Wednesday Wonders: THE SPIDER AND THE SPARROW

Today’s Wednesday Wonders features the World War One adventure novel, The Spider and the Sparrow, by A. L. Sowards.

Book Description:

May 1915. After tragedy strikes during the Second Battle of Artois, Frenchman Julian Olivier will do anything to get out of the trenches. So when British Intelligence recruits him to spy behind enemy lines, he jumps at the opportunity. Just before he begins, however, he has a chance encounter with a young French woman who leaves his heart marked for the remainder of the war—even if he doesn’t know her name.

Warren Flynn is a Canadian airborne hero, and dogfights with the Germans are all in a day’s work. Second only to his love of flying is his fascination with Claire Donovan, the daughter of an American munitions manufacturer living in Paris. Warren flies Julian into Germany and soon receives orders to post the Allies’ newest operative—an attractive peasant woman named Evette—in Claire’s home.

As a dangerous ring of spies and saboteurs threatens to turn the war against the Allies, Julian discovers goodness in his enemies’ hearts. But even if he survives, will he ever be reunited with the woman whose memory he can’t erase? Will Warren survive the war, and will Evette unearth the infiltrator in her own territory before it’s too late?

Book Excerpt:

French trenches - WWI

The sky rained water droplets and artillery shell fragments through the loud, misty morning. The water left puddles under the duckboards at the bottom of the French trenches and turned Julian Olivier’s horizon-blue uniform into a muddy mess. The artillery, most of it fired from French 75mm Soixante-Quinze guns, landed largely on the Germans, and thus troubled Julian little.

Amid the shrill whines and distant booms of the guns, Julian huddled under a rain block fashioned from broken rifles and a tattered greatcoat. Water dripped from the edges and leaked through in three spots along the center, but the shelter was sufficient to protect his paper from rain damage as he finished a letter to his parents.

Spring has skipped the trenches. I don’t suppose it can compete with the artillery. Has spring come to Calais? I miss the blossoming trees and the new green grass filling the meadows. Is the Channel clear? When I picture home, I imagine the harbor full of shipping from England. We’ll take all the men, horses, and ammunition they can send.

I wish I was home to help with the extra work this time of year always brings, yet I am also glad to sacrifice for France. Our existence here is rough, but Lieutenant Roux tells us we will be relieved within the week. I would do much for a bath and a real bed. Mother, you would be horrified by how filthy I look and smell, but since everyone else has been unwashed just as long, we grow used to it.

Julian paused, his pen hovering above the paper. He decided to spare his mother the description of trench rats. She despised rodents, and he didn’t want her to worry. Maybe he’d already said too much in complaining about the smell, but the scent of unwashed men was minor compared to the stench of decomposing bodies. He scratched the hair on the back of his neck. When washed, it was chestnut brown, but for now it was like everything else: the color of mud. He decided to omit the mention of lice from his letter as well. Nor would he tell her about the German shells that frequently pounded his position, but his father would want to know about French weapons.

Our current artillery barrage is strong, thus my friends predict we shall soon see action. I hope to make you proud when we drive the enemy from our soil.

Today it rains, but I am well. Please pray for me, as I ever pray for you.

Your loving son,

Julian

He added the date to the top of the sheet: May 6, 1915.

After the ink dried, Julian folded the letter and stuck it in his breast pocket for safekeeping. He would post it tomorrow after he’d had time to reread it and make sure he hadn’t said anything he wasn’t allowed to discuss. During their last period away from the line, he’d written that the cramped barn they were stationed in was covered in more manure than straw. A censor had refused to mail the letter and had given Julian extra work duty as punishment for his complaint.

He left the shelter and stepped into the rain, climbing onto the firing step next to his friend to peer through a hole in the sandbagged breastwork across no man’s land. How long before they’d be asked to go over the top? And when they went, what would they find, other than more mud and bullets? “They’re awfully quiet over there.”

