements of mystery, action, love, and tender family moments all at the right places, making a perfect fit. If you want a good story combining history, crime, and passion, "The Faberge Secret" is the book for you.

Sue Perkins, Author
The Faberge Secret exceeded my expectations. Definitely worth reading more than once. What more can I say? It is such a good book.

5 Hearts, Sizzling Hot Book Reviews
As the love story thicken, the suspense heightens and it won't let your eyes leave the page. I recommend The Faberge Secret to all of the romance readers. Even if you have never read romance, The Faberge Secret would be a great place to start.

BOOK TRAILER: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nf5ujOoDRXs

BLURB:
Elise Goodwin finds herself faced with danger when she learns the Faberge egg she's bought belongs to a Russian mogul, Dimitri Romanov, but is Dimitri playing a game with Elise's heart to get his heirloom back?

Elise Goodwin runs a heritage museum in Brattleboro, Vermont. She travels to Boston to buy some items for her museum at Sotheby's auction. What she acquires is a delicious surprise that would excite any curator – a Faberge egg.

Enter Russian businessman Dimitri Romanov. He goes to the auction with the intent of buying the egg only to discover that Elise is in possession of it. His dilemma? He's attracted to the petite brunette with doe-like eyes and a trusting disposition.

Complicating matters is Dimitri's rival, Gustav Kelch, who wants the precious jeweled object for his own collection. Can Dimitri protect Elise from Kelch?

ENJOY THIS EXCERPT:

Fascinated by Dimitri's story, Elise sipped her warm milk. "Boris' van was in front of the auction house. He told me the auction didn't want his items. They didn't think they were valuable enough."

Dimitri snapped his fingers. "Ah, all right. That makes sense, but how could they miss the egg? They had to know it was valuable."

"Perhaps they didn't want it. Perhaps they suspected it was stolen and didn't want anything to do with it."

"So why did you buy it?"

"How could I pass up something so precious? I love the beauty of it."

"I'm glad you appreciate the craftsmanship and beauty of the egg."

"Of course I do. I'm an art history major."




Dimitri continued to look at her thoughtfully. He rubbed his chin. "Alexi didn't tell me, but I wonder... could Boris have been his contact?"

"Boris?" Elise sipped her milk. "I doubt it. If you want my opinion, he didn't strike me as the informer type."

"No... Boris mentioned a name. Anatoly, I believe, when I talked to him. I wonder if he was Alexi's informant."

Elise shrugged. The name wasn't familiar to her.

"Perhaps... yes. Perhaps Anatoly was Alexi's informant, and he stole the goods to give to Boris. Boris was supposed to use the auction house to sell them, but they didn't anticipate the auction house not wanting the items, so Boris sold them on the street," Dimitri mused.

"It's plausible, but how did Kelch's men know to track us down?" Elise asked.

Dimitri scrubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. "No... no... but..."

Elise put down the mug and placed her hand on his waist. The contact sparked a fire in her limbs. "What's wrong?"

"Your receipt--" He lowered his hands. Guilt splayed across his face. "I saw it, and that's how I knew Boris had sold you my egg. I... I crumpled it up and threw it on the floor of the van. Kelch must have broken Anatoly, and then sent his men to find Boris. And if they found him--"

"Oh." Elise swallowed at the fear glittering in his eyes -- fear for her. "They found the receipt with my name."

"Yes. Damn it! I should have pocketed the receipt, but I was furious. All I wanted was my egg."

Apprehension coursed through her. That's why Lucy had been attacked. Kelch and his men hoped to find the egg because they knew Elise had bought it. Lucy had just happened to be in the hotel room because Elise was on a date -- with Dimitri.

He pushed her hand off his waist, clenched his fists, and marched into the living room, halting close to the window. Was he angry at her, or at himself? Well, a part of her was angry at him, too. She and Lucy were in danger -- real danger -- because of that egg, but a part of her just wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, to tell him everything would be all right.

Elise shifted from foot to foot. Dimitri truly had protected her and Lucy tonight, but how much could she trust him? Was it all about his egg? That's all he'd thought about when he'd thrown the receipt on the floor. No. This man respected his family. He honored Christmas. He was spiritual. She couldn't let him beat himself up for a mistake.

She left the kitchen and walked up behind him.

He stiffened. "Elise, now is not the time. I want to be alone."

She ignored him and placed her hand on his back just under his shoulders. "I know you didn't intend to put Lucy and me in harm's way."

