Sunday, November 30, 2014

Amazon Keywords

Hi all,

Here is the keyword 'Cornwall' for Sam and the Beast of Bodmin Moor. It currently sit at  page 58 of 60 pages, so as you can imagine, no one will find it.

I'm going to ask you all a big favor. Here is the link to Sam and the Beast of Bodmin Moor. Can everyone click on the link then click on the book. Take a look, have a read if you wish, but that is all I'm asking then we can see if it rises up the Amazon search engine. If it works for me, it will work for you.

If you do this for me, I'll reciprocate.



M. P. Ward

P.S. This link has been put through to shorten the link. I tried it from Twitter and it works okay from there at least.

Sunday Musings: November 30 2014

Hello, Musers!

To our US Muser Family, Happy Thanksgiving weekend. Hope you've had and are having a great time.

Being Canadian, I celebrate Thanksgiving in October, but the one thing we have in common is a sense of giving thanks during this time. As writers one of the major aspects of our careers are our readers. With that in mind...

...what do our reader responses mean to us?

 For me readers response is VERY important. Even you don't agree, the fact that anybody took the time out of a busy life to bother answering is one big compliment.  I love hearing from readers.

Reader response is the best feedback I can get. Some readers leave a short review, just expressing what the book mean to them. Others are more detailed, going into which characters interested them most and how they felt about the scenes. At other times, criticism has helped me improve my next book. Without readers, our books would languish without anyone but us to enjoy them, so I think appealing to readers is the most important thing to do.

Reader responses mean everything to me. I love it when people tell me that they enjoyed my book/books. Personal enjoyment and satisfaction and readers responses are the greatest rewards that I get from writing.


To me, it's nourishment...even the "bad," because without knowing what's not working, how can I fix it? Also, what Jean said: it's great that someone took the time out of their busy schedule to a) read my book and b) comment on it. Readers make this whole crazy process more worthwhile than if I were just writing for myself, and hearing from them always makes my day!

I treasure reader responses and always answer every comment and question I receive. Some individuals ask for considerable detail and raise significant points that lead to a series of complex communications. I have included some suggestions in the later volumes of my series.

That a person reads my work and thinks enough of it to contact me about it is a great honor. I hope I shall continue to be worthy of it.

DAWN KNOX, author

So far, I've only had good reviews for 'Daffodil and the Thin Place'. All the responses have all been unsolicited, so I've been thrilled.
I get a bit embarrassed if people tell me face to face but I still really appreciate it. I can't bring myself to ask anyone what they think of the book as I always assume if they like it they'll tell me and if they don't they'll keep quiet. However, I'm prepared for people to respond negatively at some point and I tell myself that it's just a matter of taste and if someone doesn't like my book, that's fine, but when it happens, I know I will be hurt.

On 6th December, the first script that I've ever written for a dramatisation  will be performed and I imagine that I will be able to see people's responses in their faces! That's going to be interesting!

Thanks for joining us and see you next week!
 If you have a question or comment you’d like us to muse upon, do not hesitate to contact me Christine Steeves-Speakman  at

Friday, November 28, 2014

Special Offer Five Days Only. 5 Traditional Historical Novels in 1 Romance Bundle

  • Special Offer


5 historical novels in 1 Romance Bundle by Rosemary Morris.


1,313 pages.


Special offer.  $4.99  (£3.23)

Full price $29.75

Discount $24.76




The bundle will be available from the 28th November, 2014 to the 2nd December, 2014


Available from  nook and all reputable vendors.


False Pretences.  Annabelle runs away from school into the arms of a charismatic gentleman…but can she trust him to help her?


Far Beyond Rubies  When their eyes first meet, Gervaise’s soul recognises Juliana’s and from that moment on, their destinies become inevitably entwined.


Sunday’s Child  If Major Tarrant expects Sunday’s Child, a Regency lady, to be a ‘bread and butter’ Miss he will be surprised.


Tangled Love  The throne has been usurped by James II’s daughter and son-in-law, Mary and William of Orange. In 1693, loyal to his oath of allegiance, ten year-old Richelda’s father must follow James to France.


The Captain and The Countess.  His heart captured by the Countess only Captain Howard sees pain behind her fashionable fa├žade and is determined to help her.



Too view the book trailers, read the first three chapters of each novel and reviews please visit





Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Historical Accuracy

This method might be of interest to readers and writers.

I've reached a complicated chapter in my novel in which I need the geographical features, proposed plans and timeline to be correct. I read the relevant parts of five historical non-fiction books and made notes, but I still didn't have a clear picture in my head. So, after considerable thought, I wrote chapter headings and typed up the relevant information under each titl3. Next I made a list of things my protagonists would do, and their reactions to events as they occurred in sequence, in each chapter and finished by typing up a few quotes from historical personages.

