Skip to main content

Lady Wynwood #7 early release Kickstarter

I worked on my first Kickstarter and it got approved! It’s for the Special Edition Hardcover of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 1: Archer and the release of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, volume 7: Spinster. I contacted my graphic designer about the Special Edition Hardcover of vol. 1: Archer—it’s going to be SO beautiful! The Kickstarter focuses on the Special Edition Hardcover, but it’ll also include vol. 7: Spinster so that it’ll sort of be like a launch day for vol. 7, too. A third special thing that’ll be in the Kickstarter is Special Edition Paperbacks of all the books in the series. They won’t be available in stores, just in the Kickstarter (and later, from my website, and also in my Patreon book box tiers if I decide to do them). The Kickstarter is not live yet, but you can follow it to be alerted when it has launched. (You may need to create a free Kickstarter account.) Follow Camy’s Kickstarter

Book excerpt - WASHINGTON'S LADY by Nancy Moser

This week, the


Christian Fiction Blog Alliance


is introducing



Washington's Lady


(Bethany House June 1, 2008)


by


Nancy Moser



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Nancy Moser is the author of three inspirational humor books and eighteen novels, including Solemnly Swear, Just Jane, and Time Lottery, a Christy Award winner. She is an inspirational speaker, giving seminars around the country. She has earned a degree in architecture; run a business with her husband; traveled extensively in Europe; and has performed in various theaters, symphonies, and choirs. She and her husband have three grown children and make their home in the Midwest.


ABOUT THE BOOK


It has been said that without George Washington there would be no United States. But without Martha, there would be no George Washington. He called her "my other self."

Who was this woman who captured the heart of our country's founder? She dreams of a quiet life with her beloved George, but war looms...

Though still a young woman, Martha Dandridge Custis was a wealthy, attractive widow and the mother of two small children with no desire to remarry. But when a striking war hero steps into her life, she realizes that she is ready to love again. She is courted by, then marries the French and Indian War hero.

Yet she wonders whether this man, accustomed to courageous military exploits, can settle down to a simple life of farming and being a father to her children. Even as she longs for domestic bliss, Martha soon realizes she will have to risk everything dear to her and find the courage to get behind a dream much larger than her own.

Her new life as Martha Washington took her through blissful times at Mount Vernon, family tragedies, six years of her husband's absence during the Revolutionary War, and her position as a reluctant First Lady.

Known for moving first-person novels of Nannerl Mozart and Jane Austen, in Washington's Lady, Nancy Moser now brings to life the loves and trials of the First First Lady of the United States.

Excerpt of chapter one:

Death mocked me.

Daniel’s booming voice was forever still. Never again would I hear his explosive laughter, or his whispered, “I love you, Martha.”

I walked away from the grave of my husband. Seven short years was not enough. Yet it was not just his death that scorned me. . . .

I was sick to death of death.

“Dow!”

I held little Patsy, but a toddling fourteen months, in my arms. “No, dear one. Let Mamma hold you.”

Let Mamma never let you go.

I looked about the Queens Creek cemetery, at all who had come to offer their condolences. Their eyes revealed their compassion, their wish to help. But how could anyone help?

My mother approached, wearing the black of mourning that had become far too familiar within the Dandridge and Custis families. Patsy extended her arms to her grandmother. I relinquished her.

“Come, little one,” Mother said. Her eyes included me. “Let us go back to the house. It is time for a nap.”

A nap would be of great relief—though unattainable. For whenever I attempted sleep I was greeted with the sight of my husband’s eyes as he suffered. Although I had prayed for the best, he had expected the worst.

His throat thick with a virulent infection, he had struggled to speak. “I am so sorry, Martha. So sorry to leave you.”

I was sorry too.

There would be no nap for a second reason: my son was still ill. Three-year-old Jacky lay abed, still holding on to a fever and the same swollen throat. For a month we had tried to make Jacky better, e’en bringing Dr. Carter the twenty-five miles from Williamsburg when my own medical abilities proved unworthy. Having just suffered the death of my second-born, Frances, two months previous, I would take no chance.

N’ar a week ago Daniel had succumbed to the sickness. No treatment helped. And he died.

My Daniel died.

The doctor said his heart was weak and further weakened by the fever.

It mattered not what took him, only that he was gone.

And I was left behind.

We reached the family home we used when in Williamsburg and I put Patsy to bed and checked upon Jacky, who was better of body, though not of spirit. Then I took solace in the study, needing silence and solitude above social commiseration. It was startling to realize being alone was a permanent state.

Perhaps I should have sought the company of others. . . .

Perhaps I should have.

