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

Excerpt - Springtime of the Spirit by Maureen Lang

Springtime of the Spirit
by
Maureen Lang


By the fall of 1918, the Great War has ended and the world is at peace, but there is little to celebrate in Germany. After four years of fighting for his homeland, Christophe Brecht returns to find there is little left of what he once called home. So when family friends ask him to travel to Munich to bring back their runaway daughter, Christophe agrees.

When he finally locates Annaliese Duray, he discovers she is far different from the girl he once knew. Headstrong, idealistic, and beautiful, she is on the front lines of the city’s political scene, fighting to give women and working-class citizens a voice in Germany’s new government.

As the political upheaval ignites in Munich, so does the attraction between Annaliese and Christophe. With an army from Berlin threatening to squash everything Annaliese has worked for, both she and Christophe are forced to choose between love and loyalty.

Excerpt of chapter one:

Once there was a country that wanted a turn being a great and mighty empire. They

thought their freedom was at stake when the countries around them matched their race

for armaments. To protect that freedom and to make a try for their mighty empire, they

ordered their army—an army with a glorious history of excellence—to fight.

Despite all assurances that they would surely win, this country was defeated after all.

And its people, shocked over losing a war they’d been told would be won, ripened for

revolt against the leadership that had brought them not only the loss of so many men, but

the scorn of the world.

Some were willing to allow more sacrifice, but no longer from the workers and

soldiers who had already given so much.

Some wanted a better nation through finding a better part of themselves.

This is the story of two such people.

Part I

November 1918

Chapter One

One step, then another. He’d started out with his eyes forward, chin up, but all he could

see now were the tips of his boots.

Christophe Brecht was inside German territory, the train having taken them back

over the border, away from the trenches that had marred France for the past four years.

The ground his boots pounded now belonged to the fatherland.

Home.

The only sound was that of his men marching beside him—not that their tread could

be called marching. Most looked as tired and worn as he, barely able to take the next step.

They were still covered in the mud of no man’s land, thick from boots to knee and in

varying layers up to the helmet.

Did any of them remember how it had been when they marched—yes, really

marched—in the other direction? Songs and praise echoed from every avenue, and

flowers showered them from smiling women, with proud pats on the back from fathers

and old men.

The city that had sent them so gloriously off to battle was still beyond sight. Those

not wishing to go all the way to Munich had been made to get off the train already, close

to but not at their requested destinations. The train lines were in disarray after handing

over half of their locomotives to the Allies, too much disarray to answer individual needs.

But Christophe wasn’t far from Braedon, his small hometown some distance west of

Munich. He shoved away old thoughts of how this day was supposed to be. No victory

parades to greet them, no flowers. No woman to kiss him now that he was home. Just

silence.

He stared ahead under the autumn sunlight. His vision was clear, something the

army had taken advantage of when they’d trained him to be a sniper in the last chaotic

weeks of the war. Despite his earlier promotion from Hauptmann to Major, they’d stuck

him where he was needed most, no consideration of his rank. Not that he hadn’t been a

successful sniper, but what he’d counted success only days ago now seemed something

else altogether.

Very likely many of the men beside him couldn’t see the details he could—signs on

the series of poles before them: splashes of red, in flags, in backdrop. Signs he hadn’t

seen the likes of since before the war. Back when people still talked about politics, when

the German voice wasn’t the single one it had turned into during the war.

Then he saw it. An older poster, a bit tattered by the wind. The Kaiser’s face, easily

recognizable with his mustache and uniform. A call to arms.

Christophe tore his gaze away, to the sky, back to his boots. He’d answered that call;

so had each of those who trod at his side. A call that had ended this way.

Rumor had it the Kaiser had fled Germany in disgrace. Good riddance. If what they

said about the armistice were true—that Germany was to be given sole blame for the

war—then the world hated them. Hated all of them for how the Kaiser and his cronies,

both aristocratic and military, had pushed them into this war.

Hated them almost as much as Christophe hated himself for all he’d done while in it.