"But I did."
"Dimitri--"

"No, I've got to fix this. I've got to make this right."

"Dimitri, stop--"

He spun around and pressed the hard length of his body against hers, curving his hand around the nape of her neck. His kiss was hard and demanding. Her core heated. Her bones melted. A man's kiss had never rocked her senses quite like this.


BUY LINKS:
AMAZON KINDLE:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Faberge-Secret-ebook/dp/B006LTE2ZS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324310728&sr=8-1

B&N NOOK:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-faberge-secret-stephanie-burkhart/1105070465?
ean=2940013874596&itm=1&usri=the+faberge+secret

ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS:
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thefabergesecret-657577-149.html

PUBLISHER'S LINK:
http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-236/The-Faberge-Secret-Stephanie/Detail.bok

The Lighthouse Keeper - paranormal flash fiction by Stephanie Burkhart

Audrina knocked on the wooden door. "Mr. Edwards?"

Nothing. A cool breeze blew in from the Atlantic Ocean and Audrina tugged on the shawl around her shoulders. Where was Mr. Edwards?

She twisted the knob to the lighthouse door. It turned, but stuck. Glancing up, she noticed rust on the hinges. Leaning her shoulder against the door, she pushed it open. Built in the early 1800's, the lighthouse captured the ambience of the past, standing proud against the Maine coastline.

"Mr. Edwards?" Her voice rattled throughout the lighthouse. Audrina tucked a stray tendril of her auburn hair behind her ear, pausing near the entrance. He had to be here. Her aunt's diary related that he rarely ventured from the antiquated lighthouse. Fishermen and cruise liners depended on the light and audible signals from this building – especially when the weather became foggy.

Looking around, she spied a set of metallic steps in the middle of the building which led up to the Frenzel lens and fog signal. Across the entrance, to the right, was another door partially opened.

The autumn wind whipped around the windows, making a high pitched whistle. A wave of uncertainty coursed through her bones. Was Mr. Edwards in that room? What would she find? She crossed the floor, hesitating next to the opening. Oh, she was being ridiculous. What did she expect to find? A ghost?

Audrina eased the door open, revealing a compact room. A single bed rested next to the curved wall. A young man lay clasping a picture frame next to his chest.

She ran to his side. Sweat dripped down his temples. Gently, she removed the frame, putting it on the nightstand, and placed her hand on his forehead. Hot. He had a fever. How long had he been sick?

"Mr. Edwards?" She shook his shoulders.

The young man's lids snapped open, but his eyes were glazed over from fever. "Esther?"

"No, I'm Audrina, Esther's niece. You're sick."

"Esther – where's Esther?"

"She passed away two weeks ago."

"No." The man's voice faded away. Had he lost hope? Her heart went out to him. She squeezed one of his hands between hers, studying him. His hair was thick and curly, framing his ruggedly handsome face. His square jaw and broad shoulders exuded a raw masculinity and vitality, despite his fever. Audrina found him appealing. Despite his illness, his muscles were hard. Stubble grew around his chin. God, there was no denying the attractiveness of his feral looks.

Departing the room, she discovered a kitchen, but the food was bad. She needed to make a trip to the grocery store. She also needed to treat the fever. Turning her attention to the sink, she found a washrag and dampened it. Who knew how long he'd been ill. She returned to his bedside and wiped the rag over his face.

"I think I should call for the paramedics."

"No!" His eyes snapped open, fierce and adamant none be spent. His voice was rough with anxiety.

"A paramedic can treat you better than I—"

"No. I don't want doctors. I hate them. None of them can help me."

Audrina crossed her arms. Her expression stilled and grew serious. Mixed feelings surged within her. He had to know that a doctor could help him. Why didn't he want to see one? What was he hiding? Should she be worried?

He opened his eyes, staring at her. She couldn't look away, spellbound by his expression. He possessed such unusual eyes – deep malachite green surrounded by a golden ring hugging his irises.

"No…you're not Esther. You smell different. Perfect," he rasped.

His comment raised her curiosity, but she ignored it for now. "I'm Audrina."

"Esther's dead, you said?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Why did you come?"

"She left me her manor in her will. I arrived a few days ago, but only found her diary today."

He struggled to sit up in the bed, his expression a mix of pain and pleasant surprise. "You're beautiful."

"Mr.—"

"My name is Damian."

"Damian." She squeezed his hand again. "Lie back down. I'll return shortly."

