Epic Romances - now half-price or less!

If you love romances and historical fiction set in the distant, exotic past, then please take a look at these titles. They are now half-price or less and a real bargain.

"Blue Gold" is my epic historical adventure and romance set in ancient Egypt. It's well over 100,000 words and is now just $2.99 at Bookstrand.

 General Fiction, Mainstream Romance, Historical, Historical
Word Count: 124,400
Heat Level: SENSUAL
Published By: Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

This title is offered at a 50% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, February 14th.

[BookStrand Historical Romance]

Ancient Egypt, 1560 B.C.

Ruling Upper Egypt from Thebes, Pharaoh Sekenenre has many enemies. Aweserre, whose grandfather seized the crown of Lower Egypt. Kamose and Ahhotpe, his son and daughter, who plot to rule in his place. And, most dangerous, the storm-god Set.

It is a time of famine. To prosper a man must be civilized and ruthless. Ramose, priest and Vizier, is all of these. Kasa, a farmer, must learn to be like him to survive. Neith, wife of Ramose, is driven, first to drink, then to courage. Hathor, who killed her son, finds love, desertion, then a second chance at love. Tiyi, the gentle masseuse, is desired by many, but desires only one.

Watched by the gods of Egypt, the conflict reaches its climax in war. The pyramids, a thousand years old when the story begins, play a crucial part.

Behind all is the God Set, with his question: 'What am I?'

"The God Set or Seth in ancient Egyptian mythology is a mystery, represented by a strange animal. In 'Blue Gold' I set out to explore this mystery in the most direct and exciting way I could. And I've always loved the pyramids!"

You can see reviews and read excerpts of "Blue Gold" here

Do you love the lush, sensual world of ancient Rome? Then please consider my sexy erotic romance, "Escape to Love," a story I wrote to explore that world. From today it's only $0.99 from

Bookstrand. 

Severus is a slave, dragged from the fields to an uncertain future. Warned to expect no mercy from a mysterious young woman who comes to him in the night, he learns that his natural father is his owner, Calvus, and that he has a half-brother, Thallus.

Thallus has no sexual interest in women but he is desperate for an heir. Severus and Thallus' sexy young wife Lydia, whom Severus recognizes as the mystery woman who warned him, are sent to the family palace at Baiae and expected to breed.

Lydia, used to an unconsummated, loveless marriage, is intrigued by the handsome Severus and appalled by her husband's and father-in-law's treatment of him. She finds herself anticipating their lovemaking. She also wants to help Severus to escape because she knows that once he has served his purpose, Thallus and Calvus will never let him live.

They have just a month to escape.

 This title is offered at a 60% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, December 12th.
Reviews and excerpts here

If the world of ancient Rome and ancient Britain draws you, please try my novel, "Flavia's Secret," set in ancient Roman Bath.
 
"Flavia's Secret." $0.99 from Bookstrand.  A full length novel of 83,000 words for just 99 Cents!

How Far Dare You Trust Your Lover? Especially When He is Also Your Master? 

"Flavia's Secret" is a historical romance novel of 83,000 words. It's a sensual historical romance set in Roman Britain.

Spirited young scribe Flavia hopes for freedom. She and her fellow slaves in Aquae Sulis (modern Bath) have served the Lady Valeria for many years, but their mistress' death brings a threat to Flavia's dream: her new master Marcus Brucetus, a charismatic, widowed officer toughened in the forests of Germania. Flavia finds him overwhelmingly attractive but she is aware of the danger. To save her life and those of her 'family' she has forged a note from her mistress. If her deception is discovered, all the slaves may die.

For his part torn between attraction and respect, Marcus will not force himself on Flavia. Flavia by now knows of his grief over the deaths of his wife Drusilla and child. But how can she match up to the serene, flame-haired Drusilla?

As the wild mid-winter festival of Saturnalia approaches, many lives will be changed forever.

You can see reviews for "Flavia's Secret" and read excerpts here

Lindsay Townsend

Romances for Christmas - all at Bookstrand

Quite a few of my romances take place at Christmas-time, or over the Yule-time period. Why is that? Because Christmas is a time for families, for gifts, for beginnings, for magic. Here are my Romances at Christmas.

'The Snow Bride' is another historical romance. Christmas is fast approaching in this medieval tale of stolen brides and romance. Magnus and Elfrida must find them before the winter Solstice, the darkest time of the year.

If you fancy an 'older' kind of Christmas and Christmas celebrations, have a look at my 'Flavia's Secret'. This historical romance and mystery also has a climax during the ancient Roman Saturnalia - their pagan version of our Christmas.

You can learn more and read first chapters and reviews at my Bookstrand author page 

Happy Reading!
Lindsay Townsend http://www.lindsaytownsend.net

Fancy a sensual Roman Romance for Valentine's? Only 99c!

My sensual historical romance, 'Flavia's Secret' is only 99c from Bookstrand - and is offered there at an 83% discount until Feb 14th. Set against the backdrop of the ancient Roman Empire, it could be your perfect Valentine's Day read!

To tempt you, here's a new excerpt from my sensual historical romance, 'Flavia's Secret', which takes place in ancient Roman Britain. Flavia and Marcus are at a special, secret bathing place in Aquae Sulis (Ancient Roman Bath) ...

Excerpt.

‘Marcus, our clothes,’ she said, in almost a whisper, as he touched her waist and then her breast through the clinging wet linen.

‘We will change at home. Tell Hadrian and the others we were caught in a local storm.’ Marcus was already caught. More than the finest painting he had ever seen or hoped to produce, more than the most evocative of scents or music, Flavia stirred him, but at present it was his own earthier desire that was the problem. If she touched him at all, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to hold back.

