AND THE WINNER IS...

Melinda.

Congratulations Melinda, you're the winner of 'Rightfully Mine' .  Thank you for contributing to Aggie Villanueva's celebration with us, and enjoy your prize!

Ancient Israel Celebration

Hello and welcome to The Author Roast and Toast! Today’s celebration will transport us back in time to ancient nomadic Israel. Our featured guest is Aggie Villanueva and we are celebrating her book
RIGHTFULLY MINE

So come wander with us through the sands of the desert and experience what life was like for the nomads who made the wilderness their home.

At the foot of Mt. Sinai, the goat-hair tent is being set up for the gala affair. Torch lit lanterns flicker in the starry sky, bathing the hostesses in celestial light. With their jack-be-nimble fingers, they prepare their costumes for the celebration. Working at a feverish frenzy, sweat beading her upper lip, Mary spins wool into fabric on her portable loom. Pleased when she has produced three hostess tunics, hands them to Lyn with a beaming blush. “Whew, thought I’d never get these suckers sewn together, but here they are.”

Lyn snatches them from Mary’s grasp and clucks her tongue. “We can’t be seen in these common fabrics,” she hisses, her hair frizzing from the desert heat. “Have you no sense of fashion, woman?” With a disgusted roll of her eyes, she dunks each of the tunics into the basin of dye she has prepared from the herbs she’s collected all day. Blue from the bark, yellow from pomegranate, lilac from myrtle, and red from henna root. With her stick, she swishes the tunics around until just the right color is desired. Lying them on the stones to dry, she beams at Mary. “Now we’ll be befitting. I want lilac since it’s my favorite color.”

“I’ll take yellow,” Mary snorts. But suddenly the air swooshes through the olive branches as Sharon comes out of the tent, frowning, her lips twitching with annoyance. “Surely, we need a bit more frills for the festival tonight. Allow me to show you how to make our tunics into halugs.” Sharon snaps her fingers. “Over the heads they go.”

Once Mary and Lyn are standing in their tunics, Sharon gathers the material at the shoulder and clips it with a gold artifact. Handing them leather belts to loop around their waists, she nods her approval as she steps into her blue halug and decorates it. “Much better. And once we complete our chores, we’ll add our cloaks and veils. Now we must help Oliver prepare for the celebration.”

Huffing and puffing, Mary climbs to the top of Mt. Sinai to fetch water from the spring. Filling two buckets, she stops to admire a flock of sheep. Cuddles and Junior, donned in their headpieces to shield the sun out, herd the sheep.  

Lyn continues to stir the red henna dye with a vengeance. Wanting just the right color for the makeup, she peers a little closer. Sharon sits at the entrance of the cave, carving pieces of bark into combs. Oliver, dressed in black and adorned in striped headpiece,busies himself by setting up large basins of sweet red wine outside the tent for the gala. On the stones, he bakes Manna cake for the guests.

And it’s just about time for the guest of honor to arrive. Finally pleased with the red dye, Lyn summons the hostesses over to her. And with her flourished hand, she applies subtle red dye to their lips and cheeks and fingernails. Sharon hands them each a comb and they fasten their hair and tie it back, place the veils over their faces and cloak their bare shoulders.

And with a clop clop, a caravan materializes around the mountainside, and on a beautiful camel sits Aggie Villanueva, looking beautiful in a red linen halug, fringes and gold necklace and headpiece. Oliver helps her down and escorts her up the silken road to the tent. When she sees what has been written in stone, she beams:

Rightfully Mine Excerpt

By Aggie Villanueva

Rizpah examined the features of this man Hanniel who she knew still loved her, despite her discouragement. Two weeks ago she could not have realized such depth from his bumbling attempt to comfort her, but she understood now that what he lacked in speech, he made up for in music. Rizpah viewed Hanniel through new eyes. Torchlight flickered over his wide nostrils, quivering in song. His thick, sensitive lips caressed the haunting melody and his face was a circle of mystery and enticement above the embrace of his lyre. Hanniel was attractive enough that maidens of Manasseh continually sought to marry him, yet Rizpah had always found his face unexciting and bland, like unseasoned lentils. But tonight...

“Mistress?” a servant whispered to Rizpah.

