Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Showing posts with label France. Show all posts

Monday, September 28, 2015

"Finding Gabriel" by Rachel L. Demeter

EXCERPT and GIVEAWAY
Finding Gabriel
by Rachel L. Demeter


Finding Gabriel is currently on tour with Reading Addiction Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other participating blogs as well.


For another book by this author, please check out my blog post on The Frost of Springtime.

Description
Colonel Gabriel de Laurent departed for the war intending to die.
After a decade of bloodstained battlegrounds while fighting in Napoleon's army, Gabriel returns to the streets of Paris a shattered and haunted soul. Plagued by inner demons, he swallows the barrel of his flintlock pistol and pulls the trigger.
But fate has a different plan.
Ariah Larochelle is a survivor. Orphaned at twelve and victim to a devastating crime, she has learned to keep her back to walls and to trust no one. But when she finds a gravely injured soldier washed up on the River Seine, she's moved by compassion. In spite of her reservations, she rescues him from the icy water and brings him into her home.
Now scarred inside and out, Gabriel discovers a kindred spirit in Ariah - and feelings he imagined lost forever reawaken as he observes her strength in the face of adversity. But when Ariah's own lethal secrets unfold, their new love is threatened by ancient ghosts. Can Gabriel and Ariah find hope in the wreckage of their pasts - or will the cycle of history repeat again?
Perfect for fans of Gaelen Foley's Lord of Ice and Judith James's Broken Wing, Finding Gabriel features all the dark romance, searing passion, and historical intrigue of The Phantom of the Opera and Les Misérables.


Book Trailer



Excerpt
Ariah stood beneath the immeasurable night sky as she admired the breathtaking view. She lost herself within the constellations, allowing those luxurious diamond strands to coil around her heart. Numberless stars reflected within the Seine’s glassy surface and set the water afire. Breathing deeply, Ariah reached out and folded her hands atop the stone balustrade.
This is where she’d found him. Her heart picked up speed as memories of that fateful night invaded her mind and body. Down below, water lapped against the embankment and infused the atmosphere with a soothing lull. A flashback of Gabriel’s motionless form materialized within the shadows ... and Ariah’s chest constricted as she relived his every kiss and touch.
Then –
A gentle pressure whispered against her back. Gabriel’s unique aroma filled her spirit while strong arms enfolded her from behind. Somehow, some way, she’d known he’d be here tonight.
She sighed deeply and relaxed within his protective embrace. One hand lost itself in her curls and delicately sifted through the strands; the other applied subtle pressure to the base of her spine in a ghostlike caress. Breathless and at peace, she spiraled into a decadent trance. She drank in each sensation ... the mesmerizing caress of his fingertips against her scalp, the wind’s crisp breath, the Seine’s haunting lamentations ...
Gabriel brushed away the swarm of curls, exposing her ear to the night, and breathed against the fine cartilage. This was the moment she’d feared for weeks – the moment of their parting. Then he sang to her – his voice rich, warm, and sultry, and all other thoughts fell away.
“The gentle breath of winter sings,
It cools my brow and furls my wings.
And when the dusk at last descends,
I shall keep my hope, steel my heart, for never will thy love depart.
Now you are come all my grief is gone,
Let us forget those nights that never dawned.”
The rich cadence of his voice seduced her into calmness. Fighting to hold back tears, she rotated in his arms, never once leaving the security of his embrace. Indeed, she’d stay with him until the very end – and they wouldn’t part a moment sooner. She tilted her chin up and met his expressive gaze. The nearby oil lamp shone brightly behind Gabriel, silhouetting his strained features. She directed his body to the side, needing to see his eyes, directing the shadows from his face.
“You remember.”
Gabriel shook his head while a riot of emotions crossed his features. “I shall never forget.”