He returned the pressure from her grasp, then collapsed onto the bed. "Please…"

"I promise." Audrina stood.

He nodded and closed his eyes.



Audrina drove her car up the dirt access road and parked next to the lighthouse. Twilight darkened the clouds over the ocean, casting deep orange and red shadows over the horizon. A waxing gibbous moon crested over the stormy waves. She hadn't explored her aunt's manor to the extent she would have liked, and had only partially read her aunt's diary – specifically the last couple of pages which expressed concern for Mr. Edwards – Damian.

Her aunt knew she was dying, she had cancer, but she believed Mr. Edwards would become inconsolable and possibly lose his mind if she revealed the nature of her illness and therefore she hadn't confided in him. Audrina believed her aunt didn't want to break Damian's heart. What Audrina found odd was that Damian was a young man. Her aunt was eighty-two when she passed.
Grabbing her bag with the food and medication, she walked through the brisk New England chill and entered the lighthouse. Quickly, she prepared a bowl of soup and a light meal.

Damian still lay in the bed, clutching the washcloth. God, he looked so vulnerable – and oh, so handsome. Her heart constricted in her chest.

"Damian?"

He mustered a smile. "You returned." His voice ached with longing.

"Take these." She handed him some antibiotics she hadn't used from a recent prescription and a glass of water. He swallowed them and sat up. Audrina spoon fed him the soup. He ate the crackers, never taking his eyes off her.

"Thank you. I was hungry."

"You need to rest."

"I'm cold, then hot, then cold."

"It's the fever. Do you have any extra blankets?"

"No. Can you lay beside me?" His gaze fell to the creamy expanse of her neck.

Audrina bit her lower lip with her teeth. Her heart ached under her breast. His eyes mesmerized her. Something intense flared between them – a spark. Desire? Mutual attraction? Fascination? His eyes drew her to him, despite only having just met him.
She said nothing, but lay down next to him, resting her head against his chest.

He kissed her temple. "Thank you."

Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.


The rain struck the window in a rhythmic fashion, waking Audrina. She left the bed, found a candle on the nightstand, and lit it. The inky shadows faded away and the candle cast a soft light over the bed. The picture frame she'd taken from his hand earlier rested next to the pewter candleholder. Curious, she picked it up and turned it over.

The photo was black and white. Damian appeared the same with a head full of curls. A vibrant grin curved his lips. He stood next to a young woman who possessed long brown hair and a passionate smile. Audrina wrinkled her brow, confused. From the clothes she would date the photo in the late forties or early fifties. Who was the woman? Why did her features look familiar?

"Audrina?"

She clutched the frame to her breast and looked at Damian, uncertainty splayed across her face. Who was he?

He pointed toward the picture. "That's Esther and I years ago. I loved her very much, but…" his voice trailed off.

"But what?"

"She didn't want to be my lover, choosing to remain my friend."

"Lover?" Audrina arched an eyebrow.

Damian stood and held out his hand. "I've lived for over one hundred and fifty years, but Esther's loss almost destroyed me."
The flame flickered, casting stark eerie shadows over his cheekbones, giving him a feral appearance.

"What are you?"

He snared her eyes with his intense gaze. "I am a werewolf. Stay with me."

Attraction tumbled next to apprehension. "Why?"

"Because you feel the attraction between us, like I do." He paused. "I've been waiting lifetimes for you. I thought Esther might be my mate, but she was not."

"I don't understand."

"Esther's scent was close, but you, your scent, it's driving me wild, giving me hope. No one else has ever made me feel like this. You're my soulmate. Please stay."

Audrina couldn't deny the ache that thrummed throughout her body, despite the tension that coursed through her. What should she do? Dare she believe his claim? After several long minutes, she remained in her seat.

Word Count: 1376


FIND ME ON THE WEB AT:
WEBSITE:
http://www.stephanieburkhart.com

TWITTER:
http://twitter.com/StephBurkhart

FACEBOOK:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Burkhart-Author/149938795021166

GOOD READS:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4031660.Stephanie_Burkhart

Christmas in July - Visit Bayeux with Stephanie Burkhart

Hi all - my Christmas in July release with Victory Tales Press is "Christmas in Bayeux," an international contemporary. Aiden Seward lost his parents to a traffic accident while serving in Iraq. Now out of the Army, he visits Bayeux, France and meets with his old friend, Noel. Can Noel help heal his wounded heart?