‘Is this a dream?’ she murmured, capturing his mood exactly as she rested her head against his shoulder, giving in a moment to temptation, Marcus guessed. ‘Dreams can be dangerous.’

‘Not this one,’ Marcus reassured. He was determined it wouldn’t be. She was locked in his arms, standing with him in the middle of this amazing pool, with the steam from the waters releasing the perfume of the enclosing rosemary and lavender bushes. Their own private, secret bathing place.

‘I have wanted to do this for so long,’ he said, drawing off her belt, feeling her gown billowing around his legs.

‘Did you bathe Drusilla?’

Her face was burrowed against his chest, so Marcus couldn’t see her expression. ‘Little Aurelia used to join me in the barracks bath house in Germania,’ he answered truthfully. ‘She and the other youngsters used to play games in the baths.’

‘Did—’

‘No more talk.’ Marcus raised her chin with his thumb and kissed her, tumbling her clothes off with swift, sure hands. I have you now, little water goddess, and in your own element, he thought, his voice abandoned in the heat of the moment. She made his very skin crackle.

He wanted her to revel in every instant. The desire to honor and promote her enjoyment helped Marcus to control his own aching need as he gathered her back to himself with undisguised delight.

She had her eyes tightly closed again and he scooped water and lightly washed her face, smiling as her lips quivered and almost kissed his fingers. He sensed the conflict within her between pleasure and propriety and longed to prove to her what a sexy little creature she was, but he did not want her to feel ashamed afterwards by anything they did.

He stopped her hand as he felt her fingers on his belt. ‘Next time you can bathe me,’ he said, with a lightness he did not feel. He found her caresses far too erotic. ‘That is a promise.’

Her throaty giggle almost drove him over the edge. He felt her stand on top-toe and then, using the water itself as an added support, bounce lightly off her toes to snatch a kiss as light as the beat of a moth’s wing from his mouth.

‘Flavia!’ He lowered his head and kissed her back. The provoking wench was playing with fire.

‘We have no bathing oil,’ he said, keeping to the practical. ‘But I am sure we will manage.’

It was easy to begin with her hair, which fascinated him, and hard, too, when he really wanted to share so much more with her than bathing. But they were learning each other, he sensed, and he wanted her to trust him. That mattered above everything.

He released her plait, hearing her muttered apology that she was wearing none of the combs he had bought her and responding with a hand-ruffle of her loosened hair, saying, ‘Those are probably gone with the fire, but I will buy you more.’

‘I will buy my own,’ she shot back instantly. ‘From my wages.’

‘Well said!’ Marcus grunted, teasing her in return by tickling her under her arms until Flavia was giggling and thrashing against him, water splashing everywhere.

‘Stop, stop!’ she cried, almost hiccupping with laughter.

He spun her round, the water making her virtually weightless, and tucked an arm around her waist. ‘Now for your back,’ he said.

He stroked the water over her, gently kneading the muscles on either side of her spine, hearing her breath quicken each time his hand approached her waist. Thinking about the faint sprinkling of freckles by her right shoulder blade and how taut and fine her skin was, he washed her arms. She seemed to shimmer in his arms, the rising steam wreathing her face so that she almost appeared to be wearing a veil made of mist.

Torn between passion and a strange sense of mystery, Marcus again reminded himself what he was supposed to be doing. Although he had not yet touched certain areas, he could not resist kissing the back of her freshly-bathed neck.

‘And your legs.’

With her damp head pillowed against his middle ribs, he lifted her quickly so that her feet flipped off the pool bottom. He caught her right leg and brought it closer to the surface, the warm water adding a further dimension of sensation as he ran his hand slowly over her sleek calf and thigh. He was equally scrupulous in his attention to her left leg.

‘And the rest.’

Flavia shivered as he turned her round to face him, his legs threading through hers. She felt increasingly strange in this soft, mobile, warm medium of water, and not only because she was an indifferent swimmer.

‘Marcus.’ She tried to think of the words to express concern and found she had forgotten them. She was rapidly forgetting any sense of decorum. The secret pool itself added to her confusion, the scents of its lavender and rosemary bushes perfuming the air and its steam condensing and sparkling on Marcus’ long black eyelashes, dampening the ends of his tough, dark brown hair.

‘Close your eyes a moment,’ he said.

To show her trust in him, she did so, feeling the water rise and fall in a subtle lingering embrace against her breasts. Everything here was voluptuous; she could imagine losing track of time and place.

‘You can open them now,’ Marcus said against her ear.

He was naked—his tunic, belt and loin cloth mere shadows on the bottom of the pool. ‘I will fetch them up later.’ He smiled. ‘With your own.’

‘Oh!’ Flavia had forgotten that her gown and under-tunic languished under this flood of gently swirling, gray-green water. Above the water, his upper torso glistened in the spray and sun, the harsh contours of his face softened by the rising steam.

And by love, perhaps? Flavia hoped it was love, although when she recalled her jealous question about his bathing habits with his wife she was ashamed.

She gasped afresh as he took her hand and laid it against the middle of his chest. She could feel his strongly beating heart, the pulse increasing as her fingers moved, almost of her own volition, touching his bronzed skin below and above the water. She found herself smiling at her own exploration.

He touched her in return. Gathering water and allowing it to run through his fingers, he bathed her breasts and her trim, flat stomach. The water trickled between her breasts like the gentlest and warmest of rain-showers as his hand followed, defining every curve.

‘Marcus!’ She felt to be splitting in two between shock and delight. She twisted in his arms, shy and at the same time proud, because he made her feel beautiful, desirable.


To read more, please see my 'Flavia's Secret' - now only 99c at Bookstrand.