But I could not do it.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Before I could utter a response—tell the intruder to please leave me alone—the door opened. It was Mother.

She entered the room, closed the door of the study with a subtle click, then took a seat beside me on the settee, her black skirts touching mine. “What can I do to help you, daughter?”

Such a simple question, but one I could only answer in a most ungenerous manner. I sprang to my feet and faced her as though she were the enemy. “You can help me by explaining why our family is made to suffer so cruelly. Eighteen years of my life were passed with nary a sorrow, but in the past eight . . . First, my brother drowns in the river, then my father-in-law—after finally consenting to our marriage—dies before the ceremony. Daniel and I are blessed with his namesake—who dies at age three. And six months later my own father, your husband, dies from the heat at a racetrack and—”

“It is not wise to dwell—”

“I do not dwell! I speak facts. After Father died, three more children blessed us. Then death found us again—twofold in one year! My dearest baby Frances—but four years old—is ripped away from me, and now, but three months later, my husband?” My final words came amid sobs. “I am only twenty-six! How can I be asked to bear such grief?”

“You are not asked.”

Her words, so plainly said, stunned me to silence. No indeed, death had not asked my permission to inflict its wounds. For if it had solicited my opinion, I would have barred it at the door, saying, “Halt! You will not enter here!”

My vehemence fueled a new thought, more than a mere thought, a new resolve. I faced Mother and raised my chin with the tenacity that had become a necessary part of survival in these Colonies. “I will not allow death to hurt me again! I will not!”

Mother opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, then opened it again. “Then you best not love again.”

I ignored the truth in her words. To love was to risk pain.

Then perhaps I would not love anew.

I continued my vow. “As God is my witness, I will protect what I do love. I will enshroud my two surviving children with constant attention, devotion, and protection. Death will not dare approach us, nor make any attempts to breech my fortification.”

“But, Martha—”

I swiped away my tears. “I am done with death! And I swear, it is now done with me.”

I strode from the room and hurried upstairs, pausing at the door that led to poor Jacky. I steadied my breathing as well as my hand upon the knob.

I entered the dim room, the draperies closed against the afternoon sun that scorned us with its brightness. I let my eyes adjust to the light and was about to seek the children's nanny—whom I had instructed to watch upon my son whilst I was gone. How dare she leave him alone.

And yet . . . Jacky was not alone. For as I edged closer I saw that my dearest Patsy had left her room and had climbed beside her big brother. My two darlings lay snuggled in each other’s arms, Patsy’s head upon Jacky’s shoulder.

I reached to lift her from his sickbed, then thought better of it. Jacky’s breathing seemed easier. Perhaps the comfort of his little sister was a balm beyond the meager medicines Dr. Carter had offered. Brother and sister, bonded by their need as well as their love.

Gazing upon them, I put a hand to my lips, stifling a sob. For beyond my loss of a husband, my children had lost a father. There would be no more games of ride-the-pony or sitting in their father’s lap by the fire as he told stories.

“ ‘London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down . . .’ ” The familiar song came to my lips unbidden.

I forced it to silence.

There would be too much silence in this house now.

The sobs threatened once again. Would they ever leave me alone?

I nodded once. They must leave me. I could not let them wield their power, for once unleashed, the sobs would lead to despair, which would lead to surrender and—

Death would claim further victory, not against the dead, but against those it left behind.

I moved a chair beside the bed, hoping the soft rustle of my skirts would not awaken my darlings.

This is where I belonged. This is where I vowed to remain, standing guard against all that dared come against my children.

So help me God.

Comments

Popular Posts

No Cold Bums toilet seat cover

Captain's Log, Stardate 08.22.2008 I actually wrote out my pattern! I was getting a lot of hits on my infamous toilet seat cover , and I wanted to make a new one with “improvements,” so I paid attention and wrote things down as I made the new one. This was originally based off the Potty Mouth toilet cover , but I altered it to fit over the seat instead of the lid. Yarn: any worsted weight yarn, about 120 yards (this is a really tight number, I used exactly 118 yards. My suggestion is to make sure you have about 130 yards.) I suggest using acrylic yarn because you’re going to be washing this often. Needle: I used US 8, but you can use whatever needle size is recommended by the yarn you’re using. Gauge: Not that important. Mine was 4 sts/1 inch in garter stitch. 6 buttons (I used some leftover shell buttons I had in my stash) tapestry needle Crochet hook (optional) Cover: Using a provisional cast on, cast on 12 stitches. Work in garter st until liner measures

