#EditingByAngels

  

Editing by Angels

Rogue’s Angels would like to help make the publishing process a little bit easier. We offer editing, proofreading, and covers at a reasonable price. 

Rogues Angels have years of editing experience, starting in the 90’s. Please check out resumes at the Rogue’s Angels blog: http://roguesangels.blogspot.com

Editing plus proofreading rates are:

$150 for under 50K words

$250 for 50K to 100K words

$350 for over 100K words.

Covers price varies. Once a cover is used it will not be used again. Check out pre-made covers at:

http://www.designsbymsg.com/SpreeSpecials.html and http://www.designsbymsg.com/FastTrackForSale.html

For more information contact Christine Young ~ achristay@aol.com

AVAILABLE  COVERS:

#St.Batzy&TheTimeMachine

 

St. Batzy and the Time Machine

Genie Gabriel

 

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 1

 

Buy at: Amazon

 

BLURB: St. Batzy and the Time Machine

 

A modern day castle in western Oregon. An eccentric inventor is determined to reclaim his wayward time machine and save his beloved wife from her latest misadventure. If only they can travel safely past the black hole…

 

 

EXCERPT: St. Batzy & The Time Machine

 

Horace Ainsworth patted the side of the giant red fire hydrant towering two stories above him then addressed the terrier mix dog staring at him curiously. "It's finished. Now don't you dig in my Maddie's roses any more or potty on the pansies."

 

Batzy stared at Horace's retreating back for a moment before he hiked his leg on the nearest flowering plant.

 

Then he turned his attention to the odd-looking structure the Big Human had erected. Not like any fire hydrant he'd ever sniffed. A canine would have to be the size of King Kong to give this thing a proper marking. 

 

Though it did smell like the water that sprayed out of the hose when the human across the street yelled at him. Batzy grinned and lifted his leg, imagining he was returning the spray of the yelling human. 

 

As he circled this mysterious structure, the smell of fresh paint and overturned earth drifted into his nostrils. It was bigger than the merry-go-round at the park where his human, Chloe, sometimes took him. 

 

Wonder what's inside?

 

Batzy scratched at the side of the structure then trotted another few steps and scratched again. About halfway around he found an opening. Not tall enough for the Big Human, but just about perfect for his little girl, Chloe.Batzy darted inside and lifted his face to sample the aromas. 

 

No scents of danger but much to explore. Like this box of dirt. Odd. Big humans usually didn't appreciate the joys of digging. Hadn't he just been told not to dig in the rose bushes? A sniff and a poke with his paw uncovered a bone. Fresh out of the package. Batzy looked around. What game was the Big Human playing? 

 

"Batzy!" his little girl was calling him. 

 

Batzy stepped out of the digging pit. Hmm. I smell peanut butter.

 

He put a front paw on a cabinetfor balance and nosed a button. A bone-shaped treat fell into a bowl below. Also fresh out of a package. The Big Human was definitely up to something. Batzy gobbled it down quickly before looking around again.

 

"Batzy!" 

 

Drat!He had to go. On his way out, Batzy stepped back into the digging box and snatched up the bone. Outside once again, he pushed the bone through the gap under the fence, and squeezed through after it. 

 

He popped up on the other side with only a few more streaks of mud on the white of his belly and wagged his tail at Chloe. He'd go back to explore the Big Human's structure later. 

 

~ * ~

 

Satisfied he had neutralized the threat to Maddie's rose bushes, Horace returned to the workshop in the basement of their castle-shaped home. In King Arthur's time, the sorcerer Merlin might have worked his magic in similar surroundings. Had Merlin simply been a scientist with an observing eye and a searching mind? 

 

That's how Horace saw himself: open to possibilities and what others might consider impossibilities. He loved to explore "what if" and took delight in disproving "facts." Edison did it with the light bulb. The Wright brothers did it with airplanes. Horace continued that tradition with a flying car and a robot that served dinner, as well as a play structure made out of a water tower and painted like a giant fire hydrant for the dog next door. After all, who said inventions had to be serious?

 

Horace scanned the stone walls lined with tables and shelves stacked with high-tech inventions and mechanical gadgets in various stages of development. What should he work on next?

 

He nearly set aside the recipe card propped on the computer keyboard, except he hadn't seen the word "urgent" on a recipe before. Horace realized it was a phone message from his cousin, Clement. "Will arrive tomorrow with submarine." 