For more details of my ancient world historical romances, please see my Bookstrand author page:
http://www.bookstrand.com/lindsay-townsend

Or go to my website: http://www.lindsaytownsend.net/
http://www.twitter.com/lindsayromantic

Best wishes, Lindsay Townsend

An early Christmas present? 'Flavia's Secret' free at Bookstrand

Bookstrand have Flavia's Secret on offer as a free ebook from today until Valentine's Day. If you haven't tried one of my books yet, here's a chance!

For details of the book and the free download, go to:
http://www.bookstrand.com/flavias-secret .

New 'Christmas' Excerpt from 'Flavia's Secret'.

Here's a new excerpt from my historical romance, FLAVIA'S SECRET, set in Roman Britain in AD206. In it, the hero Marcus finally admits the truth about himself, and other things....

This scene takes place during the ancient Roman fesitval of the Saturnalia - the Roman 'Christmas'.
EXCERPT

He released her hands, standing looking down at her, nervously scratching the blue-black stubble on his chin. ‘My mother is like you,’ he said finally. ‘A Celt. She was my father’s slave-housekeeper. He bought her to care for his sons, my half-brothers, when his first wife died. When she became pregnant with me, he married her.

‘So you see,’ he said harshly, ‘I am not a pure Roman. Nor a pure Celt. I am neither.’

‘You are both.’ Flavia took hold of his clenched fingers and rubbed and kissed them. She could feel the pain and tension in him, see the dark sense of shame staining his tanned, hawkish face. Marcus, whom she had once thought so Roman! She had already guessed as much about his heritage but now that Marcus had admitted it, this was another bond between them. Please let him see it, Flavia prayed.

‘No one who truly knows you will ever be anything less than proud and impressed,’ she said softly. ‘And we may be kin, your mother and I.’

Marcus straightened, staring over her head at some distant point, his blue eyes unseeing. ‘My father freed my mother by the terms of his marriage to her. But he was possessive. I always thought him so. He never gave her the choice. He didn't free her first, before he married her.’

He sighed, his tense strong body stiffening further. ‘I know my mother would have liked the choice. She told me so. I think she deserved to be given the choice, except my father was too afraid that he would lose her if he freed her first. I know my mother has always regretted that.’

He closed his eyes briefly, reopening them as Flavia said, ‘Go on, Marcus. Tell me the rest.’

‘That is all there it is.’ Marcus shook his head. ‘I am the half-breed son of a slave. A half-Roman who has never fitted in and who does not want to climb the Imperial ladder any more. I would like to stay here, in Aquae Sulis. Be a father to Hadrian, who reminds me so much of myself at the same age. Learn to farm Lady Valeria’s country estate and trade and continue to help the people here who look to me as their patron and protector.’

‘Then why not stay?’ Flavia whispered.

Her heart seemed to turn right over in her breast at the look of longing he gave her then.

‘Because I want more.’ He stared at her hands, holding one of his. ‘I want my free-woman scribe as my love and true companion. I love you, Flavia. I love you as I loved Drusilla and little Aurelia, with all my heart.’

He touched her face with his free hand. ‘I grew to love my wife and child, but you, little water-goddess, you enchanted me at once. Did you not see this? Each time we made love, I thought you would know.’

‘You never said,’ Flavia stammered, caught somewhere between wonder and jubilation.

‘I wanted you to be free first, to be used to being free. I didn't want my love to be a burden, an obligation. I was not sure if you felt the same way as I do—people say “I love you,” in the heat of passion. I hoped and trusted that it was more than the newness of love-making on your part, but I was not sure. Only a man like Lucius Maximus would be sure! And I wanted you to know who I was, and I wanted you to have the choice. I still do.’

Marcus knelt in the snow so that their faces were almost level and he had to look up to her. He moved his hand in hers so that her fingers rested on his palm, so that they touched but he was not grasping.

‘Will you do me the honor, the great honor of becoming my wife? Will you make me the happiest man of this Saturnalia and for all festivals to come? Will you marry me, Flavia? A half-Roman youngest son with a tiny estate in provincial Britannia and a young adopted son to care for and raise?’

‘Yes.’ Flavia cast her arms about him, hugging his head on her breast. ‘Yes to everything! Yes!’

Snow had begun falling again but Flavia and Marcus, locked in each other’s embrace, were aware of nothing outside of themselves.

‘I love you, Flavia, my little scribe who taught me that not all desk-people are to be mistrusted.’

‘Certainly not!’

‘I am so happy.’

‘So am I, Marcus. I love you.’

‘I love you,’ Marcus said again, kissing her and drawing her up with him as he rose to his feet, lifting her high in his arms. ‘I love you so much. When can we marry?’

‘My choice?’ Flavia asked, light-headed with delight.

‘Your choice.’

‘What about your family?’

‘My parents and half-brothers can visit us here. As for their approval of you—’ Marcus looked grim for a moment. ‘They had better.’ His face cleared. ‘But they will adore you, as I do. I know they will.’

‘Then soon, please.’ Flavia felt herself blushing as she wondered if she sounded too eager. ‘I would like Julia Sura to be at our wedding, and Pompey. Hadrian, of course, and the others. It can be a double celebration!’

‘Your freedom and your marriage?’ Marcus asked quizzically, but Flavia was too happy to care about his teasing.

‘Our marriage and Hadrian’s adoption as our son,’ she answered promptly. She loved the boy and knew Marcus felt the same.

‘The first of our many children, eh?’

Flavia nodded, thinking of dark-haired sons and daughters with blue eyes exactly like their father. ‘I hope that is soon, too,’ she said.