Toilet seat cover

Captain’s Log, Supplemental Update August 2008: I wrote up the pattern for this with "improvements"! Here's the link to my No Cold Bums toilet seat cover ! Okay, remember a few days ago I was complaining about the cold toilet seat in my bathroom? Well, I decided to knit a seat cover. Not a lid cover, but a seat cover. I went online and couldn’t find anything for the seat, just one pattern for the lid by Feminitz.com . However, I took her pattern for the inside edge of the lid cover and modified it to make a seat cover. Here it is! It’s really ugly stitch-wise because originally I made it too small and had to extend it a couple inches on each side. I figured I’d be the one staring at it, so who cared if the extension wasn’t perfectly invisible? I used acrylic yarn since, well, that’s what I had, and also because it’s easy to wash. I’ll probably have to wash this cover every week or so, but it’s easy to take off—I made ties which you can see near the back of the seat. And

Rules, rules, rules

Captain's Log, Stardate 09.09.2009 Well, I have discovered that I need to comply with California law in order to do my book giveaways. Who knew there were so many rules? It doesn’t really affect you guys much, except that I can no longer mail the books internationally . Sorry, guys, but I really don’t relish spending any time in prison. Here’s the new rules, effective for any give away on this blog, in my newsletter , or on my website after September 9th, 2009: Disclaimer: 1. No purchase necessary to enter any give aways given on this blog (http://camys-loft.blogspot.com/), in my newsletter (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Camys_Loft), or on my website (http://www.camytang.com/). The give away will end on the date stated in the posting. The opportunity to play may be affected by local ability to access the Internet at any particular time. The odds of winning depend upon the number of participants. 2. Open to all readers, 18 years or older who are legally allowed to participate in su

Speed reading

Captain’s Log, Stardate 05.04.2007 I totally want to learn to speed read. My friend Georgiana found a website and posted a few tips on her blog: Speed Reading 101 If I could speed read, I could read so many more books than I do now! I think my biggest problem is sub-vocalizing my words. I don’t think I’ve EVER not done it. I don’t know if I’d be able to not do it. If that makes any sense whatsoever. Anybody have tips?

Like Writing For Chocolate

Captain's Log, Stardate 05.12.2009 I admit, I eat copious amounts of chocolate when I’m writing. It helps me to write better. And lately (to Captain Caffeine’s dismay) I’ve become a bit snobbish about my chocolate. My favorite is Vosges Haut Chocolate, which is massively expensive but really really good. I like them because their chocolate is not only high quality, it’s not too sweet and the flavors are very exotic. For the last book, I ordered truffles from Vosges: Les Fleurs du Chocolat Truffle Collection and a Green Tea Truffle Collection (no longer on the website). Here’s the Les Fleurs collection: From the insert: Out of the bloom Les Fleurs du chocolate Botanics in a chocolate hue Enveloped in the scent of roses, orchids, marigolds and nasturtiums, these blooms are even sweeter than they look. Flowers have long been praised for their medicinal properties—so we decided to pair them with spices, herbs and liqueurs to explore the body-beautiful attributes of Mother Nature’s col

Excerpt - The Sound of Sleigh Bells by Cindy Woodsmall

The Sound of Sleigh Bells by Cindy Woodsmall Beth Hertzler works alongside her beloved Aunt Lizzy in their dry goods store, and serving as contact of sorts between Amish craftsmen and Englischers who want to sell the Plain people’s wares. But remorse and loneliness still echo in her heart everyday as she still wears the dark garb, indicating mourning of her fiancé. When she discovers a large, intricately carved scene of Amish children playing in the snow, something deep inside Beth’s soul responds and she wants to help the unknown artist find homes for his work–including Lizzy’s dry goods store. But she doesn’t know if her bishop will approve of the gorgeous carving or deem it idolatry. Lizzy sees the changes in her niece when Beth shows her the woodworking, and after Lizzy hunts down Jonah, the artist, she is all the more determined that Beth meets this man with the hands that create healing art. But it’s not that simple–will Lizzy’s elaborate plan to reintroduce her niece to lo

Favorite chocolate?