 

Horace scratched his chin. What would his space engineer relative be doing with a submarine?

 

Suddenly, the alarm for the garages began wailing. A glance at the security monitor showed a truck pulling a trailer painted in vivid red and orange careening around the castle had clipped the gutter downspout and set off the alarm. 

 

A net dropped over the trailer, tangling in a wheel and jerking it sideways. Unfortunately, the truck continued its forward momentum until it also lurched to a stop, now sitting almost side by side with the trailer. 

 

If Horace didn't know his wife was safely painting in her studio, he would have sworn she was driving the truck. 

 

He hurried out of his workshop to be sure both truck and driver were okay. 

 

A tall, lanky man wearing a white shirt and black slacks jumped down from the driver's seat as the truck shuddered to a stop, grinning at Horace. "Hi, Cuz."

 

A frown creased Horace's forehead as he stared at the argyle suspenders that kept Clement Ainsworth's slacks pulled up into a permanent wedgie. The same suspenders Clement bragged had garnered him a date with the prettiest sorority girl at college some thirty-odd years ago. "But your message said you'd be here tomorrow."

 

Clement waved away Horace's confusion. "I called yesterday. You need a new secretary."

 

"My nephew took the message--"

 

"Like I said, you need a new secretary."

 

Horace made a mental note to come up with a more efficient way to deliver messages. "Why are you here? This doesn't look like a submarine."

 

Clement frowned. "Paperwork hold-up. But we can start work without it."

 

"Work on what?"

 

After a suspicious look around, Clement dropped his voice to a whisper. "A probe to explore black holes."

 

Horace also looked around, seeing nothing of danger except his cousin's lack of driving skills. "You mean black holes in space caused by stars burning out?"

 

"Well, that's the generally accepted theory."

 

"And do you have a probe in the trailer?"

 

"Nah. This is a mobile fabrication laboratory." Clement walked to the back of the trailer, stepping over the tangled netting that had captured one of the wheels. "This will make us a working prototype of the probe."

 

Horace stepped inside the trailer behind his cousin. "What is all this?"

 

"Laser cutter, CNC machine tools, robotic water jet, a rapid prototyping device--just to name a few. All run by cutting edge computer software."

 

Horace's hands tingled with the desire to pry open the metal casings on the equipment and see how the machines really worked. "Don't you make anything by hand?"

 

"You're still living in the dark ages, Horace." Clement laughed again. "No one makes things manually anymore."

 

Horace squared his shoulders, determined not to let his older, city slicker cousin make him feel inferior the way he had in college. "I do."

 

Clement's expression turned immediately apologetic, something Horace had rarely seen. "That's why I need you." 

 

With a deep breath and a frown, Clement looked Horace squarely in the eye. "You're the detail man. You make visions a reality. Others know the theories, but you know how to make them work."

 

"Um...right." Horace was still a bit off balance and definitely wary of his cousin's change in attitude. For the first time Horace could recall, Clement seemed to appreciate his skills rather than denigrating them. Surely Horace could give the man a chance to explain--and examine these intriguing machines--before Maddie threw Clement off their property. "Tell me what you have in mind."

 

"Saving the world."

 

#SkyEyes #historicalRomance

 

Title: Sky Eyes

Author: Sherry Derr-Wille

Genre: Romance/Suspense, Native American

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 2

 

Read First Chapter:

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble

 

 

TAGLINE

 

Sky Eyes world is turned upside down when she is forced to live in the white world as Kathryn Clay.

 

BLURB: Sky Eyes

 

When Sky Eyes learns she is white, her world is turned upside down. She is no longer welcomed in the Indian village where she was raised. Instead, her white uncle has found her and she must live in the white world as Kathryn Clay. When the facts surrounding her upbringing jeopardize her future in their midst, Kathryn runs away to begin a new life where no one will know of the people who raised her.

 

Lukas Palmer is intrigued by Kathryn’s beauty from the moment he first sees her. 

Even the journey east to bring friends and relatives to the wild Wisconsin territory didn’t quench his desire for her. 