“Yes?”

“I have a message for you to meet Caleb of Judah in the Tent of Meeting.”

Rizpah stared at Mahlah, who shook her head. “I know nothing of it.”

Ducking out of the moonlit edges of the wedding party, her eyes met Moses’. She thought he winked at her.

Surely it is only the torchlight’s reflection.

***

The Tabernacle was deserted. Not even the illumination of the full moon penetrated the insulated ceilings of the Tent of meeting. The only light was from the Golden Lamp Stand, throwing divergent shadows across the room at will, slicing the silence with its flames. Rizpah felt chilled.

“Caleb?”

“I am here.”

Rizpah whirled at the sound of his voice behind her. He stepped from the shadows of the tent door, but said nothing.

“Should we be here?” Rizpah indicated the Holy Place.

“I have Moses’ permission.”

At the mention of their leader, she was alert. “Has this to do with Moses?”

“Yes, I have spoken with him. He took your appeal before Elohim and has heard from the Most High.”

In the following silence, Rizpah searched his eyes for the answer she had awaited with dread these past two weeks, but she could find no clues there. He only watchedher. She shifted her weight, and still he stared. She probed again with her eyes, but he was silent. She could wait no longer. Doubling her fist, she pummeled his

arm, waiving formalities with him. “Will you tell me or not?”

Caleb laughed, startling her. “I told Moses I wished to be the one to tell you the news, but I didn’t know I was inviting battle. I should have guessed the first night under the stars, when you growled at me because you found this plain unfavorable, that I was in the presence of a tigress. Is no one safe from you?”

“You are teasing me,” Rizpah stated, amazed at Caleb’s camaraderie.

At Rizpah’s beseeching look, he relented. “All right, I will tell you. The Lord said you are right.”

“I am right?”

“You are right.” Caleb laughed again.

“The land is ours?”

“The land is yours.”

Rizpah wavered. Caleb’s arm steadied her. What is he saying? I was right? The elders of Israel rebuked me with their shunning and Elohim has declared I am right? Uncle Salu publicly denounced me and the Lord

Elohim declares I was right? She turned a stunned face to Caleb. “Is this a dream?”

“No, Rizpah. And not only that, Elohim has ordered a new law made that if any man dies and leaves no son, his inheritance must go to his daughters.”

“But women cannot own land.”

“This day they can.” Caleb threw an arm high. “Rizpah, do you realize what you have wrought? This day, a new law is made in Israel. You stood for justice and now daughters can own land.”

“I stood for justice?” Rizpah echoed, reminded of her father’s prophetic words.

You will stand for justice and justice will circumcise you.

Now she understood. These two weeks she had thought surely she would be cut off. But now...

“You stood for justice,” Caleb affirmed, touching her chin to guide her gaze back to him. His voice was low. 

“I know I admired you since that night last summer beneath the stars. I gave you the opportunity to deny your father’s words gracefully, about your feelings for me.” Rizpah winced at the painful memory, but Caleb kept a firm hold of her chin. “Though you risked humiliation, you were truthful. That took great courage, the kind of courage that caused me no surprise when you stood against your uncle.”

Caleb’s eyes traced her features, softened by the dim lamplight in the Tabernacle. He lowered her shawl from her head and smoothed her hair. Rizpah’s heart pounded and her breath came in short gasps. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” He continued before she could blush. “My heart has long resisted you, but you battle aggressively even in love. It is true: no one is safe from you, not even I.”

And before we enjoy the sweet wine and Manna cake, answer the question to be eligible for the prize, a download of Aggie’s book. Here is the question: What appeared to Moses on Mt. Sinai?

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RIGHTFULLY MINE: GOD'S EQUAL RIGHTS AMENDMENT NOVEL

THE REWRITTEN WORD COURSE
RIGHTFULLY MINE MOVIE TRAILER

AND THE WINNERS ARE:

Deanna's winners for yesterday were: Jennifer - winner of Never Surrender in paperback and Cindy - winner of No Turning Back in paperback. If they would both email her their address she will get their book to them.

Word of the Week winners will be listed on herwebsite later today.

Thanks for everyone who commented, and helped make it so much fun.