Marcus chuckled and set her back lightly on the horse, grasping the reins to lead the stallion through the streets. He glanced up at her, sitting eagerly forward, her blonde hair threatening to escape its plaits as ever and her lips and cheeks glowing against the whiteness of the snow. He thought of a daughter with her coloring, as fair as little Aurelia had been, and felt no pain, only a flood of happy memories that he would share, and a rising excitement.

‘I think our lad Hadrian will have more sisters and brothers to play with,’ he said, giving Flavia’s left foot a playful tug. ‘And as you say, soon.’

‘You are sure?’

‘Very sure, little Briton! Trust me.’

I do, Flavia thought. Free, proud and happy, she and her husband-to-be turned into another street and joined a throng of merry-makers celebrating the Saturnalia in the snowy, lively city of Aquae Sulis. Their home.



You can read more about Flavia's Secret here:

http://lindsaysbookchat.blogspot.com/2008/04/flavias-secret.html

Best wishes, Lindsay
Lindsay Townsend, historical romance, http://www.lindsaytownsend.net/

The paranormal in my fiction

Paranormal elements creep into almost all of my fiction. Why? Because eerie, hair standing up on the back of the neck moments do happen in life, Also because I place my characters into strange situations and unusual settings, where their senses are heightened to an almost supernatural state.
In real life, people can experience extraordinary things. A woman I know of was passing a man on a staircase and a thought entered her mind: this is the man you are going to marry. She dismissed the idea as absurd - but it happened and they are still married. In life, people under stress can do extraordinary, almost superhuman things. The woman after a car crash lifting an engine block to free her trapped child beneath. We can all experience feelings of disquiet, of something being 'off'. We can all have dreams which can stalk us.
This is very much the stuff of fiction. Romance especially lends itself to the paranormal and supernatural. When we are in love we feel to be in a transfigured state: all senses and emotions are heightened. In addition, I write romantic suspense, where my characters are in danger and those warning senses we have are on high alert. I also write romance set in the past, at times in the far distant past, where beliefs in spirits, strange creatures, omens and gods were part of everyday life.
In modern life we tend to separate religion and state. In the past belief in supernatural forces, particularly malign supernatural forces, was far stronger. How else could people in the ancient world make sense of what happened to them and around them? When the causes of illness were not understood it would seem logical that an outside influence - an angry god or an evil spirit - had targeted that person or that animal.
Belief is a powerful force. If a character believes he or she can do something out of the ordinary, then sometimes they can. In my historical fiction I use the beliefs of my characters to allow them to tap into something larger than themselves. This 'something' can be a thing of delight or of terror. It is the wonder of the story-teller, used in tales before humans devised writing. And when we did begin to write, ghost stories, paranormal stories 'spooky' stories, were among the earliest tales we committed to clay, papyrus or parchment.
Here are a few paranormal moments from my novels. The first is based on an ancient Roman ghost story of a haunted house, which I adapted to use in 'Flavia's Secret'. In this excerpt, the paranormal is used to show wonder and delight in a special, secret place; a place where Flavia finds the strength to tell Marcus her own deadly secret.

EXCERPT:

Walking quickly, to show that she did not regret her decision to share this place with him, Flavia returned along the twisting beaten-earth path between the rampant rosemary and lavender bushes. One more twist of the path and they reached the heart of the garden and its startling secret—a private outdoor pool, its shimmering waters steaming in the sun.
‘By Mithras, what a place.’ Looking around, Marcus halted beside her, dropping onto his knees to test the waters of the deep, lead-lined pool. ‘It’s hot!’ he exclaimed, shaking moisture from his hand.
Flavia pointed to a large lead pipe leading away from the pool in the direction of the deserted house before it was lost in the luxuriant undergrowth.
‘We think the owner fixed a conduit somewhere off the spring waters of the Aesculapius spring and directed some of the thermal water here,’ she explained. ‘The pool drains somewhere, too, but we do not know where.’
Marcus sat back on his heels. ‘We?’
‘Those of us who come here, when we can.’
‘Your own private bathing place.’ Marcus jumped to his feet again and walked around the marbled perimeter of the pool. ‘I am surprised nobody has tried to make money with it.’
‘We are careful who we tell,’ Flavia said, squashing disappointment at Marcus’ mercenary approach, but he was staring across the sun-gilded water at the leaf-strewn timber portico leading to the deserted house.
‘I am not surprised at that,’ he said quietly. ‘It is beautiful.’
He watched a small breeze tumble a bronze oak leaf along a small marble walkway leading from the semi-derelict portico to the edge of the pool. ‘Mysterious, quite eerie, but also...comforting. As if you are in an entirely different world.’ He turned about, pointing to the sparkling spiders’ webs on the lavender bushes, rimed with heavy dew. ‘Somewhere forgotten by the rest of the city. A place where magical things become possible.’
‘You understand,’ Flavia whispered, breathing out in relief.
He smiled. ‘It is more than likely that the old owner saw an easy chance to grab some free hot water, but what he has made here, what time has made...I am not surprised he was thought to be a sorcerer.’
Marcus held out both hands to her. ‘Thank you for sharing this, and be assured—your secret with be safe in my keeping.’
Flavia walked to the edge of the secret pool and joined him in studying the waters.

In 'Bronze Lighting,' set in Bronze Age Europe, many characters believe in and practice magic. Here Fearn and Sarmatia, hero and heroine, are taking part in a sky ritual, a dangerous rite that they believe may unmask a murderer.