 

REVIEW: Sky Eyes

 

Sky Eyes

By Sherry Der-Wille

Five Stars

Review by Greg Didaleusky

Sky Eyes by Sherry Derr-Wille takes the reader to Ninetieth Century Wisconsin. One of the protagonist is Sky Eyes, a blue-eyed white woman raised in an Indian village since birth. Her white mother died during Sky eyes birth. Morning Star, an Indian woman, renamed the baby, Kathryn Clay to Sky Eyes. She raised the infant in her Indian village. Midwifery, a mother's love, slavery, romance and a suspenseful climax is intertwined making the novel an extremely pleasant adventure.

The plot and subplots carries the reader's interest from chapter to chapter. The characters are realistic and believable. A well-written romance novel. As an author of mystery/suspense novels. I recommend Sky Eyes to all genre readers.. 

 

 

EXCERPT: Sky Eyes

 

Sky Eyes knew she was different from the other children in the village, different even from her brother, Otter Pup. The skin beneath her clothing was white rather than brown, her hair was not black, but brown with red streaks when the sun hit it right. The most important difference was the fact her eyes were the color of the sky, lending their color to her name. Although her friends noticed her differences, they never teased her about them. She was accepted for who and what she was.

When she was old enough to question the differences, her mother insisted her appearance was a gift from the Great Spirit. As a child, she accepted the explanation but as she became a woman, she wondered if there was something Morning Star wasn’t telling her.

“Sky,” her mother called. “I need your help.”

Sky set aside her thoughts about her differences and hurried to her mother’s side. From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of her brother. Otter was preparing to go hunting with their father. She wished she could go hunting rather than do the woman’s work her mother planned for her.

“What can I help you with, Mother?” she asked as soon as she stood beside her mother at the cooking fire.

“I would like you to come with me to the river. It is spring and I know there will be many plants for us to pick to enhance our meals and use in the midwives’ lodge. This is always my favorite time of the year. It was in the spring when both you and your brother were born.”

Sky never tired of hearing her mother tell of how she gave birth to two babies at the same time. It amazed her how her mother carried two children within her now slender body.

They walked in silence until they came to the river. “I brought you here for a special reason today. You have recently become a woman and soon some of the young men will begin to court you. I know there is one special young man who has already spoken to your father. Before the time comes, I must tell you about your birth.”

“I know how you carried Otter and me in your belly until it was time for us to be born. What else is there for me to know?”

“There is much,” Morning Star replied as she turned away from the river. “I did give birth to two babies, a boy and a girl. When they were six suns old, the spirit of death came and claimed my daughter. I still had Otter, but my heart was heavy. After your father buried the baby, we came to this area of the river to hunt for spring greens. We had just arrived when I heard the cries of a very young baby. Running Deer said not to investigate, but I could not help myself. What I found was a woman dying of childbirth fever. We were surprised because she was white but she spoke our language. She begged me to take her child and not to let her die. You are the baby I found in the cabin. I stayed with your mother until she drew her final breath.”

“Are you saying you are not my real mother?” Sky Eyes asked, hardly able to believe the story her mother just told her.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

 

At the age of fifteen, Sherry Derr-Wille walked into her sophomore English class and fell in love with writing. Her teacher, Earl Brockman, The Duke of Earl, announced that anyone getting an A on the first test could sit in the back of the room and write. Since no one ever told her to stop the assignment, she continued to write for over forty years before becoming published in 2003.

 

Married to her high school sweetheart, Bob, for over fifty years, she calls him a saint for putting up with a crazy writer. Together they raised three children, have nine grandchildren and five great granddaughters.

 

Born a country girl, she loves living in a mid-sized city close to the Illinois border in Wisconsin. Being retired gives her time to follow her heart with her writing along with editing for several private clients an three publishers.

 

 

 

 

KEYWORDS

 

Native American, Romance, Suspense, Early American

 

 

SOCIAL LIINKS

 

Website URL: www.derr-wille.com          

 

Blog URL:

 

Facebook page: SHERRY DERR-WILLE 

 

Twitter handle: 

 

Triberr:

 

#StarCrossed #FantasyRomance

 

Star Crossed

Christine Young

achristay@aol.com

 

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 2

Fantasy/Historical Romance

 

Buy at Amazon: 

 

BLURB: Star crossed

 

Ireland in 1817, when tensions are high between Protestants and Catholics, faey people guide the fate of villagers. A lovely Catholic lass stumbles upon the weakly ritual fisticuffing between Irish lads. She falls into the lap of a handsome young Protestant. Family ties, grudges, and two conniving faeries threaten their budding love. But the faeries outsmart themselves when they hijack a time machine that has mysteriously appeared in their forest.