Praise for the Book
"Finding Gabriel was unlike any books I've read before. It was exquisite, personal, emotional and I just loved it so much. It took me a good six days to finish it but it never got boring. All I know is, I want to read more by this author! [...] The writing also was gorgeous. Actually, that was one of my favorite parts of this book and I was practically inhaling every sentence because it was written in such a beautiful way. I'm definitely keeping an eye on the author's future books. I just want more stories like this!" ~ Amazon Customer
"I was transported to a time and place that felt bleak, dark and raw. Rachel Demeter has reason to be proud of her work, as she breathes life ad hope into two lost souls fighting for reasons to go on and thrive. Not your typical bosom-heaving romance, this feels like a genuine piece of history shared in contemporary times. [...] I received an ARC copy from Rachel Demeter in exchange for my honest review. Highly recommended!" ~ Dii
"A fantastic, raw and powerful novel from start to finish. I finished this novel in one sitting as I did not want to put it away. I was so engrossed in Ariah and Gabriel’s story, and how they overcame their pain to move forward not happy and blissfully but at peace with all around them and their own personal demons. While it has some sexy and romantic scenes, I love how the focus is on the characters and their personal scars from their past that they must deal with." ~ Carla
"Reading this story was like being in a raging storm of emotions. My emotions went from weeping uncontrollably from the gut wrenching pain these two endured, to smiling from ear to ear with the kindness and love they had for each other. This story shows that true love heals all. This book takes you on of journey of tragedy, loss and a all healing powerful love. This author is a definite one click buy!" ~ tjarch
"In my eyes being introduced to new and gifted writers to read is one of the greatest joys in life so I cannot express how excited I was to come across Rachel L. Demeter. The buzz around her did not do justice to the actual experience of reading one of her books. While her talent was hinted at in comparisons to other writers of note her writing genius is uniquely her own. Eloquent writing paired with detailed research, Finding Gabriel is an exceptional work! [...] Profoundly beautiful, Rachel L. Demeter's writing will saturate you in emotion and persist in your imagination far beyond when you have finished this extraordinary story." ~ Amazon Customer


About the Author
Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and high school sweetheart of eleven years. She enjoys writing dark, edgy romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and examine the redeeming power of love.
Imagining stories and characters has been Rachel’s passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mom would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul.
Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness.
Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words.


Giveaway
Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card and three signed The Frost in Springtime bookmarks.



Links





Sunday, May 18, 2014

"The Frost of Springtime" by Rachel L. Demeter

EXCERPT and GIVEAWAY
The Frost of Springtime
by Rachel L. Demeter


The Frost of Springtime is currently on tour with Enchanted Book Promotions. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.


Description
To rescue her was to rescue his own soul.
On a cold Parisian night, Vicomte Aleksender de Lefèvre forges an everlasting bond with a broken girl during her darkest hour, rescuing her from a life of abuse and misery. Tormented by his own demons, he finds his first bit of solace in sheltering little Sofia Rose.
But when Aleksender is drawn away by the Franco-Prussian war, the seasons pass. And in that long year, Sofia matures into a stunning young woman - a dancer with an understanding of devotion and redemption far surpassing her age.
Alongside his closest friend, Aleksender returns home to find that “home” is gone - replaced by revolution, bloodshed, betrayal - and a love always out of reach. Scarred inside and out, he’s thrust into a world of sensuality and violence - a world in which all his hours have now grown dark, and where only Sofia might bring an end to the winter in his heart.
Inspired by the 1871 Paris Commune, The Frost of Springtime is a poignant tale of revolution, redemption, and the healing power of love.