I grew up in Manchester, NH. Manchester is the second largest French speaking city in the US and I took 3 years high school French. I love the language and in my studies, I grew to love the nation. France was the perfect setting for my story. I've been to Paris several times. I also visited Lembach, France in 1988 and that experience has been with me throughout the years. My experiences in Lembach made their way into the story.

Lembach is a small town in the Alsace-Lorraine region of France just over the German/French border. I was dispatched along with a fellow soldier, Private East to pick up a squad of soldiers in Pirmasens, Germany. East and I took a detour and ended up in Lembach.

Needless to say, we were an odd sight, walking around the town in our US Army military uniforms. The locals stared at us – hard. As we walked around the small town square an older man approached us. He spoke no English. I had my "French for Travelers" guide and my pronunciation was decent so I engaged him. He enthusiastically shook our hands. "Américains?" "Oui," I answered. He proceeded to thank East and I not only for our service, but also for the service of our grandfathers who liberated France from Germany.

It was a moving experience that humbled both of us.

It was lunchtime and East and I went to the local café for lunch. With my trusty "French for Travelers," I ordered our food – salad and sandwiches. We were quite the attraction in the café. Patrons stared at us. In fact, several of them approached us while we ate and thanked us. Before we left, the manager came to us. He told us our meal was free.

East and I wouldn't have it. We had francs for the occasion. Between the manager's English and my French, I learned the residents of the town loved Americans. In World War II, we had indeed liberated them from Germany's occupation. We were still heroes to them – 40 years later.

East and I were truly humbled by how the town embraced us. As we made our way back to our military van, we thanked God for this rare opportunity to visit France.

This experience found it's way into my story. Enjoy the excerpt:

She pushed two wooden double doors open and they walked into a wide open-spaced entrance hall. "Is this a museum?"

"Oui. It houses our best known prize – the Bayeux Tapestry."

"What is that?" His voice was laced in curiosity.

"Dix Euros," said the clerk. He was in his mid-thirties and wore a blue uniform.

Aiden put his hand over Noel's hand as she reached for her purse. "I'll get it."

"Vous êtes Américain?"
"Oui," said Aiden.

The clerk held out his hand. Aiden slowly took it, surprised by the gesture. What was he doing?

"Américains we like. World War II, yes? Merci – thank you," the clerk said in halting English.

Aiden was stunned. Noel said this occurred, but he didn't think it would happen to him.

"De Rein. Thank you, sir."

"Non, Monsieur, merci. Keep your money."

"Oh, I insist."
"Oui, thank you, merci."

Noel smiled at the clerk, thread her arm through Aiden's, and they walked into the museum. There were a few people milling about in the halls, but it wasn't as busy as he thought it would be. Maybe everyone was at the Christmas markets.

He paused before they got far. "You said—"

She gave him an easy smile. "You handled that well."

****

Vist the book teaser on You Tube and feel free to give it a "like." LINK: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-muZ0dhOvSE

BUY LINK ON AMAZON:http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-in-Bayeux-ebook/dp/B005BTLSI8/

BUY LINK ON SMASHWORDS:https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/72100

GIVEAWAY: Leave a comment about the story, the book trailer, Bayeux, or anything to do with Christmas. I'll pick a name out of hat on 19 JUL. Winner will receive a $5.00 to Amazon.



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:I was born and raised in Manchester, NH. When I was 18, this New England Patriot fan joined the US Army for a great adventure and spent 7 years overseas in Germany. I met a fair-haired California boy and we were married in Denmark in 1991. Little odd fact: I was stationed in Muenster, Germany in 1987 when Pope John Paul II visited that city.. Now, the adventure over, I work for LAPD as a 911 Operator.

The Wolf's Torment Tour - Exploring Humanity

"Take The Journey" – Exploring Humanity
by: Stephanie Burkhart

My latest release is "The Wolf's Torment," a paranormal romance set in the 1860's in the Romanian principality of Moldavia. It has witches, werewolves, and a couple of other creatures of the night. Crown Prince Mihai Sigmaringen is a witch. Can he save his family from a deadly werewolf?

As a young girl growing up on the gothic romances of Victoria Holt, I had a natural predisposition toward the unknown – the supernatural. I loved Holt's spooky mansions, secrets, and dark, haunting ambience. But most gothic events have their unexplainable events rooted in a natural cause. With a paranormal romance, the unexplainable has a very unnatural cause. That's one of the attractions to me – to explore the unexplainable. There are witches, werewolves, vampires, etc., all fantastical creatures, but it’s the traits and qualities which makes these creatures "human" that I like to explore.

