A Page Straight From...

CREOLE HEARTS  BY JANE TOOMBS

The spot where she met Philippe, where they lay together, was a tiny knoll of higher ground, surrounded by water oak and tupelo gum and hidden by a tangle of vines. The gums were barren of leaves now, but the rise was still concealed by the underbrush, 

Today she didn’t dismount to open the secret passageway and lead Empress inside. Instead she sat for a moment thinking of Philippe 

Guinevere ran to the bushed ahead, smelling the ground nearby. She growled and the mare stomped and snorted. 

From behind the vines came an answering nicker. Madeline's eyes brightened. He'd come after all!

She slid off the mare and pulled back the vines, leading Empress through the tunnel of green and yellow growth into a tiny clearing. Guinevere dashed in ahead of them and began barking excitedly.

Madelaine stopped short. A huge white horse confronted her, his neck smeared with rusty stains. Guinevere circled warily about something on the ground beside the horse, whining.

"Oh!" The exclamation was jolted from Madelaine, her hands flying to her mouth too late to hold it back.

A black man lay unmoving in the yellow grass. Blood soaked his blue shirt and trousers and pooled on the ground beside him. Near his feet—Madelaine bit her lip to prevent herself from screaming—was a severed arm laying palm outstretched, a long bladed knife next to it. Unmistakably he'd cut off his own arm just below the elbow.

When Guinevere nudged the arm with her nose, bile rose to Madelaine's throat. Hurriedly she called the dog to her. She knew the man had to be a rebel slave. She must gallop back to La Belle and . . .

He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes glazed and dull from pain and loss of blood. She saw that he was a giant of a man, and noticed with dismay the tattoo marks on his cheeks. She recognized him.

The black she'd danced with at the voodoo.

He was too weak to stop her, she could easily mount Empress and rush from the clearing, but Madelaine didn't move. There was something in his eyes—not a plea for help, not a threat, but something she'd seen in the glare of captured hawks. A fierce pride.

Had he been a candio, a chief, in Africa? They'd hang him. Already captured black rebels dangled from trees across the river as a warning to the other slaves. 

Madelaine swallowed. Slowly she approached him, averting her eyes from the severed arm. His head dropped back, his eyes closed. She was frightened, but something drove her on.

She could see that he'd tried to bandage the stump of his right arm, but had apparently been too weak to complete the grisly task. The rag was soggy with blood. 

Madelaine took a deep breath, fighting to control nausea. She retreated behind Empress and lifted up her riding skirt to tear at her petticoat. The cotton was too strong for her to rip. Gagging, she retrieved the black's cane knife with its discolored blade and slashed at her petticoat, tearing a wide strip from the bottom.

She wrapped the white cotton around the stump, seeing with horror that the bloody tissue looked charred. She pulled the bandage tight, remembering how Odalie always applied pressure to a wound to stop the bleeding. 

The black groaned once, but showed no other sign of consciousness. She used the knife again to cut the ends of the cotton into small strips, tying them around the bandage to hold it on.

Blood oozed from the stump, staining the white cotton. As she put the knife on the ground, she noticed that its blade was blackened rather than blood stained. She saw the remains of a small fire. Understanding flooded through her. He'd deliberately seared the stump with the heated blade of his knife in an effort to stop the bleeding.

The severed arm caught her eye, and before she could wrench her gaze away, she saw why he'd cut it off. There was a terrible wound above the wrist where the ends of shattered bones protruded. 

She stood up, staring down at the black. He couldn't stay here, for surely Philippe would come—if not tomorrow, the next day. Besides, Guinevere knew he was here and Guy often took the dog out with him. The dog would likely lead her brother here, Madelaine decided. She knelt beside the man again and whispered into his ear.

"Candio" she said. "Candio, listen to me. You must listen. I'll bring food, a blanket. But then you must take your horse and find another hiding place. They will find you here."

She couldn't tell if he heard, or if he understood. His eyelids quivered, but he made no other move, no sound.