Book Trailer




Excerpt
Bête Noire’s walls shook as a gust of wind moaned in the distance. Soft and shameful sobs accompanied the ambiance with haunting precision. The child sank to the crutch of her knees—defeated, starved for food and warmth—as if she might escape the world in that way.
Moved by her humiliation far more than he dared admit, the dark stranger removed his bowler hat and crouched to her level. He replaced the hat after running an unsteady hand through his hairline. His chest lurched as the child adjusted the torn tatters of her clothing. Swishing off his frock coat, he draped the material over her body like it was a security blanket.
She grasped the wool with her good hand, plummeted onto her bottom, and pulled both legs against her chest. Her face sank from eye-line as she hid below a fortress of upright knees. Tiny and perfectly helpless, the abundance of thick folds seemed to devour her whole.
“Cold night,” he whispered.
“Thank you, m-monsieur.”
The man softened at the tragic sight that lay before him; icicles, which had too long clung to his chest, deftly thawed and melted away. He felt an incredible pain, a sincere compassion and aching sympathy, which he’d believed he no longer possessed. Despite his better judgment and a lifetime of indifference, his heart broke.
Damnation. He longed to turn his cheek in apathy and disgust. He yearned to feel numb to the girl’s pain and loneliness. He wanted to hate the child—to despise the child—for having invaded his sole sliver of peace: darkness.
Tucked within a foreign part of his heart, only emptiness had ever existed. A terrible and twisted emptiness. And for seventeen of his twenty-seven years, he’d filled that internal void with darkness.
Eyes of emerald locked with eyes of sapphire, each pair searching the secrets of its counterpart’s soul. He could sense the girl’s will to live, to simply survive the world and all of its cruelties, as if it was a tangible thing. And, within that lucid moment, a recollection from his own childhood emerged. The emptiness eased and lifted. His heart pounded as a montage of horrors resurrected—just barely …
A whisper of half-sobbed words: “Life is pain. Love is a pretty lie.” Empty and burning tears. A seductive glint. Steel, cold and rusted, plunged into a slate of creamy flesh. A distorted prayer: “Do not love the world or anything in it. The world and its desires pass away. But those who do the will of God shall live forever.” A moment of silence followed by a pair of beautiful, breathless lungs—
The jumbled tangle of memories disappeared as quickly as they’d come. Once more the emptiness returned. But one truth remained—long ago, something had happened. Something unutterable. Something his conscience and consciousness had chosen to forget.
And then, miraculously, for the first conceivable time in the man’s life, a ray of hope shined through his darkness.
Perhaps the girl could help him find himself.
Perhaps two orphaned souls could unite as one.
Consumed by his sudden revelation, the dark figure lifted his hand and attempted to brush a stray curl from her eyes. Jerking free of his touch, she flinched out of his reach—just as he’d expected she might—behaving like a mongrel who’d only known beatings.
He retreated with a dejected sigh and shook his face. “Might I know your name, ma petit?”
“Sofia …” Her voice was little more than a whisper and a true breath of fresh air.
“Good to know you, my dearest Sofia.” The man inclined his head, gave a charmingly crooked grin, and clasped a palm to his heart. Aware that everything had changed, it beat against his ribcage at a rapid pace, the rhythm hard and strong. “I am Alek.”



Praise for the Book
"I am astonished at this being Rachel L. Demeter’s debut work, for in form and style, it is very much a tour de force. A riveting story of love and courage in the aftermath of a brutal war, the author brilliantly juxtaposes the hazing splendor of French nobility and the impassioned elegance of two people in love, despite all the world’s oppositions. The title is, in a sense, a representation of change: the beginning of a new spring with La Belle Époque and the transition into a new era, for the world and our protagonists. The wistful loveliness of the setting paints a picture of a crying France, blending in with the dynamic romance perfectly. Or rather, it does not merely blend in the background as much as glitters like the brightest jewel, shining with a vibrancy that makes one want to relieve the halcyon days of grand old Paris. I was captivated by the setting, the lush writing of Rachel L. Demeter, and the subtle expressiveness of the characters, which all compelled me to research more of the historical background, of the 1871 Paris Commune, through which this story is made more infinitely dearer." ~ Buried Under Romance
"We are in awe. The Frost of Springtime is a MUST HAVE! Despite that we loved the true facts, we fell instantly in love with the story. It was dark, emotionally devastating, and sensual. The innocence between the two main characters was beautiful and their love grew so strong throughout the story with such grace. One of us even cried while reading The Frost of Springtime. We loved the cover, we loved the writing style, and we adored the characters. We fell in love, really hard." ~ Divas Book Blog