His pace picked up before he knew it; blood pumped as wildly as it had during any

fight with the British or French, in offense or defense. He reached for a rock and hurled it

at the Kaiser’s image. It landed with a thud directly between the eyes.

Another rock, then suddenly more than just his own, along with a grunt here and

there, a muffled cry. Were they his? No. A few men broke ranks and hurled themselves at

what was left of the poster.

All his life Christophe had needed something to cling to. His parents, a schoolmaster,

the church, his commanding officer. In the trenches, other soldiers. And Christ.

Hate filled him now—something he didn’t want but couldn’t rid himself of. He clung

to that

Christophe kept hold of the rock in his hand. No need to throw it—the poster had

disappeared.

***

“And so, fellow Germans! The calendar may say autumn, but in fact we are in the

springtime of Germany. The winter of an unjust war is behind us. New life buds for all

of us. Are there storms in spring? Yes, but the squalls bring us the energy we need for

change. We can build our country anew, and model for all—for ourselves and for our

neighbors, with the world’s eye on us—that we speak as one voice, a voice of men, of

women, all of us together as one people without differences.”

Annaliese barely paused, although the crowd was already beginning to cheer. She

read the same fervor on every face; it was like a wave passing over those gathered,

binding them together, uniting them.

“They’ll hear us speak of protecting and not exploiting our fellow citizens. They’ll

hear of our compassion for those in need, feel it in the plans to protect even the least in

Germany. They’ll hear our demands for the equal distribution of food!”

Cries of affirmation forced a pause.

“We’ll no longer be burdened by the yoke of a monarchy or kept under the thumb of

warmongers but we will be free—yes, really free—to live in the peace for which our men

fought. Peace! Freedom! Fairness! And bread!”

Annaliese Düray reveled in the jubilation, in the immediate approval of her call.

They outmatched her voice, which was a considerable thing because her voice was bigger

than she was—especially on this platform. Hands raised, she lifted her cry even louder,

proud of the timbre she’d inherited from her one-time schoolmarm mother. Not the

strident screech of some women but mid-toned, boisterous, easy on the ear even at this

pitch. “Peace is ours! And so is the future! If we rally behind the Party!”
“Anya . . . Anya, come along now.”

Leo Beckenbauer’s arm went around her waist and he ushered her from the crowd.

Two others carved a path between the brick wall of the Apotheke behind them and the

crowd before them, and off they went, the exuberance still echoing in her ears.

“Did you see them, Leo?” she called, breathless. “And more were coming! We

should stay—”

But he pressed forward and there was little she could do except follow, with Leo

next to her, bodyguards in front and behind them. Each one was a brother to her, united

not by blood but by something deeper, a passion ardent enough to stir all Germany

toward a better future. One that would bond them with others throughout the world.

They evaded the few people who followed by turning into a narrow gangway

between the back of the Apotheke and the shop next door. Only four blocks to the back of

the butcher shop Leo’s father once ran, the temporary headquarters for those whose ideals

about the future matched their own.

Not a block away, Annaliese heard the echoes and cries of another rally, led by a

voice she recognized as belonging to another party. The communists—a party not likely

to support the recently appointed Bavarian Prime Minister Eisner the way she did. Eisner

had been appointed by revolution, with a quick and systematic takeover—and not a single

shot fired. Such a takeover would have been far different had the red communists been

in charge, even if they did want some of the same things Annaliese’s own party wanted.

Eisner had agreed to a quick election just weeks from now, proving his confidence that he

had the will of the people behind him, even though a half dozen other parties demanded

their voices be heard, too.
But in this neighborhood only one voice was the loudest, and that was Jurgen’s. A

socialist one.

She saw the exchange of glances between the men around her, starting with Leo

who looked at Ivo and Ivo who looked at Huey. Huey was an ironworker and Ivo a

woodworker—or Ivo had been, until the war had claimed most of his fingers. Despite

any hint of a disability, he was as tall as he was stalwart, just like Huey. It would take

little more than a word from either one of them to disperse a competing crowd in their

territory.