Maximo Durand turned from his study of the German positions. He removed his kepi and wiped at his brow before replacing the visored cap. He gestured behind the line, where the artillery batteries were set. “At the rate our field guns are firing, there won’t be anyone left to attack.”

“Someone will survive. And they’ll be expecting us.” Only a fool wouldn’t recognize that a major attack was coming, and for all their faults, the Germans were no fools. Julian checked his rifle for the fourth time that morning to ensure it was loaded and clean, but he didn’t think they’d attack in this weather. Soon, he thought. He hoped he would be ready.

Author Bio:

A.L. Sowards grew up in Moses Lake, Washington, then came to Utah to attend BYU and ended up staying. Now she’s a busy mom with young kids, but she does her best to squeeze writing time in between naptime, stroller rides, and homework sessions. She enjoys reading, writing, learning about history, and eating chocolate, sometimes all at once. As an author, she is known for heart-pounding action, memorable characters, careful historical research, clean romance, and family-friendly language. Prior to The Spider and the Sparrow, Sowards wrote four novels set during the Second World War, including two Whitney Award finalists. This is her first novel set during the Great War, but she doubts it will be her last. 

Find A.L. Sowards online at:

ALSowards.com, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, or Goodreads.

Purchase Links:

Amazon  |   Deseret Books  |  Seagull Books

Click HERE weet this Blog Post: spies & saboteurs threaten the WWI Allies THE SPIDER AND THE SPARROW @ALSowards http://bit.ly/1T5PZ1j #WedWonders

Wednesday Wonders: BECKY'S KISS

Nicholas Fisher is a college professor and a sports enthusiast. He writes adult horror under another name, but thought of the idea for Becky’s Kiss while coaching his son’s baseball team. Since the story involved high school drama he decided to write his first young adult piece. When not writing or teaching, Nicholas Fisher enjoys pizza, reality television, and playing the banjo. He lives in Pennsylvania with his wife and his son goes to Arizona State University.

http://nicholasfisherbooks.weebly.com/

https://www.facebook.com/nicholasfisherbooks/

https://twitter.com/NicholasFisherA 

Synopsis:
Becky Michigan meets the boy of her dreams on her first day of ninth grade, a gorgeous blonde baseball player named Danny with crystal blue eyes, but no one else in the school ever heard of him. To make matters worse, Becky starts having dreams that she is the greatest pitcher on the planet, and when she throws an orange in the cafeteria at more than 90 miles per hour, she has some questions for the boy who keeps disappearing.

The stronger Becky’s feelings grow for Danny the faster she throws, and the faster she throws the less he shows up! Suddenly she is offered the opportunity to try out for the varsity baseball team, a shot at being popular for once, but does this mean she has to give up the hope of ever finding true love? All answers come to light out behind the high school at midnight, on an old overgrown ball field in the woods behind the real one, fifty feet off the third baseline. It is a magic field. One of dreams. Or possibly nightmares.

http://www.amazon.com/Beckys-Kiss-Nicholas-Fisher-ebook/dp/B016NGFXI8

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beckys-kiss-nicholas-fisher/1122797722

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/becky-s-kiss

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Nicholas_Fisher_Becky_s_Kiss?id=2Vq4CgAAQBAJ&hl=en

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/585214

Ready for a snippet?

There was only one place left to sit in the crowded cafeteria, at the empty table by the trash cans next to the concrete support beam that had a poster of Frederick Douglass on it. It was an old science desk at the edge of the walking aisle separating the two halves of the room, and one of its legs was broken at the base. The wobble-table.  For losers.

One kid was sitting there, the Asian boy from English class. He had stuck his math book under the short leg, and was politely sipping soup, robotic and rigid, nothing else on his tray but a couple of pieces of fruit. Becky walked over, pulled out the chair across from him, and slipped off her backpack.

“What’s your name?” she said.

He was startled, but clearly glad he had a visitor.