You can purchase this book at:  http://www.amazon.com/Creole-Hearts-ebook/dp/B00CHCALBM/ref=sr_1_5?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1370056500&sr=1-5&keywords=Jane+Toombs

Welcome, Jane Toombs

What did I know about Special Op Agents, Central American jungles or AK47s?  Nothing--that is until I did research.  Have I ever seen or felt a ghost? No. But others have and some have written about their experiences, so I can learn about ghosts from research. 

  As many other authors do, I enjoy research,  It becomes a sort of painless learning because what one is researching is usually an interesting subject  even if it wasn’t needed for a story.  I’ve heard a few authors say they hated to do it, but it is necessary.  Many of us go the other way and have to force ourselves not to do far more than we need for the book.

   Another research plus is you have this raft of material you can use for another book--or more--in due time.    

   Once I had the research done, I only needed to use  dribs and drabs of it for the prologue of Shadow On the Floor, the first book in my DEADLY DARKNESS SERIES.  But those small added details were important. Why?  Because readers start out by believing what happens in a story.  So, if they find no glaring errors, then tend to trust the author has everything right for the rest of the book.

   So, obviously, at any story’s beginning, every author must be sure all the details are correct.  In other words, Yes, the USA has had at one time or another, Special Ops Agents, in the jungles of Central America.  Yes, the jungles there look and sound like the story says.  Yes, AK47 fire is deadly and the kill rate is high.

    When we get to the ghosts, the going is easier,  There are so many variations of ghost sightings that I was able  to pick and choose the ones that fit best for my story.

   As for  the other three books of the series: Watcher  At The Door,  Terror From Before and Stranger On The Shore, the prologues in each are in that same jungle, but differ since they’re told from each one of the hero’s point of view, so the same research could be used.      The paranormal element in each book differs, so some research was necessary there.  But  the first chapter in each book begins with all the heroes no longer in the Agency and back in civilian life, and all of the books are set in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula where I live, I pretty much knew the different areas each wound up in.  Only when I set a story somewhere I’ve never lived or visited do I do intensive research.

   As for paranormal, I enjoy reading and writing it, so I do know write a lot of it.  Which means I’ve created my own version. of shapeshifters, witches, and vampires.  Once I pick a version I tend to stick with it--sort of like a brand.

   So in the second book, I had to do minimal research, since the paranormal element is a shapeshifter. Third book--death bird.  Never wrote about it, but did the research long ago since I knew I’d need it someday.  Fourth book--nanabots.  Yes, they do exist but researchers are still working on refining.  Well, mine are refined, but even the mad-doctor-type who created the ones I use, has no idea they can replicate themselves as needed. Can’t wait to write this one.

         SHADOW ON  THE FLOOR comes out June 2, 2011 from Red Rose Publishing.  My website will have a buy button.

www.JaneToombs.com

        

Blurb: A former special op agent turned lawyer, Dev's suspicious of Natalie, the young woman his cantankerous old uncle hires to help round the house. For one thing, how does she know how to step around, rather than on, the shadow that's
always stained the den floor?

What is Jane Toombs Thankful For?

I’m thankful:

That the Viking from my past found me when we both needed each other, and that we've  we’ve survived sixteen years together.

That my step-daughter and her husband recently bought a house in the same town we live in--I love them both dearly.

That I’m still in pretty good heath at eighty-three and that the docs have found a way to keep my vision good enough so that I can see to write and to read.

That the vet diagnosed and operated on our calico cat, Kinko’s cancer soon enough so she’s cured and still healthy at fifteen.

That I live across the street from my beloved Lake Superior.

That the Viking and I still have some old friends left alive and well that we can visit with.

That I have friends I’ve never met in person, but know and like from authors’ lists on the Internet.

That I still enjoy everything I’m able to do and am able to leave behind what I no longer can do with regrets, but no complaining.

That the world I know and love still hasn’t fallen apart.

And  last, but not least, I'm thankful that I still have people I can wish happy birthday to--like Ginger, whose birthday is tomorrow!

Jane

Find out more about Jane on her website.