EXCERPT:

By this time it was early evening. A pall of dark clouds had gathered over the Sacred Hill. The sun hung over the eastern hills like a bloodstained shield. Fearn looked up at the sky.
'The God will come here when I summon him and we must be ready. Each of you strip off your gold, your silver and bronze. The Sky God does not like the gleam of metal on others.'
He lifted the bronze diadem from his head and laid it on the grass. 'Pile your ornaments here together. Give it to the earth for safekeeping. Quickly!'
At his command, Atterians broke their circle and came to heap their metal broaches, swords, arrows, arm-rings and finger-rings upon the King's diadem. Sarmatia watched Laerimmer take off his golden throat disc and glanced down at her own bronze ring, reluctant to remove it. Looking up, she saw Fearn walking towards her.
'Must I take off my ring?' she asked in Kretan as he reached her. Fearn answered in the same tongue.
'I fear so, Sarmatia.' He looked at her. Men were still gathered about the growing heap of metal. He and Sarmatia had a moment together.
'What is this ritual?'
'Nothing you need fear, Sarmatia. The Sky God knows our hearts. He does not touch those who are innocent. Twice now as King I've been asked to do this rite. The God may take some of our metal as sacrifice and payment, but that's a small thing for the truth.'
Sarmatia took off her bronze ring and gave it to Fearn. 'You must put this with the rest, Fearn. I can't.’ Then, although she already sensed the answer, she asked, 'Is the Sky God the same whose shrine is the Great Stone Circle?'
'It's the same God. And this is the rite the southern kingdoms have forgotten.' He turned and left her.

There are gods in my novels, too. In 'Blue Gold' the gods of ancient Egypt watch mankind from the sun-boat that crosses the sky each day and they sometimes interfere more directly.

EXCERPT:

“What happens now?” asked Astarte-with-the-moon-in-her-hair.
The eastern goddess of love was paying another visit to the sun boat of Ra. She thought the climate good for her complexion.
The blue god Amun, casting an admiring glance at the silver-haired goddess’s shapely long legs, mumbled something about a race. He ran his hands through a thick fleece of cloud, parting it with his fingers. “Look below us. There is my Pharaoh, a true Egyptian.”
“Ah yes. Sekenenre. The king who toils like an ant. He certainly looks to be making haste.”
Astarte leaned forward, the corners of her eyes crinkling at the sight of Sekenenre and his retinue of priests running their chariots again and again at the same high dune instead of doing the sensible thing of going round it. At her high vantage point, the fifteen chariots moving with such fanatical haste from the small water course where they had hidden their ship looked bizarre, like weevils.
No one on the sun boat reproved or remarked on the goddess’s comments. Those long, shapely legs were even better when she bent over the gunwale. From the middle of the boat came a muffled exclamation as the soul of the long dead Pharaoh Unas dropped the sun god’s fan.
“Fool of a mortal,” said old Ra sharply, squirming on his throne, crossing hands over thighs.
Astarte looked round over one shoulder and smiled, but she reserved her warmest look for Amun. “He is a long way from Thebes, your Sek-en-enre. Did you send a dream to instruct him? Does this true Egyptian know where he is going?”
“Pay no attention to anything Amun says. Sekenenre’s dash into the desert is due entirely to me.” Set materialized at her elbow. He directed Astarte to look over the other side of the boat. “Here’s my man.”
Aweserre’s chariot scuttled jauntily along below them.

In ‘Blue Gold’ when these two pharaohs meet, it is a clash of arms, force and beliefs and it leads to the unleashing of more paranormal forces.

Happy Halloween!

Lindsay
http://www.lindsaytownsend.net

Romantic Times gives four stars to 'Flavia's Secret'

It's a year since Flavia's Secret came out, so I'm delighted to find this in the November issue of Romantic Times:

'The ancient locale that is now modern Bath lends a vivid backdrop to a tender love story surrounded by mystery, danger and deceit. Readers will appreciate Townsend's thorough research and fluid style. Well-written secondary characters complement the action.'

Lindsay

Romantic Roman flowers for Valentine's Day

As a forerunner to Valentine's Day, and with Flavia's Secret and Escape to Love in mind, I thought I'd talk about some romantic Roman flowers. Some are surprising. Some are popular even today.

Sweet violet is a pretty, sweet-smelling flower used, like the anemone and the madonna lily, in garlands at Roman banquets. The scent was believed to ward off drunkenness! The Romans loved the scent of violets and even drank wine infused with violets and honey.

Vervain is a dull-looking plant but one which the Romans believed held magical proprieties. Believed to bring good luck, it was used in love potions.

Roman brides used mint for their garlands, and their faces may have been cleansed with a facepack made from the juice of yellow elecampane, because it was believed that Helen of Troy was collecting the flower when Paris abducted her.

Then as now however, the most popular romantic flower was the rose. Roses were grown in Campania for sale and the streets in Rome were red with rose garlands. They were known as flowers of seduction - Cleopatra was rumoured to have seduced Mark Anthony with rose petals. I'll leave it to your imagination as to how!

(Painting by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema and drawings of sweet violet, elecampane and mint from Wikimedia Commons.)

A Christmas "Ghost" story

In Britain, there is a tradition of telling ghost stories around Christmas.

Here is mine. It's not a traditional ghost story but I hope you enjoy it. It begins like this....


THE BEACH.

I was born seventeen years ago, in the year of our Lord 900. I give the Christian date because I respect Jesus Christ, who cares for slaves, although I will never worship him. Forgiveness is a creed I do not understand.
The name I was given at birth is not important; the villagers of Oslo never used it. They called me a charmer. Or a witch.
Perhaps I was a witch. I hated water and was afraid of the sea. Once, running along the beach with apples, fleeing the tide, I fell and turned an ankle.
A Viking found me. We knew each other by sight, Bjorn Askson and I. Once, on market day in Oslo, he blew me a kiss. He had been drinking, but I did not care. The way he looked at me then passed straight into my memories. Bjorn was handsome, with the piercing glance of a dragon ship. As different from the man who owned me, the paunchy wizard Gagnrad, as a body could be.
Now Bjorn swung down from his horse and lifted me out of that mess of crushed reed-weave, sand and apples. Gently, as if I was one of his precious bales, the silk-stuff which he traded and which made him rich. He set me on his mount before him.
Neither of us spoke. Gagnrad was always scolding me to take care, not to rush so recklessly, nor speak so boldly, forthright as a free-woman. I was silent and still. I tried not to think about Gagnrad. I leaned back against Bjorn Askson's body, imagining, in as many ways as possible, what it would be like to enjoy that well-shaped mouth.
Bjorn smiled, brushing back the tendrils of blonde hair plastered against my cheek by water. I felt his fingers tighten round my waist. He bent his head.
'You are free to choose.’ He slackened his grip. 'I am not Gagnrad.'