 

EXCERPT: Star Crossed

 

The heat from the afternoon sun felt wonderful--enchanting--dreamy. When she tried to sit up, the earth whirled around her again. She wanted to feel indignant but she'd brought this on herself. She didn't quite understand why she wanted to convince this arrogant oaf she wasn't a little girl.

"You mind telling me why you tackled me?" he asked.

Casey turned her head to look at the young man. He leaned on one elbow, nonchalantly plucking a blade of grass and sticking it in his mouth. His dark black hair appeared rakishly windblown and his grin was bordered by dimples on both sides. She had the craziest urge to reach up and trace the line of his lips with her finger.

"I don't believe in fighting," she said. "It's absolutely stupid for the bunch of you to come out here on the Sabbath and fight when the rest of the week you are all bosom buddies."

"Stupid, you say?" he queried. "You dare to call me stupid?" he laughed and extended his hand. "Let me help you up. I don't think I'm ready to meet your dah with pistols on the dueling field. So I think I'd best be seeing you home."

An inferno swept through Casey. She didn't know if she still reeled from the impact or if the dizziness was something else--something magical--something supernatural. When he looked at her, she trembled and her face heated. She touched her hands to her cheeks. They felt cold and clammy. Afraid if he touched her again she might melt, she stared at a puffy cloud floating whimsically overhead.

He bent closer to her. The scent of mint filled the tiny space between them.

"You all right? Did you hear what I said?" he asked, touching a finger to the pulse throbbing at her neck. She tried to bat his hand away even while her heartbeat pounded faster, and she couldn't inhale a decent breath of air.

"Stop it," he said, and paused for a moment in his assessment of her health. "I think you will live."

"Of course I will and I can find my own way home. I'm eighteen. I turned two months ago."

"That old?" He laughed and she wanted to escape. Yet some little demon inside told her he was the last person she wanted to hide from. She felt as if her body had been taken over by something unearthly, something mysterious or filled with enchantment.

"You're going to have a black eye," she said and touched the bruise forming around his eye. "Does it hurt?"

"Come on, lass," he said still holding out his hand and sidestepping her question.

"You're ignoring me," she told him, getting up without accepting his hand and dusting off hers on her skirt.

"My apologies," he laughed, bowing slightly laugh lines crinkling his brow. "It only hurts when you remind me of it."

"Then I won't be reminding you," she said quickly.

"Casey," her brother said as he rounded the top of the hill. "You coming or do you mean to dawdle here all day?"

She jumped and pressed her fingers along her skirts to smooth them all the while feeling not a wee bit guilty, but a whole lot guilty. And I have nothing to feel ashamed of. "What are you doing here? I thought you left me to fend for myself," Casey said feeling a moment of loss at the thought her brother would be walking her home and not Kelly.

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Casey pushed on the green grass, trying to unwind herself from the man beneath her, but fell again. All right, Casey lass, you're in a heap of trouble right now with no way out. You are seeing the earth whirl and tumble around and you're on top of a brute of a man--a Protestant.

 

"All right, lads, we'll meet here next Sunday, same place, same time," her brother's voice filtered through the air as if it floated in the fog that surrounded Casey.

 

Once again she pushed on the damp grass and didn't seem to make headway, her arms feeling as if they'd changed to soggy twine. Don't you abandon me, Patrick O'Connell. You know I have the Devil's own luck. If you leave me here, I'll never forgive you.

 

"What about Casey?" one of her brother's friend asked. "She looks a little worse for the encounter."

 

"Do you think we should leave her here--with Kelly?"

 

"He's a right stand-up guy. Of course you can leave her here. We'll see her home," a Shaunasey said.

 

"Well, Kelly is a fine bloke. He won't hurt her. In fact with my feisty lil' sister involved, I fear for him--not her," Patrick said laughing. "She'll do as she pleases. She always does. How can I control her when father cannot? She does not need a second father." He shrugged his shoulder and looked behind him at his little sister as he strolled down the hill.

 

"She's hurt," another friend called after Patrick. "What kind of brother are you?"

 

"One who is tired of looking after an accident prone little lass. She has to take responsibility for herself sometime, does she not?"

 

"She is that," one commented. "You rescue her night and day."

 

~ * ~

 

"You should have blessed her with a wee bit o'Irish coordination," Oran said dryly as he flew to a hovering position near the girl.