“I could have stayed this time, Leo,” Annaliese said once they entered the back of

the darkened shop. Though the kitchen hadn’t boasted a single slab of meat or even the

stingiest of sausages in well over a year, the slight residue of blood and spices still tickled

her nose when Leo closed the door behind them.

Leo went to the table where a stack of papers awaited him. “You know how Eisner

likes it; you and Jurgen are to keep their thoughts on Eisner’s Council so the vote will be

won. You’ll spend time more freely with the people once Jurgen is back beside you. He is

Eisner’s Council around here, or at least the best known of the Council members.”

Of all the voices struggling to be heard these days, other than Eisner himself, it was

Jurgen who attracted the biggest response from nearly all corners of their broken society.

His promises to meet everyday needs did not fall on deaf ears, because his was the voice

of the workers and the peasants themselves—of all those who’d never had a voice before.

Jurgen liked to tell Annaliese she brought the women’s voice to him, but Annaliese

knew better. People came because they wanted to see Jurgen, to hear him, to witness

the spark in his eye as he promised them what they wanted most of all. Each came with

one need or another, but Jurgen promised that the Council had the answer no matter the

question.

And Leo had access to bread, when he could find it. Bread few could afford in the

quantities their office provided through donations and collections at street rallies. They

could afford collectively what individually they must do without. Starve alone or unite

and eat. Practical evidence of the effectiveness of the Council’s goals.

“Oh! It must have been delivered while we were gone.” Annaliese scooped up the

package left on the wide butcher’s table beside the stack of notes Leo tended. “And just

in time for tomorrow’s Council meeting.”

Ripping away the string and paper, she held up the jacket for Leo to see. It was

exactly as she’d told the tailor to make it: broad across the shoulders, with a touch of

padding to make those shoulders appear fully capable of holding the world’s woes, just

as he needed them to. And not black, but blue—dark, though, because anything too bright

would be out of place in their tattered world. Yet blue would cast his elegant eyes in the

best of light.

But Leo was shaking his head. “He’ll look like a capitalist.”

“No jacket will hide Jurgen’s working class background. It’s in the width of his

shoulders, the strength and size of his hands. In this, he’ll look the way every man wants

to look. Strong. Fatherly yet handsome; a leader. And the color will reveal the poet in

him.”

Leo aimed a skeptical brow her way. “Fatherly? I wasn’t aware that’s how you

viewed him.”

She ignored the comment; it wasn’t the first time Leo had tried coaxing free her

infatuation with Jurgen. “It’s important that he not look like a military man, even if we

do want the military behind us. We’ve seen enough leaders in uniform. And he won’t

wear the top hat of a capitalist, either, or the shoes of a monarch. He’ll wear trousers

like anyone else, only this jacket will show he can take on another’s burden without the

excesses of an exploiter.”

“Yes, well, he’s doing that, isn’t he?” Leo fingered the sleeve—durable fabric, plain

but for the dark blue color. “Well chosen, Anya. You’re young but smart, I’ve said so

right along.”

Annaliese smiled at the praise, especially coming from Leo. Jurgen might be the one

to receive public praise in the name of Eisner’s Council—or the blame from those who

disagreed—but anyone who worked beside them knew whatever Jurgen believed, Leo

had believed first.

Print book:
Barnes and Noble
Amazon
Christianbook.com
Books a Million

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

Sneak peek: Camy’s Kickstarter Pledge Levels

I’m working hard to create exciting pledge levels for my upcoming Kickstarter! Don’t know what Kickstarter is? Check out this blog post about my Kickstarter. I posted a description of the Pledge Levels (and pictures) on Patreon. Click here to check out the Kickstarter Pledge Levels! You can Follow my Kickstarter to be notified when it’s launched, and I’ll also announce in my newsletter when it’s live. Follow Camy’s Kickstarter here