Read the rest here.

ESCAPE TO LOVE- SIZZLING EROTIC ROMANCE! OUT NOW!
http://www.sirenpublishing.com/lindsaytownsend/etl.asp
FLAVIA'S SECRET - sensual historical romance set in Roman Britain.
Bookstrand www.bookstrand.com 4.5 Red Roses and Blue Ribbons. 4
Books. Book of the Week at LASR 4 Stars.
http://www.bookstrand.com/product-flaviassecret-11087-330.html
A SECRET TREASURE - romantic suspense set on Rhodes. Bookstrand. The
perfect holiday read. 5 Stars. 4.5 Red Roses. 4
Cups. 5 Angels. 4 Books. 4 Bookmarks
http://www.bookstrand.com/product-asecrettreasure-11086-330.html
A KNIGHT'S VOW - Kensington Zebra and Kindle editions. Passionate
medieval romance. 5 Red Roses. 4.5 Blue Ribbons.4 Stars
A KNIGHT'S CAPTIVE - Kensington Zebra. Forthcoming, April 2009.

Siren-Bookstrand Christmas Party

Hi! Join us for a full weekend on December 20 and 21st when we party away for Christmas!

It's all happening next weekend on the Siren-Bookstrand Group:

Christmas Crackers - Contests. Prizes. Hunks. Christmas Stocking Fillers. (Need a last minute gift? Our Stocking Fillers could give you that perfect present - especially to yourself. There will be excerpts galore to savour, from Christmas -themed stories and from other stories.)

Christmas Dreams. Share your hopes and wishes for this festive season. Be transported as our writers share their 'Couples' First Christmases.' What happens to your favourite characters at Christmas? Here's a chance to find out!

Christmas Times. Come and join in as we chat about Christmas past and present and share good memories and stories. Tell us your favourite Christmas song. Wow us with your best Christmas memory.

Christmas Fun. Recipes. Candies. Drinks. Chatter. Jokes.

All welcome! Tell your friends. Come as and when you can - it's all weekend on December 20-21st, right here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SirenBookstrand/

Best wishes, Lindsay

Lindsay Townsend

ESCAPE TO LOVE- SIZZLING EROTIC ROMANCE! OUT NOW!
http://www.sirenpublishing.com/lindsaytownsend/etl.asp

FLAVIA'S SECRET - sensual historical romance set in Roman Britain.
Bookstrand www.bookstrand.com 4.5 Red Roses and Blue Ribbons. 4
Books. Book of the Week at LASR 4 Stars.
http://www.bookstrand.com/product-flaviassecret-11087-330.html

A SECRET TREASURE - sweet romantic suspense set on Rhodes. Bookstrand. The
perfect holiday read. www.bookstrand.com 5 Stars. 4.5 Red Roses. 4
Cups. 5 Angels. 4 Books. 4 Bookmarks
http://www.bookstrand.com/product-asecrettreasure-11086-330.html

[Mistletoe and ribbon from http://www.clipartof.com]

Competition closed

My pre-Christmas Fictionwise competition for buyers of Flavia's Secret and Secret Treasure is now over and winners have been informed. Thank you for taking part!

Lindsay

Other times, other places...

Want to know how it felt to bathe in a Roman bath?
Want to know what to do if faced by a boar with piglets?
Want to know how to fight with a wooden sword?
Want to enjoy a Roman banquet?
Want to know what went on at the Saturnalia?
Want to know about corrupt protection rackets?
Want to know how one Roman master felt about his slave girl?

Read my Flavia's Secret - set in ancient Roman Bath.

Want to know about ancient Roman aphrodisiacs?
Want to know what position the philosopher Lucretius said was best for making love?
Want to know if Lydia and Severus can escape to love?

Read my Escape to Love - set in ancient Rome.

Best wishes, Lindsay.

Io, Saturnalia!

It may not have been Christmas exactly, but the ancient Roman Saturnalia (17th-23rd. December) was certainly an opportunity for feasting and gift-giving. Over the years, this time of merry-making, sacrifices and gift-giving expanded to a week and the poet Catullus - who knew a thing or two about parties - called it 'the best of days'.

In many ways this ancient festival was rather like Christmas:

Schools were on holiday.

Gambling was allowed.

Shopping at special markets was encouraged.

Holiday clothes were worn - the informal, colourful 'dining clothes' instead of the plain, bulky toga.

Presents were given - parrots, wax candles, dice, combs, perfumes, little pottery dolls.

Feasting was indulged, with Saturn himself in charge as Lord of Misrule.

People wished each other a merry Saturnalia with the evocation, 'io Saturnalia!' ('Yo Saturnalia!')

My ancient Roman historical romance Flavia's Secret has its climax and ending during the Saturnalia - have you entered my competition yet, by the way? Here's an excerpt to tempt you:

Flavia was as quick as she could be, but there were queues everywhere
in the food shops and spice and trinket stalls as slaves and even
citizens shopped for last minute items for the Saturnalia. It was the
first time she had been in the city this close to the festival. In
other years, Lady Valeria had given her people small gifts of pickled
fish and nuts, but had otherwise ignored the Saturnalia, insisting
that her servants remain indoors and serve her, rather than follow
the tradition that at the Saturnalia the household slaves for one day
at least were waited on by their masters.