Note from Ginger:  Jane is an inspiration and a role model.  I'm so impressed by her and I'm honored to have her on my blog.  I want to be like her when I grow up. *lol*

Welcome, Jane Toombs

 What Makes A Trilogy Different From A Series

I’ve been thinking about this lately and have come up with a few things a trilogy must have  that a series doesn’t need. First of all I expect a trilogy to have a demonstrable connection within the three books:

Either the same main characters throughout the three or secondary characters from the first book taking on major roles in the second and third books.

Or a single goal throughout the three books, such as a problem needing to be solved and finally is in the third. 

Or a specific setting that is the same for every main character in the three books. By specific I  mean something such as a haunted house or the actual area where the story takes place --an area that‘s at the core of the trilogy.

In other words, the three books need a close connection of some kind.

On the other hand, a series needs only to be loosely connected in some way.  That to me is the difference.  And yes, I write series, too.

But the above is why I created A Darkness Of Dragons as a trilogy, not  as a series.  My reasoning being that though each book has different  main characters they are, as secondary characters, in the first book, Also  each book contains the same goal, but it’s not reached until the third book. 
 

A Darkness of Dragons is being published by Devine Destinies. 

Dragon’s Pearl came out June 1.

Blurb: In Sixth Century Wales, Merlin steals magic from the Immortal Black Dragon to try to heal the dying King Arthur.  This fails, tainting some humans with dragon’s blood, and turns the Black Dragon against mankind. 

 To keep humanity safe, Merlin appoints a human Keeper, blood of his blood and Guardian, chosen from those who now have dragon’s blood.  These he teaches how to set wards to block the dragon’s evil, and warns the wards will need renewing.   As long as those from these two blood lines remain in Wales, the dragon is forced to stay in his mountain cave lair. 
  

 Today, after all descendents of these two blood lines have migrated to the United States, the Black Dragon’s lair is now deep within an abandoned copper mine in the wilderness of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  The wards are failing, but the modern descendents know little or nothing about the dragon or their duty.  Will its evil demolish mankind?  

Dragon’s Diamond will be out in July.

Blurb: A naked man regains consciousness on an unknown and isolated beach.  All he can remember is his first name--David.  He has no idea where he is or how he got here, nor does he remember who he is.  Even worse, he can’t remember what he is.  Unless he does, the fate of mankind is at risk…

Dragon’s Stone is currently being written, but I believe will also be out late in 2010. 

Blurb: Ellis and Gwen are distant cousins.  Both have dragon blood, but he isn’t the right body type to be a were-dragon, besides he carries an unknown dark trait from his father.  She’s a female.  No female has ever become a were-dragon.  Unless they both find a way to surmount these problems, The Immortal Black Dragon’s evil will be let loose to take over the world.

Don't Venture Into the Woods Alone

Multi, multi-published author Jane Toombs' website heading has more meaning than just the type of books she rights. Stroll along the wooded path in her story and see if you don't get a shiver or two:

At sixteen I was alone at a family cottage on the south shore of Lake Superior. Michigan's Upper Peninsula is, even today, a wilderness area, so there were many large trees around the cottage and between the road and the lake. As I often did I walked east along the beach searching for agates, all the way up to where the Mineral River flowed into the lake. Since this river was too wide and deep to wade across, I turned back, head down, still looking at the waterline for the translucent brown of an agate. I have
never been a fearful person, but suddenly I looked up at the woods, a shiver running along my back. There hadn't an unusual sound or anything to alert me. Nor did I see anything under the darkness of the big trees. But I KNEW something evil watched me. I ran as fast as I could back to the cottage and locked myself inside. Not then, or any time since did I believe it was a wild animal. At that time we did have bears and porcupines in the woods. (Wolves, coyotes and fishers came much later).

Something other than an animal watched me--I don't know what. That same year I came across a bear in our apple tree, and though scared, I didn't feel the sheer terror that came over me that day on the beach. I've never had the same feeling again--thank heaven.



Jane has authored more books than I can list here, so please visit her website and be as awed as I was at her achievements.