"This novel is intricately detailed and wonderfully written! Opening with a heartbreaking scene, I was immediately drawn to the story of Aleksender and his Sofia. Of course, as the story moved on, other enchanting characters helped to make this poignant book complete. The author has blended historical facts with fiction skillfully, and presented several narratives flawlessly. It’s beautiful! I loved it!." ~ Romancebookworm’s Reviews
"I absolutely love this book. The Frost of Springtime shows how love and tragedy go hand in hand and that love can actually be more powerful than anything. I have found that most books do not hit this point right on the nail like this one does. It’s a Historical Romance and let me just tell you this is one book I couldn’t put down." ~ Magic Within The Pages
“WOW!! The Frost of Springtime is a powerful, epic love story unlike anything I’ve ever read before. The emotional and visual/sensory depth is astounding. I felt Aleksender and Sofia’s connection from beginning to end. Aleksender’s path to healing was at times breathtaking and heartbreaking. This is a hero who loves his woman with every last breath, every fiber of his being… and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her. AMAZING cast of secondary characters as well… a 'villain' who actually leaves you morally torn! Beautifully written (loved the vivid imagery and descriptions!), dark, unusual, rich with history, epic scope, and a soul deep love that only comes once in a lifetime… Brava!!!" ~ Sivonna, an advanced reader



About the Author
Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and high school sweetheart of ten years. She enjoys writing dark, edgy romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and examine the redeeming power of love.
Imagining stories and characters has been Rachel’s passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mom would jot them down for her. She has a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether sculpting the protagonist or antagonist, she always ensures that every character is given a soul.
Rachel strives to intricately blend elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some common themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness. Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words. The Frost in Springtime is her first novel.



Giveaway
Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card.

Links



Friday, March 21, 2014

"Stranded in the Seychelles: Teachers in Paradise" by Bev Spicer

NEW RELEASE
Stranded in the Seychelles:
Teachers in Paradise
by Bev Spicer


Bev Spicer's latest memoir, Stranded in the Seychelles, has just been released. Also available: Bunny On a Bike and One Summer in France (read my earlier blog post).



Description
Bev and Carol are back and looking for a new adventure!
This time, they fly off to the Seychelles to teach students of the National Youth Service. They are provided with a beautiful house on Mahé and commute to work on the tiny island of Ste. Anne in a World War II landing craft.
Lush, sunny and colourful, the Seychelles is the perfect setting for two girls on the lookout for inspiration and fresh experiences, so why not join them? See the sights, find out about life in the Indian Ocean, and enjoy the madness.
Fuelled by fish, rice and South African rum, Bev and Carol tour the islands on an ancient motorbike in their free time, discovering paradise and what lies beyond. There are giant spiders, heart-stopping bus rides and a tangled expat community, against a volatile political backdrop.
Put your feet up and dive into Bev and Carol’s chaotic world, where common sense and logic are often at odds. You’ll see what makes them tick and probably have a lot of laughs along the way. Stranded in the Seychelles? Could it be this much fun?