For the last three days I've been working on Chapter Thirty-One. Thanks to my notes everything, as the saying goes, has fallen into place.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Sunday Musings: November 23 2014

Miss One Sunday and Pepper-kitten takes over

Hey, hey, there Muser Friends and Family!

Sorry for missing you last week, but the bronchitis plague hit my household and knocked all three adults out for the count. Yup, flat out on our butts with only the tween healthy and active. Can't say we're all bouncing back in perfect health, but at least I can see straight again.

So, last week's musings is this week's musings and next will be this...uhm, yeah, let's just forget all that and go for this writing exercise:

Describe a non-descript street, building, person, or meal.

We'll title this one...make the boring worth reading

On your mark, get set, go.............

The stone buildings, grayed with the grime of fifty years, hung over the narrow sidewalk. The sky held the last of the light as a stray ray of sunshine slanted through a gap in the wall of buildings. Through the opening, Lydia spied a courtyard. She stopped to stare at the bright red and blue striped umbrella which shaded a redwood picnic table flanked by two benches.

What was it doing here? Yesterday when she'd passed by on her way home from work the courtyard had been empty. She move closer to get a better view. On the ground, a heap of broken dishes and the remains of several sandwiches already being fought over by a flock of pigeons.

And a body. If Lydia wasn't mistaken, a dead body. What should she do now?

DAWN KNOX, author

Swirls of yellow grease trailed behind Jenny’s spoon as she trawled through the lamb stew, searching for something that looked vaguely edible.

“Stop playing with your food, Child!” snapped Aunt Sophie, “hasn’t your mother ever told you it’s bad manners?”

“Sorry, Aunt. I’m not feeling too well…” said Jenny, hopeful that she’d be excused.

“Well, eat up. There’s nothing of you, Child. No wonder you’re so peaky.”

Jenny sighed. There would be no escape from the lamb stew.

Lamb spew, she thought with disgust.

When Mother had delivered her at Aunt Sophie’s an hour ago, the house was redolent with the smell of cooking. Not like the delicious aromas that filled Mother’s kitchen. No, this was the stink of cheap ingredients being boiled to oblivion - and beyond.

“I’ll be as fast as I can,” Mother had whispered when she kissed Jenny goodbye.

Hurry up, please! thought Jenny.

A piece of potato stood above the gravy, like a volcano rising out of the sea. She couldn’t imagine how it had retained its shape after being stewed to submission. Certainly most of the other vegetables had turned to an unrecognisable mush - their colour and consistency having leached away. Jenny fished out the potato lump and held it against the side of the bowl to allow the grease to slide back into the gravy. She placed it gingerly in her mouth where it spontaneously collapsed to an oily, texture-less sludge and she swallowed quickly, fighting the urge to gag.

The more she moved her spoon through the gravy, the more the vegetables disintegrated into an amorphous, grey slop. She hadn’t considered the similarity between the two words ‘Grey’ and ‘Gravy’ before, but now, she stared into the ‘Grey-vy’, wondering how much longer she could just move it about before Aunt Sophie got cross.

A piece of meat bobbed to the surface and Jenny scooped it up in her spoon. Like the gravy, it too, was grey, with a knobbly vein of gristle running through it and she buried it quickly beneath the sludge.

“Come on, Child. What is the matter with you? There’ll be no dessert unless you eat up every scrap of your lunch.”

Well, there was a silver lining, Jenny decided. At least she wouldn’t have to eat the glutinous, frog spawn-like tapioca pudding she spotted earlier in the kitchen.

It was a miserable day for dog-walkers. The sky was a massive stretch of motionless grey clouds. The fall leaves were dull yellow and splotched with black. The sidewalk and the sky might have been one and the same, and the only vibrancy was the contrast that a brick wall made with the drab world surrounding it. There was no wind, no motion, and the world might well have been a sigh frozen in space.

No one was out, that is, except for Henry. Henry, the dog who walked alone.

The knob rattled, and the hinges squealed when the door was opened, allowing daylight to creep across dusty, worn floorboards. A young couple stood in the doorway, the dust motes dancing in the must air making them sneeze. 

The young man stepped across the room, raised the blinds to let in more light, and the shadows retreated under the shabby couch where they lurked, waiting. To the right was a tiny kitchen and through the door on the left a small bedroom, leading to an even smaller bathroom.
He turned to the girl with hesitation. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect.” She smiled and linked her fingers through his. “Our first home.”

Thanks for joining us and see you next week!
 If you have a question or comment you’d like us to muse upon, do not hesitate to contact me Christine Steeves-Speakman  at