Captain's Log, Stardate 04.22.2008 Lately I’ve been on this chocolate kick. Normally, I’m not a huge chocoholic like Captain Caffeine. I enjoy chocolate, but if given a choice, I’ll usually choose a fruit or custard/creamy dessert over a triple decadence chocolate layer cake or a chocolate-lovers’ downfall brownie. But lately, I’ve been eating dark chocolate squares. I think it started when I went into Joseph Schmidt gourmet chocolate shop in Santana Row. We’d gotten Joseph Schmidt truffles for Christmas, and they’d been fabulous—I can honestly say that they were as good as DeBrand truffles (author Colleen Coble’s favorite). So when I saw the brick and mortar shop in Santana Row, I went in immediately. Inside, this man was buying up stacks—and I kid you not, stacks —of the Joseph Schmidt Belgian Dark Chocolate bars. He raved about them, said they were terrific. A cashier was restocking the display case the man had cleaned out, and I snagged a bar. “I’ve got to try one, after watc

Sunday Prayer

Captain's Log, Stardate 08.03.2008 Leave any prayer requests in the comments and I’ll be praying this week. You don’t have to be Christian to leave a prayer request. If you’d rather not advertise to everyone on the blogosphere, just leave an unspoken prayer request or e-mail me. If I forgot your prayer request, email me. Not to be mean or anything, but if you don't email me or comment to update your prayer request, I'm only going to pray ONE Sunday. I’m trying something new with my Sunday Prayer. I’m really bad about doing it on Sunday , so I’ll be updating it during the week. Dear Lord, thank you for your power. I pray for complete healing for Malia, Helen, Cheryl, and Sharon. I also lift up any of my blog readers in need of physical, emotional, or spiritual healing and pray you will touch them. I lift up Case and his family to you. I lift up Caitlin to you and pray she got the job. I pray you have directed everything and that everything will turn out for her good. Help he

「戌年」連載小説 第11章

キャミー・タング著「戌年」連載小説 プロのドッグトレーナーであるマリ・ムトウは、厄年を迎えている。 犬小屋と訓練所の改築をしながら、いつも不服そうにしている家族と同居することになった。母と姉に言わせれば、犬の毛とよだれかけにまみれる仕事は、家族にとって恥ずべきものだという。彼女は元カレを説得し、数ヶ月間犬を預かってもらうことにした。しかし、彼の兄は、数週間前に彼女が誤って車に追突した、怒り狂ったセキュリティ専門家であることが判明する。 アシュウィン・ケイトウは十分な問題を抱えている。叔母が玄関先に現れ、同居を希望している。彼は彼女にすべてを借りているので、断ることができません。母親が家を出て行った後、ネルおばさんはアシュウィンと弟を引き取り、愛のあるキリスト教の家庭で育てた。しかも、弟のダスティもアパートを追い出され、居場所を求めている。しかし、彼は犬を飼っている。そして、その犬の飼い主は誰だと思いますか? しかし、旧友でオアフ島のノースショアでデイスパを経営する私立探偵のエディサ・ゲレロから依頼を受ける。マリの施設で奇妙な破壊行為があり、3年前に失踪したエディサの妹の財布を発見する。エディサはマリが危険な目に遭っているのではと心配する。警備の専門家であるアシュウィンがすでにマリを知っていることを知ったエディサは、忙しい若い女性を密かに監視することを彼に依頼する。 アシュウィンは、活発でのんびりとしたドッグトレーナーに不本意ながら惹かれていく。彼女は、幸せそうな母親を思い出させる。その母親の裏切りによって、彼は人と距離を置くようになったのだ。マリは、アシュウィンの冷たい外見を見抜き、彼が家族に忠実な男であることを認める。彼は、彼女のキャリア選択を批判するだけの母親や姉とは違う。 マリのバラバラな家庭とアシュウィンのバラバラな家庭の中で、過去を隠そうとする人たちから、彼らの周りに危険が迫ってくるようになる。彼らは、影で動く秘密に光を当てることができるのか? 過去に発表されたパートへのリンクはこちら。 *** 第11章 - タビー猫、黒猫、灰色と茶色の縞猫 彼女の母親は何かを摂取したに違いない。何を摂取したかはわからないが、代謝が急激に上がり、まるで神経質なリスのようになった。マリには、過去数日間に母親が家全体を掃除させた理由

Hello 2014!

I LOVE New Year’s Resolutions. I know lots of you hate them but I LOVE making them. I hardly ever fulfill them but it’s still fun making them because the whole year is new and filled with possibility. Last year, I was upset to get sidelined by plantar fasciitis so that I couldn’t run the Honolulu Marathon in December as I’d planned. My head and spirit weren’t in a good place for much of last year, which affected my work, and to cope, I slipped back into bad eating habits while I was under deadline for books. I gained 5-8 pounds over the year and felt like a gigantic blob sitting in my work chair. My New Year’s Resolution is to lose 30 pounds and train for the Honolulu Marathon in December 2014! I want to stop snacking while I work because I’ve gotten used to having something in my mouth as I’m typing, and I don’t think that’s a good thing. Instead, I’d like to get up from my work, have a snack at the table, and then return to my work. I actually started my resolution early and re