In "The Wolf's Torment," my hero, Mihai Sigmaringen, has to come to terms with being a witch. He has to accept who he is – a very human concept many can identify with.

A werewolf bites Mihai's best friend, Viktor Bacau. Viktor is a good, honest man now driven by demons that threaten to destroy his world. While Viktor's demon is quite literal – a wolf – most can equate that with more modern demons. For example, drugs. Viktor's demon is an inner one. Drugs, also is similar. Both are gradual, but over time, marked.

Mihai and Viktor are best friends, but do their inner torments drive them apart or does their humanity solidify their bond? Next to Mihai's story, Viktor's story and his struggle with his feral nature will resonate with readers.

Paul Walker, inspiration for the character of "Viktor."


Enjoy this excerpt:

Viktor led his horse into the stables, glad to be done with his trip to Mulfaltar. A stable boy took the animal's reins, and Viktor made his way toward the closest entrance. He felt sated in an odd way. Sated, yet the goose bumps pricked his arms.

He inhaled deeply, finding comfort in the familiar salty scent of the Black Sea. This was his home, and more than anything, he would fight for it -- and his wife. He was a man, not a beast, and determined to show an iron will when it came to his control over his feral nature.

Viktor glanced toward the shore. Only one royal yacht was moored. Mihai must be on his honeymoon. There was work to be done, and the sooner Viktor got involved, the better.

He walked into the rear entrance and into the kitchen. Miss Pompeli hovered over the stove stirring a stockpot.

"Lord Bacau! What a pleasant surprise."

He smiled. "It smells wonderful. What are you cooking?"

"A simple chicken stew. It seems to help the king."

"How is my wife?"

"She's havin' a good day, my Lord."

"And the king?"

"He's been coughin' up blood again, but he won't take the laudanum. Says he wants his wits about him for the railroad business."

Viktor hesitated. He wanted to bathe, but perhaps he should check on the king first.

"Thank you, Daciana. I look forward to dinner."

She nodded. Viktor departed and made his way toward the king's study. He heard Sonia's father coughing just as he got to the door and Viktor paused, drawing in a deep breath. The king reminded him of his own father, gracious and accommodating. He treated Viktor as if Viktor were his own son and had wholeheartedly approved of his marriage to Sonia. Viktor was resolved not to let the king down. He knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Viktor walked in. The king stood in front of a map, his arms crossed. He smiled when he saw Viktor.

"It's good to have you back, Son."

"It's good to be back."

"How is your family?"

"Well." Viktor hated lying to the king. He couldn't be told the truth of Viktor's condition, so he had been told that Viktor went to visit his family in the Ukraine.

"What are you looking at?" asked Viktor.

"This is a proposed route of the railroad. There is a matter of a small hill. They can set the track around the hill or blast through it. By going around the hill, it will add fifteen minutes to the travel time. To blast and clear the hill puts the project's finish in October."

"Is October feasible?"

"It will be close. The ground starts to frost over toward the end of the month."

Viktor rubbed his chin with a finger. He liked the idea of blasting and clearing the hill for the quicker route.

"Well, what say you?" asked the king.

"Go through the hill."

The king chuckled. "Yes, that's what I was thinking as well -- but it will be up to you and Mihai to see to it the work is done in time."

Viktor arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It won't be much longer, Son. I have weeks to live, if that."

Viktor swallowed, tucking his hands under his armpits. Everyone respected the king, despite his gruff ways. He'd done much good for the principality, his main accomplishment being the construction of the docks in Constanta, making the city a viable seaport and bringing more trade to the Romanian principalities.

"Son, I think you're going to miss me."

"Yes. So will Sonia and Mihai."

The king gestured toward his drinking cabinet. Viktor accompanied him and the king poured them each some brandy. "I've got regrets, Boy." The king paused, then sat down in the chair across from the sofa.

Viktor sat on the sofa.

"I loved my wife and when I see Sonia look at you, I know she's found that same feeling." Again, the king the paused and drew in a breath that rattled his lungs. "Don't be foolish with my daughter's heart."