 

"And you should remember what our blessed mother told us, 'if you cannot say anythin' nice, don't say anything at all'." Moya rose above the flower petal, her wings buzzing with her anger toward her brother.

 

"I didn't say anything that wasn't the truth." Oran whistled out of tune for a moment. "We could kidnap them."

 

"And that is your solution to everything?" Moya pointed one finger at him and shook it. "Why, Oran, I believe you may fancy the lass for yourself. I will not have it. Go play your tricks on someone else's charge. She is mine to see to safety and long life. And don't be forgettin' the lad is yours to watch over."

 

"You best stem your anger, Moya. You're wings have turned golden," Oran said with a hearty chuckle.

 

~ * ~

 

"Let Kelly handle her," Casey's brother said with a light chuckle. "He lost and so he must deal with the object of that loss and assume the consequences. It's only fair."

 

"Hey!" Kelly said, "Don't leave me here with your sister. It will be hell to pay. She's a little girl. What will your father say?"

 

The others laughed. "Just don't take too long to decide what to do with her. Little girl or not, father will come after you with his pistol."

 

I just turned eighteen years old--little girl--how dare he…

 

"Bloody hell, Patrick. What are you thinking?" Kelly cried out.

 

"I'm thinking the Catholics won this fight. What are you thinking?" Patrick turned his back on the pair and whistled a jaunty tune as he strolled down the hill.

 

"Revenge will be sweet. Next Sunday…" Kelly shook his fist at the departing back of Casey's brother.

 

From what seemed like a great distance Casey heard the moan emanating from inside her battered and bruised body. She squished her eyes together, wishing her head didn't pound so fiercely, and the ground spin so wildly. "Who are you?" she whispered next to the man's chest while a soft spring breeze whispered against her heated face.

 

"Who am I?" the man chuckled. "Lass, you are the one who landed atop me. I should be inquiring into who you are? Only I know." His hands rested around her waist and squeezed as if he were testing--perhaps exploring--entirely inappropriate. Yet for some strange reason, Casey didn't mind the supposed to be unwanted attention."And I don't think your brother should have left you here with the likes of me. I'm afraid I've landed myself in a dangerous predicament. And I'm thinkin' one that will be very hard to explain."

 

"Shame on you," Casey said. "You take liberties." The words stole her breath and she had to lean on Kelly once more in order to minimize the pounding of her head and the strange feelings emanating from where his hands were.

 

"I only want to remove you from--my--ah--person. And if I were taking liberties with you, lass, you'd be near swooning with passion."

 

"Ah, it seems you are a wee bit arrogant," she opened her eyes and gazed into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. "The color of a summer sky," she whispered to him, still feeling woozy and not quite sure what he'd just told her--but thinking at the moment something besides the fall caused the earth to spin and the sky to tilt with a crazy, wild abandon.

 

"What is, lass?"

 

"Your eyes," she said, struggling against him and finally rolling to the side so she lay sprawled on the grass, staring into the sky she'd referred to a moment earlier and watching a white billowy cloud float past. "I'm not a little girl," she told him. "Don't ever call me that again."

 

"Then you want me to tell lies?" he asked with a lazy half-smile that stole Casey's heart and left her floundering. "I dinna think I can do that."

 

"It isn't a lie," she said, trying to sound indignant, yet frustrated beyond anything she'd ever felt before.

 

Shadow'sEnd #fantasy

 

Shadow's End

Courtney Rene

ctnyrene@aol.com

Book Heat Level: 1

 

Buy at Amazon: 

 

 

BLURB: Shadow's End

 

The adventure and the struggle contines for Sunny, as the fight for control of Acadia is near. Battle lines have been drawn, not just by King Gideon, but also by the rebels that were once Sunny’s allies. Due to unexpected trips to the ice realm and the fire realm, new allies are found to help build the Army of the Sun. There are new worlds explored. New friends and new enemies made. Ready or not, Sunny must prepare for what is coming as well as decide where she belongs within it all. But…what about prom? What about Leif? What about home? How can she, just a seventeen year old girl, rule a whole world? She’s not even sure if she can get through finals. 

 

 

EXCERPT: Shadow's End

 

Leif turned his attention briefly to Lucas, who had stayed silent up to that point. “I see you have moved on. Rather quick don’t you think?” he said.