`The Saturnalia is a rowdy, vulgar, drunken festival, little more
than an orgy,' Lady Valeria had complained. `I will have no part of
it in my house.'

Her words may have been true, but as the morning progressed, Flavia
saw little to alarm her. The people in these snowy streets were
intent on their money or goods. A few roughly-dressed men were
crouched over gaming tables and she passed a group of giggling young
slave girls, all waving napkins given to them as presents, but there
was no sign of drunkenness or of wild orgies. Many workshops were
shuttered and closed and houses the same. There was a distant grumble
of noise coming from the theatre, close to the great bathing complex,
but no raised voices.

Unsure whether to be glad or disappointed, Flavia swapped her basket
from one arm to the other and sped on through the slushy snow. She
longed to stay and find some gifts for Gaius and the others—
especially for Marcus, her heart whispered—but she still had not
enough money of her own. With a sigh, her final purchase haggled for
and bought, she turned to make her way home, avoiding the wine shops
and taverns and drawing her shawl over her blonde hair each time she
crossed a busy street.

She was close to the blank front entrance of the deserted villa where
she had taken Marcus to see the secret garden and pool when she heard
the sounds of flutes and drums approaching from a narrow, snow-filled
alleyway.

`Ow!' She put a hand to her ear, which had just begun to sting. A
small apple lay at her feet in the snow and as she stared at it, she
realized that it must have been thrown down at her from the upper
living quarters over one of the shuttered shops.

`To Saturnalia!' roared a good-natured male voice overhead. More
small apples and nuts and then a cluster of sweetmeats rained down on
Flavia and others in the street. People scrambled on hands and knees
to pick up the fruit and other foods, while the racket of the flutes
and drums drew nearer.

Then she spotted them, at the back of the parade. Three beggars, in
rags, slinking along the alley. They carried walking sticks and their
cloaks were torn but they moved too smoothly for men wracked by pain
or ill health. Now that she looked more closely, she thought she
recognised the small, skinny one. She had seen him before, walking
past the villa, twice, no three times. But he had never called with
his begging bowl.

A prickle of alarm, cold as an icicle, shot down the length of
Flavia's back. Trusting her instincts, honed by years of slavery, she
flattened herself into the nearest shadowy doorway, glad of her
inconspicuous brown gown as she veiled her face with one end of the
shawl. Scarcely breathing, she waited for this parade to go by.

They were all men. At least a score of brightly-dressed young men,
several puffing cheerfully on long flutes or banging on drums and all
with the rich, sleek look of Roman aristocrats and the free-born.
These were revellers: quite a few clutched jugs of beer or wine which
they carelessly drank from. Flavia prayed they would not notice her.
The last stragglers swayed past her hiding place. One, stumbling in
the snow with heavy deliberateness, dropped to his knees close to
where she was. He did not see her, but his two friends, slithering
over the slush and ice to haul him up, spotted the small, wary figure
in the shadows and shouted.

`Hey, girl, join us!'

`Let me give you something,' the second leered, making a crude
gesture with his hand.

Flavia darted away before the two men trapped her in the doorway.

`Hey, come back!'

`Party time!'

`We have the wine and you are the orgy!'

Backing along the street, Flavia heard an ominous silence descend
among the flute players and drummers. Walking as rapidly as she could
in a clumsy, sideways fashion, she did not speak, or run. She did not
want to provoke them.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw the three beggars echoing her
own movements, clearly following her. Who were they?

Under her fear, her mind was still working. If she could only reach
the crossroads, she would take the short-cut down the street of the
fullers and make for the shrine of the goddess Sulis at the Roman
baths. She was Christian, but these men were pagans. Surely they
would respect their own sacred place? Surely the goddess would
protect her?

None of the other bystanders or shoppers raised a word against the
rich, spoilt Romans or these creeping, silent beggars. Flavia knew
she was alone and would have to deal with them herself. She thought
of Marcus, going into battle, facing down his enemies. He had not
turned and run, and she would not.

Yo, Saturnalia!

Lindsay Townsend

The Pompeiian partygoers in the picture come from the BBC's Ancient Rome pages.

Review of 'Flavia's Secret'

Many thanks to Elizabeth at Manic Readers for her four-star review of Flavia's Secret :

"Lindsay Townsend has given readers an exciting, sexy novel in Flavia’s Secret. Her characters are full and complete, with interesting flaws that make them seem very real. The reader will find themselves enchanted with even minor characters such as Hadrian, the young slave rescued by Marcus. Townsend's description of an ancient England under Roman rule comes alive with detail, and gives depth to the story. Her writing leaves the reader anxious to know what will happen next, and this is not an easy book to put down. This novel is highly recommended to historical fiction fans that will fall in love with the story of Flavia and Marcus."

Read the whole review here.

Hallowe'en treats

Lick your lips, folks. This came into my blogreader today: it seems that sweets for Hallowe'en go back a long, long way, back to the Roman world of Flavia's Secret and beyond. Dates in honey, stuffed with pine-nuts, anyone? Here's the full article from the National Geographic.

~Lindsay Townsend

The leaves are falling...

It's autumn, so I just thought I'd treat you to a few pictures from the garden here in Yorkshire. The weather's been lovely for a few days, but there's sometimes a wintry nip in the air in the mornings now.
The roses are starting to go a bit quiet, but 'Shropshire Lad' is still going strong. There's a small chrysanthemum finally doing its thing after surviving as a sickly cutting on the bedroom windowsill over winter and battling the slugs all year.
The grass doesn't need mowing so often, the buddleias have been cut back for the winter and before too many more weeks the geraniums and pots of herbs will have to be brought under cover - but I noticed the other day that there's a primrose flowering! That's global warming for you.