Visit the Book Trailer on You Tube and give it a 'like' at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzHE2spBeeU

The Wolf's Torment is available as an ebook only on Kindle, Nook, Kobo, and Sony Ereader. Formats include: PDF, html, and epub which can be found on the Publisher's Website at: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-163/Stephanie-Burkhart-Moldavian-Moon/Detail.bok



About the Author: Stephanie Burkhart is a 911 dispatcher for LAPD. She also served as an MP in the US Army. Multi-published, she has a children's book, "The Giving Meadow" with 4RV Publishing. She's an avid reader , loves coffee in the morning, and her favorite movie "werewolf" is David Thewlis, Lupin from Harry Potter.

You can find me at:
Website:
http://www.stephanieburkhart.com
Blog:
http://sgcardin.blogspot.com
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Stephanie-Burkhart-Author/149938795021166
Tweet me at:
http://twitter.com/StephBurkhart

Charles d'Orleans, The Romantic Duke

By: Stephanie Burkhart

One of the earliest Valentine's ever wrote for which we still have a record of was by the Duke of Orléans, Charles Valois. His story is one that touches my heart and his poetry is very moving.

Charles was born in Paris in November 1394 and became the Duke when his father, Louis, was murdered on the orders of John, Duke of Burgundy, a rival nobleman.

Charles is best remembered as a poet, writing over 500 poems. Most of these were written when he was a prisoner of war.

Charles was 14 when his father passed and he became the Duke. He was young and impressionable, and fell under his father-in-law's influence, the Count of Armagnac.

Charles's first wife was Isabella of Valois (a daughter of French King Charles VI) He loved her dearly, but she died in childbirth. In 1410, he married Bonnie d'Armagnac, Count d'Armagnac's daughter.

In 1415, Charles was taken a prisoner of war in the Battle of Agincourt. He was 21. Henry V of England took him to the Tower of London were Charles composed most of his poetry. Charles was in captivity for over 24 years (he was in the line for the French throne and England didn't want to give him up.) With nothing better to do, Charles wrote.

Most of his poetry was for his wife, Bonnie, but she died before he was released. He was let out in 1440 at the age of 46 and married a third time. His son from his third marriage, became Louis XII. His poems are mostly French Rondeaus, a two line rhythm and are usually about love and the spring time.

Charles's Valentine in the original French:

Je suis desja d'amour tanné,
Ma tres doulce Valentinée

Rondeau VI, lines 1-2.

Here's another of Charles' poem in English:

(To his Mistress, to succor his heart that is beleaguered by jealousy)

Strengthen, my Love, this castle of my heart,
And with some store of pleasure give me aid,
For Jealousy, with all them of his part,
Strong siege about the weary tower has laid.

Nay, if to break his bands thou art afraid,
Too weak to make his cruel force depart,
Strengthen at least this castle of my heart,
And with some store of pleasure give me aid.

Nay, let not Jealousy, for all his art
Be master, and the tower in ruin laid,
That still, ah Love! Thy gracious rule obeyed.

Advance, and give me succor of they part;
Strengthen, my Love, this castle of my heart.


Enjoy your Valentine's Day weekend!

What's Happily Ever After without strawberries? Red, sweet, succulent, lick-your- lips juicy berries are the best way to top off a rewarding romance. Strawberries and the happily ever after blog are a match made in food heaven.

So where do all those strawberries come from? The California Strawberry Festival! No, I'm serious... (Steph's Muse, Juliet, suspiciously eyes her author.) The California Strawberry Festival is stuffed to the bushels with strawberries. You can find these overflowing baskets in Oxnard, California near the coast in Ventura County. Ventura County is very agricultural and home to some of the state's largest strawberry farms. This year, the festival's 27th celebration will be held on May 15th and 16th.

There's all kinds of juicy fun at the festival. My muse, Juliet, loves to flitter around the arts and crafts section looking for candles, homemade bath bubbles, and hand made jewelry. Um, I wonder what she has in mind?

My husband, Brent, usually grabs a mug of strawberry beer and a bundle of hay in the live band section. His favorite is the Van Halen cover band. (He's stuck in the 80's just like me, but is afraid to admit it.)

I usually snatch up the boys and go trolling the snack section. We all share a plate of strawberry nachos, a couple of chocolate strawberries and a plastic cup or two of strawberry smoothies. Let me tell you, the best kiss I ever got was from my 3 year old when his little red lips were wet with strawberry smoothie. (It was also the messiest!)