Deanna Jewel has an 18th Century Yorkshire Roast

Just a few miles from historic Richmond castle, the majestic Yorkshire  mansion stands under the azure sky, poised ready to welcome a very special guest.  In front of its terraced lawns and gardens, the waves of the North sea. in the distance, lap gently against the shore.  Inside Mary, Lyn and Sharon are putting the final touches to their costumes.

"The powder from this  wig  is tickling my nose, Mary exclaims, knocking  Lyn flat with the violence of her sneezes. She and Sharon take a hand each and pull Lyn back up.  She smooths the folds of her purple silk damask gown, frowning at Mary.

"Do I still look all right?

"You're fine," Sharon assures her, "I think we all look fantastic in these 18th century gowns.  She fans herself delicately with her lace fan.  She looks beautiful in turquoise silk with a pale blue underskirt.  Mary looks lovely too, and is the picture of elegance in deepest claret, with a gold underskirt and trimmings.

An elegant schooner lies at anchor in the secluded bay, while further out to sea is a black sailed galleon - could this be the mysterious pirate ship, whose crew is rumoured to pay a friendly visit to these parts from time to time?

In the mirrored ballroom with its myriad chandaliers, the orchestra is tuning up in preparation of the evening's ball.  The tables in the dining hall groan beneath the weight of the banquet laid ready for the guests.  Oliver has taken special care over the deserts and as well as small chunks of  Devil's Food cake and  ripe English strawberries, there are bananas, pineaapples and a variety of fruits brought from exotic locations by Oliver's pirate friends.  Some fruits are still in their skins, for the guests to help themselves, and some he has meticulously cut into pieces just the right size for dipping in the various fondues he has prepared, including luxurious velvety brown chocolate and Gingered White Chocolate.

In pride of place is the large Devils Food Cake Oliver has made specially for Deanna, decorated with caramel coconut frosting, with strawberries and hand piped roses, and the cover of 'No Turning Back' painstakingly formed out of fondant icing.

 

There is, of course, a plentiful supply of the finest wines and other beverages, to suit all tastes.

Oliver himself, dressed in a fetching blue captain's coat, with knee high boots and a tricorner hat, is checking the barrels of best Jamaican rum. to make sure there will be plenty for his pirate friends, should they decide to join the party.

"Oliver," Sharon calls, "Come quickly, I think I hear the coach drawing near!" she pauses.

"And I do hope that moustache you've suddenly sprouted is a false one!"

They all rush to the door as the coach pulls up and Deanna, looking absolutely stunning in a sky blue Marie Antonnette style gown steps from it, to be greeted by Oliver who bows low and kisses her hand, before the three hostesses run to hug her in turn.

In the dining hall, Oliver turns to the waiting guests and holds his hands up for silence as he escorts Deanna to her seat.  "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the famous Deanna Jewel."  When the thunderous applause has died down. he holds up her book 'No Turning Back' and reads out loud:

NO TURNING BACK

Blurb 

While avenging the death of his fiancé years earlier, Nathan learns that he CAN love again. Will the woman he wants also learn to love again?

She’s head strong, flaunts London aristocracy and takes on breeding horses, something unheard of in the society circles of London.  Vanessa finds herself trying to put the pieces of her life back together, but can she do it alone? With a child on the way, she is forced to do just that; their future depends on her strength. Then a friend wants to help. Dare she trust a man sworn to carry out a vow taken on a death bed? She refuses to accept that his love is true when his honor of sticking to his word is also at stake.

NO TURNING BACK
Excerpt

Michael ‘Nathaniel’ Clairmont, the Fourth Duke of North Yorkshire, crumpled the missive he’d received from his fiancée’s parents as he raked his fingers through his shoulder length hair. Fear tightened his chest as he stepped to the door and called to his squire. “Prepare Caesar, now!”

            Stepping back into the room, he addressed his longtime friend, Anthony Faulkner. “I’m going to see Lady Stockholm’s parents. Clarissa is missing. Are you with me?”

            Faulkner jammed his tricorn hat atop his head. “Bloody right I am!”

           Moments later, after meeting with the Stockholm’s, Michael urged his bay Barb to greater speed along side Anthony’s. An unnatural scattering of branches and leaves strewn about the road ahead caught his attention. He reined Caesar and dismounted for a closer look. Footprints of horses and men marred the dirt and led deeper into the woods where the underbrush lay trampled and broken.