 

I refused to answer his taunt. Instead, I said to Lucas, “You about ready?”

 

A red flush of color appeared across Leif’s normally pale cheeks. I didn’t care. I was not going to be baited or made to feel bad for being out with Lucas. Was it a date? It hadn’t been specifically declared that, but it was something more than just an outing too. Maybe I was moving on, but that was my business. Not Leif’s. 

 

“Yep. I’m ready,” Lucas said, then shoved the last bite of burger into his mouth and stood to clear the table. 

 

I did the same, and gathered up my trash and belongings. 

 

Leif suddenly and inexplicably became enraged. Either he was more upset about Lucas than I had realized or he really was going a bit on the loopy side. He grabbed my arm painfully and said, “We aren’t through here.”

 

“Stop it! You’re hurting me,” I said through gritted teeth. I didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of the mall. People were already staring.

 

That was all the action Lucas needed to get involved. He slammed one big hand down on Leif’s shoulder and said as calm as could be, “I think you should release her.”

 

Leif did let go, which should have made me wary as he wasn’t the give up easy type, but I was too busy rubbing circulation back into my arm to think about it. 

 

Leif spun around to face Lucas. “You can mind your own business. This is between her and me.”

 

“You made it my business when you laid a hand on her,” Lucas said, not backing down an inch. 

 

Side by side the two were colored very alike, but that was where the similarities ended. Leif had ice blue eyes and Lucas had warm blue, inviting eyes. Leif was tall, thin, but wiry strong. Lucas was tall and bulky with evident muscles and strength. 

 

“You don’t know what you are dealing with here,” Leif said and took a step closer to Lucas. It was like he was daring him to engage. 

 

Lucas though, appeared calm and easy, no hint of aggression. “Yes. Actually I do.”

 

I began to realize that Leif didn’t recognize Lucas. He really didn’t know who he was. Leif didn’t have any special gifts other than begin a shadow walker tracker. Why then was he being so aggressive?

 

A wave of confusion crossed over Leif’s features for a moment. He stepped back and regarded Lucas. “You a walker?”

 

“Among other things. What’s it to you?”

 

Leif again grabbed my arm, not quite as hard that time, but hard enough to make me wince, and pulled me forward to stand almost next to him. “Then you know what she is,” he said.

 

I was getting a bit annoyed at being talked about like I wasn’t standing there. I was also getting angry at being manhandled by Leif. Incidentally, the anger is what caused me to pull in a bit of the energy from around us. I only grabbed a small ball of it, but it was enough to concern me. Whether in small or large amounts, energy was just as hard to control. 

 

“Yes, I do,” Lucas said.

 

Leif leaned toward Lucas until he was just a few inches away from his face, glared hard with half squinted eyes, and said, “They you also know she’s mine. I found her. You don’t get to have her.”

 

That was it. I didn’t care about the pain it was going to cause me. I purposefully and intentionally, pushed out a zap of energy at Leif, where he held my arm. Not enough to really hurt him, but it was enough to have him jerk his hand off me in surprise and a bit of pain. Rage clouded his eyes for a moment as he directed his gaze on me. 

 

I rounded on him with the full force of my own rage and completely ignored his. “You!” I said and poked a finger into his chest. “Don’t get to own me! No one gets to own me.” 

 

He took a step back. I stepped forward and poked him again. “I get to decide who I want to be with and who gets to be with me.” Again he took a step back, and me a step forward, and I poked him hard in the chest, hard enough to make my finger twinge in pain at the abuse, but I ignored it. “I get to decide. Do you hear me, Leif?”

 

“Sunny,” Lucas said from behind me. “You have an audience.”

 

Without taking my eyes from Leif, I swung an arm behind me with my hand up at him, hoping that I conveyed with that one action, to shut up. 

 

I did lower my voice at least. “You had your chance with me, but you chose to lie, to cheat, to keep me in the dark and at your mercy. You don’t get to decide anything about me anymore.”

 

I turned away from him and stepped back to my table, where I again began to gather up the debris from lunch. “Go home, Leif. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”

 

“Yes, there is,” he said softly from directly behind me. I hadn’t heard him come up next to me. Then even softer he said, “This isn’t over between us, Sunny. I’m not giving up.”

 

I glanced over my shoulder at him. The man before me was the Leif I knew. The Leif I had fallen in love with. The ice was missing from his face and his eyes and my heart felt the pain of losing him all over again. Why did it still hurt to see him, to be next to him? “Leif,” I whispered. “Go home. Please.”