As the boys and I are savoring our chocolate covered delight, my husband goes on the hunt for food like the mighty hunter he is. When he finally finds us, he usually has a plate of garlic fries, strawberry pizza, grilled corn and a couple of tacos. Just looking at his plate packs on five pounds. No wonder Juliet hangs out at the arts & crafts.

When Brent finally consumes that last fry, we head on over to "Strawberryland" so the boys can get on a couple of rides. Juliet usually hooks up with us after her shopping spree. Brent gets stuck with the bags while her and I hang out with our childhood idol – Strawberry Shortcake. Andrew won't pose with her, though. He says, "Aw, Mom, she's a giiiirl..."

Before we go, I have to troll the souvenir stand. After all, I want something to remind me of all the fun I had. A perishable little juicy fruit is here today, gone tomorrow.

The festival posters are my favorite souvenir. They're red, but without a mess. I slap a frame on that poster and I have wall decoration for Juliet's bathroom.
On the way out, Juliet tries to sneak in a bite sized shortcake with berries, but she never fools me. She always forgets the whipped cream on her nose.
Hey, What's a happening without a couple of strawberries to top it off? Didn't Pretty Woman have a couple of strawberries at the end? Thanks for letting me visit Happily Ever After.

Here's a recipe for Strawberry Pizza: (taken from the Official California Strawberry Festival Website)

OXNARD STRAWBERRY PIZZA

Every year, the longest line at the California Strawberry Festival non-profit food booths is the one for the Rio Mesa High School Strawberry Pizza. That pizza recipe is a coveted secret, but here is a great substitute courtesy of a proud Rio Mesa alum:

• 1 quart fresh, ripe California strawberries, sliced
• 8 oz. Strawberry preserves
• 8 oz. Cream cheese, softened
• 1/4 cup water
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
• 1 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/2 cup crushed pecans
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla
• 1/2 cup sugar
• Cointreau liqueur, optional
• 1 package yellow cake mix

In a large mixing bowl, combine the yellow cake mix, water, eggs, brown sugar, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon and pecans. Mix well. Divide mixture between two foil lined pizza pans, pressing to form a crust. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Let stand until cool and separate crusts from foil. Combine cream cheese, vanilla, sugar and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon. Using an electric mixer, beat until creamy. Spread mixture on cool crusts. Arrange strawberries on cream cheese layer. Warm preserves in a saucepan. Add enough Cointreau to thin to desired consistency and pour over berries. Serves 12.

For more delicious strawberry recipes, purchase the California Strawberry Festival Collector Recipe book, available Festival weekend at the souvenir tent. Link to the California Strawberry Festival page: http://www.strawberry-fest.org/

My short story, "Matchmaking Amusements" features a strawberry or two. You can find it in the "Be Mused" Anthology out with Desert Breeze Publishing. Here's a link: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-73/Be-Mused--dsh--%3Ci%3EAn/Detail.bok. Amazon for Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Be-Mused-Muse-ing-Anthology-ebook/dp/B003EV5SWM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271718486&sr=8-1

Stephanie Burkhart

Exploring the Paranormal

I love popping into the "Happily Ever After Blog." It's topical, fun, and I enjoy branching out and meeting new people. Since I have a new release out with Desert Breeze Publishing in May 2010 which deals with paranormal themes, I thought I'd share my thoughts on the paranormal.

One romantic sub-genre that's really popular right now is the paranormal. You can have all kinds of fun with the paranormal. You can play in the darkness with vampires, have fun in the sun with werewolves, and travel back through time.

What I love about the paranormal is that it's very versatile. You can set your story in the past, present, or future. You can also go to exotic locales. My favorite is Eastern Europe, deep in the heart of old world paranormal myths.

My latest story is about a werewolf. Set in 1901, the first half of the story takes place in England, the second half in Budapest, Hungary. Count Matthias Duma harbors a dark secret, but when he meets the beautiful Katherine Archibald, he risks everything for her love.

Of course, Matthias's secret is that he's a werewolf. How do you tell the woman you love you're…that? *yikes!*

While more paranormal literature is beginning to explore shape shifters and werewolves, I picked werewolves because unlike the vampire, they aren't "undead" – they're alive and so deliciously human. And telling a good story is all about taping into the human condition.

Most myths about werewolves include longevity in life, they're poisoned by silver, and they turn into wolves during the full moon. But how long does a full moon last? Two? Three days? If a lunar cycle is 28 days then the wolf is a man for 26 days – and it's the psyche of the man that is the wolf which appeals to me as a writer.