            After tethering Caesar to a branch, he motioned for Faulkner to follow him along the path. A piece of green silk shimmered atop a briar bush, and Michael grabbed up the soft material. It was the color he’d last seen on Clarissa. The fragrance of jasmine assailed his senses. His eyes widened in recognition of the scent...the same one Clarissa wore!

            He gripped the material in his fist. Bile rose in his throat as fear knotted his gut. Though afraid of what he’d find ahead, he pushed forward; low-hanging branches slapped at his face and caught at his shoulder-length hair. He pushed the foliage out of his way and tromped the underbrush in his desperate search.

            When he reached out to block another branch, a silk stocking skimmed his face and he grabbed the stocking for inspection. Michael looked at Faulkner’s worried face, swore under his breath and moved on but a foreboding feeling ate at his senses, almost like being watched.

            He couldn’t miss a gown strewn atop the bushes. The shock that tore throughout his system stopped Michael dead in his tracks, his muscles recoiling in reaction. Meticulously arranged over the waist-high bushes, as if in preparation for wear, lay a dark green silk gown, a vicious tear low in the neckline. His gaze moved slowly over the material. Tightness gripped his chest, feeling as though someone had reached in and squeezed his heart, the pain so intense it burned. He touched Faulkner’s arm, and gritted his teeth. “It’s the gown Clarissa wore at the ball last night,^” he said in a gut-wrenching rasp. His gaze searched the area until the very thing he wanted to avoid seeing lay before him. His body froze.

            A bare, delicate ankle peeked from beneath the underbrush.

Lunging forward like a wild beast, ravaging the area, throwing branches and uprooting ferns, he uncovered her body...clad only in her white satin chemise, splattered with her own blood.

            His tortured scream echoed throughout the surrounding forest as he fell to his knees beside her battered body. Praying she might hear, he whispered her name. Touching her bruised cheek - he found it still warm. A flicker of hope ignited within his heart as he pressed his fingertips against the slim column of her throat. Moments later, finding no trace of a pulse, that slight flicker of hope extinguished itself. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts at who could be her killer.

    

Deanna Jewel lives in Lewiston, Idaho with her husband and two Siamese cats, Sinbad and Zoie and has been writing since 1991. She enjoys traveling and researching history, of which she is now totally surrounded by living in the Lewis-Clark Valley.

She has two daughters, Lisa and Lauren and two grandchildren. Deanna has enjoyed reading historical novels for over thirty years, in addition to camping and traveling. A trip years ago to Dubois, Wyoming, south of Yellowstone, inspired her current time-travel novel. The landscape and town locations described in NEVER SURRENDER are real. A professor at Boise State University, Jon Daley, translated the Shoshone language that you will find in the book.

            Her writing goal is to draw the reader into the story to experience what the characters feel, to show both the hero’s and heroine’s points of view, and to take the reader away from their every day problems to a place not yet visited. Open one of her books and enter a new world!

            She invites you to visit her website at http://www.deannajewel.com/ and sign her guestbook. Please let her know how you enjoyed her novels. Upcoming works will be posted on her website so stop back often.

            Her latest novel is  NO TURNING BACK,  an historical romance about getting a second chance at love and takes place in England, 1775. That book was previously titled Fire on the Water and will be published in February 2010.
Deana has kindly offered one copy each of Never Surrender and No Turning Back and if there are enough attendees, maybe even a gift card to Amazon or B & N! She also has a contest running that will end on the 30th - Word of the Week and will draw that winner Saturday morning. Her regular monthly contest ends on the 31st so there is lots for  readers to do! 
TO WIN ONE OF HER PRIZES, COMMENT ON TODAY'S POST AND LET US HAVE YOUR ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION -  WHO DOES OLIVER REMIND YOU OF IN THAT OUTFIT?

AND THE WINNER IS.....

Elaine Cantrell

Congratulations, Elaine, would you please contact Wendi at

racegirlrwz@yahoo.com

to claim your prize.

Thanks as always to everyone who joined in our party - don't forget we'll be doing it all again next Friday with a new victim - er we mean guest!