Excerpt
Chapter One
Older but not wiser, we perused the Times Educational Supplement for jobs, on a dull afternoon in August at my house in Milton Keynes.  Carol was back, and suddenly, living in Milton Keynes didn’t seem to matter as much!  My bosom buddy had spent the previous year working in a school in the Himalayas, and had finally flown back to somewhere nearer sea level. 
Outside, nothing was happening.  Inside, the walls remained perfectly aligned and painted magnolia. Carol sighed and looked out of the large, double-glazed window onto a square patch of lawn penned in by a chest-high, cheap, wooden fence.  “How can you live in a place called Pennyland?”
As I didn’t know the answer to this question, I hedged.  “It’s only a name.”
“It’s a stupid name.”
I had to admit that Carol was right. It couldn’t have helped that she had been used to living in a mountaintop retreat in Tibet, above the clouds and as remote as you can get from affordable housing, inadequate porches and gas central heating.
“How do you stand it?”
“It’s not that bad,” I said, half-heartedly.
A man cycled past.  “Christ!  It’s worse than science fiction!”
Baffled as I was by this particular insight, I laughed, and Carol gave me a look that I recognised instantly.  It was a look that said it was time to set out again into the world, united against the banal, the drab and the superficial, determined to have some fun and wreak some havoc.  I went back to the newspaper and kicked off with something contentious:
“There’s one here for a maths teacher in Beijing. I could be the stay-at-home housewife.”
“No thanks,” replied Carol.
“Too much of a culture shock?  Don’t want the Saturday morning military training?”
“Nah.  Can’t stand Chinese food.  All those wriggly bits. And oyster sauce – can’t eat oysters since Alice!”
“In Wonderland?”
“Yeah.”
“The Walrus and the Carpenter?”
“The very same.  Poor little oysters…”
I realised that, cartoon horror apart, and allowing for Carol’s sketchy knowledge of proper Chinese cuisine, this would be a deal-breaker.  Food was top priority.  Followed closely by sunshine, a great beach and a good library.  Good looking, intelligent men of independent means were also a consideration.
“No blokes there, either.  Too short.  Too Chinese.”
I could not argue, although I would not have put my feelings in quite the same way.  Carol spoke her mind, whilst I generally harboured my sharp-edged opinions.  I didn’t mention the fact that, this time, she was indulging in a stereotypical assessment of a nation containing over one hundred million people, not all of whom would be too short or, indeed, too Chinese. 
“What about this one?” I suggested.  “English teachers required by the Seychelles government.  Sounds interesting.”
“Aren’t they in the Indian Ocean?” Carol sat back in her chair and poked a finger into her ear.  She was as beautiful as ever.  How I had missed her! 
“I believe that is correct, you lovely tart,” I replied, pretty sure that Carol knew a lot more about the Seychelles than she was letting on.
“Capital?” she asked.
“Mahé.”
“Climate?”
“Tropical.”
“Food?”
“Fish. Creole style.”
“Chips?”
“I think it’s more likely to be rice,” I said, although I was not entirely sure.
“Fish and rice with curry sauce!”
“We can make our own chips,” I said, reasonably.  “Just need a chip pan and some Trex.”
“Granted.” Carol chewed the pencil we were using to circle ads.  It had also served as a coffee spoon and more recently, to kill an ant.
“Shall I read the rest of it?”
“Don’t see why not,” she said. 
“The National Youth Service of the Seychelles seeks-
“The National what!”
“Youth Service.  Must be something like the Department of Education.”
“Doesn’t sound like the Department of Education.  Go on. Let’s hear it.”
“The National Youth Service of the Seychelles seeks qualified teachers of ESL to instruct secondary school students on the island of Ste. Anne.”
“Never heard of it.  There’s Mahé and Praslin and some kind of bird island.  Let me see.”  Carol grabbed the paper. “Twelve-month contracts. Flights and accommodation provided. Interviews to be held in London on 14th/15th August.” She closed the newspaper and got up.  “Want a cuppa?”
I followed my friend into the kitchen, thinking that the interviews would be at the end of the week, in three days’ time.
“Where d’you keep the biscuits, you bugger?  Hope you’re not still buying those Poptarts!” Carol was opening cupboards, rummaging.
“There are some Jammy Dodgers in the cutlery drawer,” I told her.  The mention of Poptarts had brought back a momentary nostalgia.
She eyed me and I eyed her back.
“Are we going?” I asked.
“Book it, Danno,” she said.
***
We were not the kind of girls to pass up an opportunity like this.  We had been through university together and worked for Playboy in London, as blackjack dealers. After that, Carol had left England to sell encyclopaedias in Germany and had thrown it in after meeting a businessman at a party who offered her a job teaching English to Buddhist monks in the Himalayas.  I had gone on to work as a secretary in London at various establishments which were practised in the art of exploiting as little as possible of a person’s potential and where, at my lowest ebb, I had slavishly typed out legal contracts for solicitors who patronised both their staff and their clients.  Later, I had worked for a very nice family with a business just off Oxford Street, in a small office, up some rickety stairs, where I had learned all there was to know about high-tensile low-density bin bags (didn’t take long), including how to fold them and label them, before sending them off with a quote for anything from a couple of hundred to tens of thousands.   And, after just over a year of knowing that I didn’t want to be in plastic for the rest of my days, I had applied for and, to my utter amazement, been accepted by Queens’ College to do a postgraduate teaching certificate at Cambridge University.  I subsequently took up my first post in Milton Keynes, where I discovered that I was no good at controlling a class of secondary school kids who didn’t care about Keats, and I gradually came to realise that the next proper adventure was long overdue.  All I had needed was the return of my best friend and sparring partner.
Carol had descended from the mountains under slightly mysterious circumstances, which she refused to divulge, but which had probably involved some kind of extra-curricular activity with one of her students.  She had telephoned me to say that she wanted to come and stay for a while. So, with my probationary year as a very eager, but more or less ineffectual English teacher at Stantonbury Campus mercifully completed, and with no one begging me to stay, there was nothing to stop us, apart from fear of the unknown and crushing financial limitations.  We were in the market for some excitement and risk.  A teaching job in the Indian Ocean, with all expenses paid, seemed an opportunity too good to miss. 
We looked up trains to London and, in the meantime, found out that the Seychelles was a group of volcanic and coral islands stuck in the middle of nowhere, with a language that was based on French, due to the fact that they had been colonised by… France.  Following this, the islands had been subjected to British rule, before gaining independence in 1976. I wondered vaguely whether we would be welcomed by the locals, until Carol pointed out that anything “we” had done to them was bound to be better than the treatment they would have received at the hands of our closest allies, the French, who, according to Carol, had used the inhabitants as slaves to work on their plantations and probably taught them to roll their Rs. 
***
I dialled the number in the advertisement and asked to be put through to Roseline Bananne.