 

Without regard to the people around us, he phased into the shadows and was gone.

 

“Sunny?”

 

“Yeah, Lucas,” I said as I stared at the place that Leif had vanished. I was suddenly so tired. 

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah. I’ll live.” 

 

“Um…do you know that you have a slight glow of white around you?”

 

No. I didn’t know that. I closed my eyes and sighed. “Great.”

 

 

 

 

 

Viking Voyager: An Icelandic Memoir by Sverrir Sigurdsson with Veronica Li

 Please welcome  Sverrir Sigurdsson with Veronica Li author of  Viking Voyager: An Icelandic Memoir

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

Viking Voyager: An Icelandic Memoir

by Sverrir Sigurdsson with Veronica Li

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

GENRE: Memoir/Autobiography

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

BLURB:

 

This vivacious personal story captures the heart and soul of modern Iceland. Born in Reykjavik on the eve of the Second World War, Sverrir Sigurdsson watched Allied troops invade his country and turn it into a bulwark against Hitler’s advance toward North America. The country’s post-war transformation from an obscure, dirt-poor nation to a prosperous one became every Icelander’s success. Spurred by this favorable wind, Sverrir answered the call of his Viking forefathers, setting off on a voyage that took him around the world.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

INTERVIEW:

Do you ever wish you were someone else? Who?

I’d like to be one of the Icelandic explorers who landed in America around the year 1000, well before Christopher Columbus.  The hero of this saga is actually a heroine, named Guðríður Þorbjarnardóttir.  She was a gorgeous and strong-willed woman, who grew up on a farm in Iceland. In her youth, she heard of lands west of Greenland and vowed to marry whoever would take her there.  Her first husband sailed with her and they stayed during the winter in Greenland.  But he died and she returned to Iceland.  Her second husband repeated the same sob story, and she returned once more to Iceland.  Her third husband took her all the way to a land that today is called Newfoundland, Canada.  They settled there for some 12 years and she gave birth to a son, the first white child born in America.  I wish I could have lived through that adventure. 

What did you do on your last birthday?

Some years ago, my wife Veronica and I decided it was silly to wrack our brains over birthday presents for each other.  We established a new tradition—taking each other to new places on birthdays.  And it had to be a surprise.  So, on my last birthday, I had no clue where we were going while Veronica directed me to drive up along the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. We ended in a place called Chesapeake City at the top of the Delmarva Peninsula.  We sat at a restaurant by the canal that connects the Atlantic Ocean to the Chesapeake Bay and watched ocean-going vessels pass by.  Definitely better than getting a wallet or socks.

In return, I took Veronica, who’s also my coauthor, to Ireland for her birthday.  We visited sites that my Viking forefathers had ravaged. After Vikings settled in a place they called Dýflin (now called Dublin), the Irish king recruited the help of the British to chase them out.  The Irish have regretted it ever since, for the British stayed and eventually took over the country for hundreds of years.  The trip was a great lesson in history and my heritage.  One of my ancestors is an Irish princess kidnapped by Vikings and taken to Iceland.

What part of the writing process do you dread? 

Who’s my audience?  That was the question I dreaded most.  Since I’m neither famous nor a survivor of tragedy or abuse, I doubted anyone would be interested in my story.  At the same time, I knew that Iceland was on every tourist radar these days.  Last year, there were 2 million visitors to the tiny country.  However, English language publications on Iceland were limited to mostly picture books on Icelandic scenery, and a few history books. I decided it was time that the world knew more about my hitherto obscure country.  A lively way of showing Iceland’s history and its Viking heritage is to introduce the reader to my family, our way of life, and outward-looking spirit.  With this purpose in mind, I got up the courage to complete my memoir, confident that there’s an audience out there.

I also dreaded writing about my weaknesses, which felt like stripping myself naked in public.  For example, I’d wanted to dismiss my disastrous first marriage with a sentence or two, but Veronica pushed me into giving a fair account of the issues involved and my role in it.  This is important since my ex had considerable bearing on my adventures.

 

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

My “writer’s block” is usually a matter of struggling to find the just-right words.  Sometimes I play solitaire at the computer and let the cells in the back of my brain do the work.  