Doing the research...

For me, research for writing is not so much a labor of love as a break in the flow of my story-telling. For Flavia's Secret I was researching ancient Rome, ancient Romano-British food, society, class, fashion, the city of Roman Bath and the baths themselves - I did the same kind of research on ancient Egypt for my forthcoming Blue Gold, too, beginning first with a visit to the children's library for lots of clear explanations and lovely picture-books).

Pictures and personal observation are what I find most useful in all my research. When I'm researching for a book, days are taken up with observation - noting people's gestures, the sounds and rhythms of their speech, the pervading scent of a place, the number of steps to a particular church. My husband is a keen photographer and takes pictures not only for himself but also for me: strange shots of dustbins and public telephones and kiosks and then, teasingly, candid pictures of myself, sunhat jammed over my eyes, head down as I take copious notes.

We repeated this in Rhodes as I researched the Dodecanese islands for A Secret Treasure. The heroine of A Secret Treasure is an intelligent, sensitive young woman and keen cook in a high-pressure situation so I approached my research through Eve's eyes, noting how stark the contrast between shade and sun at midday, between the bustle and crowds of Rhodes Old Town and the pine-fretted quiet of Ancient Kamiros, where fragile orchids grow along the edges of the paths, learning how delicious grilled meat can taste, liberally sprinkled with fresh lemon juice and rigani, or how thorny and close-packed Greek heathland is.

Back home, the temptation is to use every scrap of my notes and then my writer's day is one of choice, because to put everything in would be fatal. My fiction is suspenseful, romantic, active: to stem the flow with a stodge of travelogue material would be a huge mistake - which isn't to say I don't commit such blunders! Usually then I spend a significant proportion of the next day taking out what I put in - a task which often inspires me to try even harder as I aim to get the most out of what I really love doing: writing.

(The Roman bikini picture is from the Villa del Casale, Piazza Armerina, Sicily (source: Wikimedia Commons (public domain).)

Lindsay Townsend

Author Recipe: Lindsay's Apple and Coriander Smoothie

Here's a very easy recipe to enjoy on a warm day, maybe while reading Flavia's Secret - print edition due out very soon! - or A Secret Treasure:

1 large cooking apple (Bramley or similar)
2 scoops vanilla icecream
2 scoops thick Greek yoghurt
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp finely ground coriander seed


Stew the apple and sugar with a little water, until soft. Blend with the icecream and yoghurt until smooth, then stir in the coriander seed at the last minute and serve. It's even better if left to cool in the fridge. The coriander lifts the apple and adds a peachy/peary taste of its own.


Buy the Flavia's Secret paperback at

Amazon.com
or
Barnes and Noble

or download both my books through Bookstrand here.

Lindsay Townsend's FLAVIA'S SECRET

Flavia’s Secret is a well-crafted love story that will have you on the edge of your seat one minute and breathless the next. Lindsay Townsend’s writing style is simply beautiful. A true pleasure to read.

Flavia is a slave with a secret that may very well cost her life. Marcus her new owner is a gorgeous half-Roman with a warrior’s body and a lover’s heart. I’m not ashamed to admit I fell head over heels for this hero, and I just might be willing to trade my freedom for a chance to fill Flavia’s shoes.

The Roman baths and the ancient marketplaces were so well-drawn they came alive for me. The setting was sensual and palpable. It’s impossible not to become absorbed in Flavia and Marcus’s world and to care deeply for them. The secondary characters were woven neatly into the plot, and the villain’s power and control was absolutely terrifying.

I literally could not put this book down and when I was finished, I didn’t want it to end. I’ll be reading everything Lindsay Townsend writes, and I think everyone else who picks up this book will do the same.

Wendi Darlin

Reviews for 'Flavia's Secret'

Flavia's Secret has been getting some good reviews lately! It's just been voted Best Book of the Week at The Long and the Short of It, where Cherry Blossom said:

"The unusual time period gives the story a hue of fantasy, but the plot, the character's reactions, the motivations are solidly grounded in reality—both in the psychology of the characters and in the logic of the historical time. And Lindsay Townsend populates her ancient city with a colorful cast. Even the most minor characters are given due attention and spring to life for whatever short part they are called to play. The more important ones are unforgettable. Lindsay excels at adding the right small touch to make each one come to life and be remembered.

Flavia's Secret is also an emotionally satisfying read. The story pulls the reader in to share the events and to empathize fully with the main characters. It is impossible to put it down once you've started to read it. Moreover, Lindsay Townsend has achieved what all writers strive for—the reader will wish the story would go on forever."

And at Romance Junkies, Natasha Smith said:

"Lindsay Townsend has thoroughly convinced me that I need to go back into time and become a scribe in ancient England. I lived and breathed Flavia’s yearnings and love for Marcus throughout the pages of FLAVIA’S SECRET. Marcus was harder to read but no less important. His status as a widower afforded him the ability to try and stay untouched and out of reach of clinging females. I smiled when the one female who wanted to remain aloof from him was able to change his stance on love and worm her way into his heart.

Releasing as an ebook first and then a print book later this year, FLAVIA’S SECRET is a passionate historical romance. Set in ancient England during Roman rule, I enjoyed reading about these two wonderful characters as well as the setting and town in which the novel took place. Marcus and Flavia were perfect for each other and this book was the perfect read for my ancient history loving soul. Thumbs up Ms. Townsend! I loved every word of FLAVIA’S SECRET!"