Review
Now that I've read all three of Bev Spicer's humorous memoirs about her adventures with her best friend Carol, I think I like this latest one the best. Stranded in the Seychelles has all the irreverence and joie de vivre of One Summer in France and Bunny On a Bike, but there's a maturity in this one that adds poignancy and richness. The lovely-but-a bit-silly students and don't-call-ME-an-adult career girls are pushing thirty when they take jobs teaching English as a second language in a lush tropical nation that is newly independent and not at all sure about the form that independence should take.
Spicer does a wonderful job evoking the spectacular natural beauty of the Seychelles, but she doesn't skimp on the grimmer side of life--huge spiders, fatally curious lizards, and waters as shark-infested as they are beautiful. The humans she and Carol meet are treated with the same objectivity. And there are plenty of colorful characters: a gorgeous and pathologically unfaithful Swede who Bev can't help but find attractive, an English couple whose marriage re-defines the term passive-aggressive, a Bed and Breakfast owner with an interesting take on food recycling, and a maniac bus driver who nearly brings our heroines' lark to an abrupt ... and permanent ... end.
Funny as the book is, it also touches upon the harsh reality of life in a poor, politically unstable country. This reality hits Bev and Carol hard at times, such as when they find their movements curtailed and their lesson plans censored. Unlike in their previous adventures, they can't just decide that they've had enough and go home. Not with a one-year contract and a disordered government that does very little and that "little" at a snail's pace.
It was amusing that, as I reached the end of the book, I found myself lamenting the same thing as the author--that this might be the last Bev and Carol romp. There was a hint (tiny but enough to hang a hope on) that there's at least one more to come. One with an Asian flavor. Fingers crossed!

About the Author
Bev Spicer is the author of five ebooks and two paperbacks. She also writes under the pen name B. A. Spicer.
Bev was born in a small market town in the Midlands, daughter to an observer for the Royal Air Force and her mother, a local beauty queen.
She was educated at Queens' College, Cambridge and became a lecturer at Anglia Ruskin University in 1997 moving to live in France with her husband and two of her children ten years later, where she writes full-time.
She is widely read and has traveled extensively, living in Crete, where she taught English and learned to speak Greek, and in the Seychelles, where she worked for the government and co-designed materials which were used to teach at secondary school level.
She is the author of the humorous memoirs Bunny on a Bike, One Summer in France, and Stranded in the Seychelles.

Links