My problem was actually the opposite: more like writer’s deluge than block.  I had so much to say about my life that if I hadn’t been selective, I would have ended with a 1000-page manuscript.  Veronica and I were constantly reminding ourselves to stick to the theme—the making of a modern-day Viking and his adventures.  Episodes that were relevant to the theme were ramped up and others played down or discarded.  Without this discipline, the memoir would have turned into a mishmash of anecdotes.

Tell us about your latest release.

Viking Voyager: An Icelandic Memoir is my personal story. The first part is about my growing up in Iceland, steeped in the ancient sagas of Norse explorers.  Born on the eve of the Second World War, I witnessed Allied soldiers march into Iceland and turn it into a fortress against Hitler’s aggression into North America.  After the war, I saw Iceland grow from a dirt-poor nation into a thriving country on every tourist’s bucket list.  The second part is about my traveling the world to seek my fortune, just as my Viking forefathers did.  My memoir tracks a colorful globe-trotting career first as an architect and later branching into various fields in international development.  I’ve worked on the construction of a palatial harem for the Emir of Abu Dhabi, built schools in newly independent nations in Africa, and helped to liberalize communist economies in Eastern Europe after the collapse of the Soviet Union.  My career ends with developing a system that has provided textbooks and other reading materials to millions of children in the world´s poorest countries.  I’ve indeed found my fortune, not in monetary riches but in the experiences that have enriched my heart and mind.  

EXCERPT:

 

My maternal grandfather, Þorkell Magnússon, was the captain of a fishing vessel called Gyða. In early April 1910, he and his seven-man crew, including his eldest son, set sail from Bíldudalur, a small town in northwest Iceland. Their destination was the rich fishing grounds beyond the fjord. April was the beginning of the fishing season, which lasted until September. These were the “mild” months. In reality, the weather was often stormy and below freezing, pushing both the boat and men to the limit of their endurance. Three weeks later, on April 23, Gyða headed for home, her hull laden with cod, the valuable cash fish many fishermen had died for. Nearing their home fjord, the men’s hearts must have lifted. A hot meal, a warm bed, and the family’s embrace were within a day’s reach. 

 

That night, a furious northerly gale pounded the region with snow and sleet, whipping the sea into a deadly cauldron of crashing waves. All hands would have scrambled on deck to wrestle with the wind, jibing and tacking to keep the gusts from capsizing the boat. The battle went on all night. The next morning, Gyða was still upright and staggering closer to home. Einar, my grandfather’s neighbor and a former crew member, attested to seeing her from shore during a visit to his family’s farm on the outer reaches of Arnarfjörður (Eagle Fjord). The wind was still howling, pummeling the boat from left and right. But Einar was confident the boat could hold herself together. After all, Gyða was a sturdy oceangoing vessel, one of the first to be built in Iceland with state-of-the art technology. In just a few more hours, she would reach the safety of the harbor.

 

 

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

 

Sverrir Sigurdsson grew up in Iceland and graduated as an architect from Finland in 1966. He pursued an international career that took him to the Middle East, Africa, Asia, Eastern Europe, and the U.S. His assignments focused on school construction and improving education in developing countries. He has worked for private companies, as well as UNESCO and the World Bank. He is now retired and lives in Northern Virginia with his wife and coauthor, Veronica.

 

Veronica Li emigrated to the U.S. from Hong Kong as a teenager. She received her Bachelor of Arts in English from the University of California, Berkeley, and her master’s degree in International Affairs from Johns Hopkins University. She has worked as a journalist and for the World Bank, and is currently a writer. Her three previously published titles are: Nightfall in Mogadishu, Journey across the Four Seas: A Chinese Woman’s Search for Home, and Confucius Says: A Novel. Her website is www.veronicali.com.

 

Amazon author page:

https://www.amazon.com/Sverrir-Sigurdsson/e/B08LFYCCPD

https://www.amazon.com/Veronica-Li/e/B001JOSCAQ

 

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/tssigurdsson

https://www.facebook.com/veronica.li.39

 

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/Sverrir_Sigurds

https://twitter.com/VeronicaLi5

 

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/142534.Veronica_Li

 

The Book will be $1.99 during the tour. 

 

Amazon.com buy link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08MDMRM66/

 

Amazon.ca buy link: https://www.amazon.ca/Viking-Voyager-Icelandic-Sverrir-Sigurdsson-ebook/dp/B08MDMRM66/

 

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

 

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

 

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f3570