Sneak peek: Camy’s Kickstarter rewards

This Kickstarter is going to be awesome! I’ve been planning rewards that’ll knock your socks off! Don’t know what Kickstarter is? Check out this blog post about my Kickstarter. I posted a description of the rewards (and pictures) on Patreon. Click here to check out the Kickstarter rewards! You can Follow my Kickstarter to be notified when it’s launched, and I’ll also announce in my newsletter when it’s live. Follow Camy’s Kickstarter here

Grace Livingston Hill romances free on Google Books

I wanted to update my old post on Grace Livingston Hill romances because now there are tons more options for you to be able to read her books for free online! I’m a huge Grace Livingston Hill fan. Granted, not all her books resonate with me, but there are a few that I absolutely love, like The Enchanted Barn and Crimson Roses . And the best part is that she wrote over 100 books and I haven’t yet read them all! When I have time, I like to dive into a new GLH novel. I like the fact that most of them are romances, and I especially appreciate that they all have strong Christian themes. Occasionally the Christian content is a little heavy-handed for my taste, but it’s so interesting to see what the Christian faith was like in the early part of the 20th century. These books are often Cinderella-type stories or A Little Princess (Frances Hodgson Burnett) type stories, which I love. And the best part is that they’re all set in the early 1900s, so the time period is absolutely fasci

ACFW booksigning at the Mall of America

Captain's Log, Stardate 09.04.2008 What: ACFW booksigning Who: 127 Christian novelists Where: Best Buy and Sears Rotundas and connecting hallway, Mall of America, Bloomington, MN When: Saturday, September 20, 2008, 1-3 p.m. Why: To meet your favorite authors! I’ll be participating in a massive Christian author booksigning at the Mall of America in Minnesota! You can buy copies of my books there or you can bring your copies for me to sign. I’ll also have a special surprise for the people who come to get their books signed, while supplies last! Here are the other authors signing with me: Mall of America Booksigners Tamera Alexander Jennifer AlLee A.K. Arenz Diane Ashley Karen Ball Janet Lee Barton James Scott Bell Joseph Bentz Terri Blackstock Robin Caroll Patricia PacJac Carroll Jeanie Smith Cash Eleanor Clark Debra Clopton Gloria Clover Brandilyn Collins Mary Connealy Lyn Cote Kathryn Cushman Margaret Daley KM Daughters Susan Page Davis Mary Davis Janet Dean Megan DiMaria Brandt Do

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

Tabi socks, part deux

Captain's Log, Stardate 07.25.2008 (If you're on Ravelry, friend me! I'm camytang.) I made tabi socks again! (At the bottom of the pattern is the calculation for the toe split if you're not using the same weight yarn that I did for this pattern (fingering). I also give an example from when I used worsted weight yarn with this pattern.) I used Opal yarn, Petticoat colorway. It’s a finer yarn than my last pair of tabi socks, so I altered the pattern a bit. Okay, so here’s my first foray into giving a knitting pattern. Camy’s top-down Tabi Socks I’m assuming you already know the basics of knitting socks. If you’re a beginner, here are some great tutorials: Socks 101 How to Knit Socks The Sock Knitter’s Companion A video of turning the heel Sock Knitting Tips Yarn: I have used both fingering weight and worsted weight yarn with this pattern. You just change the number of cast on stitches according to your gauge and the circumference of your ankle. Th

「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

Frogs

I know I blogged about this on my Writing Diary Blog , but I don’t think I blogged about this here. I read a few writing and productivity books, and I’ve been trying to form better daily habits. The problem is that my self-discipline is very bad. As in, embarrassingly bad. One of my goals has been to form a better writing habit. Since I’m a full-time writer, I already write every day, but I think there are things I can do to tweak my schedule so that I can be able to focus better when I write. I tend to get distracted by the thought of things I need to do that day which I haven’t done yet. I don’t know why my brain is like this, but I haven’t been able to break this tendency. So for example, while I’m writing, I’ll suddenly think about the fact that today’s the day when I need to change the bathroom towels, or mop the kitchen floor, or change the bedsheets. It’ll distract me for a few moments before I tell myself I’ll do it later and I need to focus on writing now. Then a few