“Joe,” he said.  “Joey Chen.”  He smiled then, and even though he had funny teeth, the expression had an interesting effect, like craft-show glass, like sidewalk art. His eyes glinted.  “You,” he said, “are Becky Michigan.”

She shrugged.

“Are you new here?”

He looked down at his soup.

“I am from China. I been here one year, three months, eleven days.”

Becky sighed. A whole year and he was eating lunch alone. And counting the days.

“You like this great food?” she said.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“And I don’t like bullies,” he said. “This place is full of them.”

Becky sighed again, and then something hit her in the ear. The projectile rolled and wobbled across the table, settling at the far edge. It was a grape. A purple grape.

Another one struck her right on the end of the nose, leaving a hint of moisture, making her blink stupidly, and yet another plinked off her forehead. So immature! Bullies, oh yes, Joey had a point now didn’t he? She pushed back her chair and looked over in the general direction of the assault. There, across the aisle and about eighteen rows down, was Cody Hatcher, the big kid who had been teasing her in English class, sitting at the edge of the table with what seemed to be four of his idiot friends, all of them laughing like hyenas, one stamping his foot he was so overcome with the hilarity of it all. Hatcher stopped and looked right at Becky. He reached in front of him and took a purple grape off the stem. He put it in his mouth and chewed real slow. Swallowed. Licked his top lip and winked. Then his friends were laughing again, slapping him on the back.

Becky didn’t think, she just acted. Joe didn’t have time to move. In a flash, she reached across the table, knocked over his milk, grabbed his orange, and pivoted back, side-stepping into the aisle. She had a split second to look at her target, and Hatcher had his mouth open, all teeth, eyes up at the ceiling he was laughing so hard.

She kicked up a knee and spread her hands, throwing-arm dangling way low behind her. There was a moment of perfect balance there, and then her body became a machine: all hot fluid and angry levers. She stepped into it deep, cocked up her arm, snapped her hips, and fired.           The orange flew out of her hand as if on a clothesline. Even through the noise, she could hear it hiss through the air, and heads turned with it as if in slow motion. Hatcher had just enough time to adjust his eyes from the ceiling and focus on what was coming. It hit him square in the forehead with a hard splat and his hands flew up. It knocked him straight back out of his chair, and the fruit ruptured in a blast of spray and peel.

People roared. Gossip exploded, and Becky could hear a lot of “Did you see that?” and “Who is that girl?” and “What happened?” and “Did you see how freakin’ hard she chucked that?” Everything was echoing, sounding unreal, and the teachers on lunch duty were darting their eyes all around to pinpoint exactly where the disturbance was. Becky got back in her chair, and Joe had his mouth open.

Becky was trying not to shake. “He had it coming,” she managed.

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Branding Wednesday Wonders

Now that I am getting more comfortable using twitter banners to promote blogs and books, I decided it was time to "brand" my Wednesday Wonders feature for this blog.

I started several weeks ago to use a nameplate at the top of every Wednesday Wonders blog post featuring guest authors. My intent was to set this apart from blogs that are about me and my books.

For Twitter banners and images to put on Facebook, I have been using a variation of a banner for Robyn Echols Books with a blank background in four color choices. Here are two:

Today I worked on a Twitter banner blank that I can use with every guest author I feature. I chose an image that is compatible with my Yosemite background shot I have been using for my Facebook, Blogger and Twitter banner for the past several years. I pulled up a new photo I took late last fall, the same one I used for my "Happy Thanksgiving" wish to my friends, family and followers:

Unfortunately, when I tried to insert a book in the blue sky portion, the background image was so busy it overwhelmed the book I planned to feature. So, back to the photo-editing program. I pulled up another image of the same scene, but one that involved a lighter sky, less of El Capitan and more of Cathedral Rocks. A little cropping, greening up my trees, adding my logo and contact information and -- Ta da! -- my new banner for featuring Wednesday Wonders books:

I'll see how this goes for awhile -- until I come up with something different.