How does the man deal with being a wolf? Does he hide away from the world? Does he have a friend or two who understands his condition, willing to help him? Does he bear his curse with a certain nobility? Dare the man who is a wolf fall in love? Is he entitled to happy every after? I'd like to think so.

In my novel, "The Hungarian," my hero, Matthias, struggles with all these issues. That's what made writing "The Hungarian" so much fun.

Here's a small excerpt:

She caught his lips with hers. He responded in kind, wrapping his rugged arms around her, holding her tight. They kissed for the longest time, their lips deepening the kisses between them until their tongues began to mingle against each other, yearning with the sensual heat of desire. Katherine felt a deep physical agitation pooling inside her. His full lips tasted sweet, like a sinful treat she could easily become addicted to.

Then, with an abruptness she hadn't expected, he put his hands on her shoulders and broke the kiss with a jerk. "Katherine, do you realize what you're doing?"

"Tell me."
He cupped her cheek, looking at her with a deep intensity that burrowed into her soul. "It's too soon," he whispered.

"Too soon for what?"
"Don't I scare you? The way I look?"
"No."
"My scar? My eyes?"
"Not in the least."

"It doesn't bother you I'm a widower? That the Ashtons are openly seeking to prove me a poor parent so they can take my daughter away from me?"

"No." None of what he'd mentioned bothered her. From what she had observed he was honorable, exuding more nobility than the Ashtons ever would.

Matthias tore himself away from her and left the gazebo. He took long, quick wolverine-like strides toward the roses.

"What are you doing?"

He plucked a rose from a bush without any hesitation and held it up to her. "I love roses, Katherine. They're very soothing to me when I'm alone late at night, trapped by the moon. I want you to have this one. I am not an ordinary courtier, Katherine. I would not woo you with British practicality, but in ways that are foreign to you―"

"What are you saying?"

"If you think you are strong enough, if you think you can endure the summer's challenges, if you think you could find a life with me, then send this rose back in a week's time and I will ask Lord Archibald his permission to court you."

"The Hungarian" will be available 1 May through Desert Breeze Publishing and on Amazon for Kindle.

Here's a link to the book's trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZwaF8hAdow.

I'll be offering autographed postcards with "The Hungarian's" cover on it. To win, post a comment and I'll draw two winners name out of a hat which I'll announce at the end of the day.

Beware. The wolf is coming.
Smiles & Fangs
Stephanie Burkhart

Inspired by Spring

I'm very excited to be here. This is a blog I enjoy following because it's very topical and always has interesting ideas that inspire.

Spring is in the air. California poppies are popping up all around the countryside here in Southern California. In my backyard, my lilac bush is sprouting leaves. Last year, it didn't bloom so I'm happy to report I see some flower buds. Just last week, my husband planted tomatoes, marigolds, and a lime plant with the boys. The winter doldrums are just an echo as an occasional day of bad weather haunts us.

Spring is fresh. It's new. It's vibrant. It inspires.

That's what I'm here to talk about – the inspiration of spring. With new and fresh life all around us, especially in our blooming plants and trees, new ideas generally tickle the muse and our muses generally tickle us.

Who hasn't had a fresh idea with the oncoming of spring – or a new idea for a romance, or a blast of fresh inspiration for the direction of a story?


It's intangible, yet right now, we're more susceptible to feel the passion of inspiration. Inspiration is all around us. Isn't a blossoming flower garden romantic? The warming weather?

Don't lose touch with your inner muse; your inspiration. If you feel your muse has taken a vacation, tap into the inspiration of spring. It's an invigorating feeling.

Just recently I had a chance to write about muses and inspiration for the Be Mused Anthology, released through Desert Breeze. In my story, "Matchmaking Amusements" Isolde, the muse, takes a vacation – but after her writer, Jane, finishes her novel. Isolde goes to Berchtesgaden, Germany in the heart of the Obersalzburg Mountains and meets a male muse, Tristan. Surrounded by warm weather, fresh cut grass, clear blue lakes, and the smells of warm apple tarts, Isolde and Tristan can't help but fall in love.

Spring into inspiration with your muse, and thanks for having me today.

"Be Mused," an a-muse-ing anthology is now available through Desert Breeze Publishing at: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-73/Be-Mused--dsh--%3Ci%3EAn/Detail.bok

Here's a link to my book teaser for "Matchmaking Amusements:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxZASQSddfM

Stephanie Burkhart