Posts Tagged ‘Caroline Warfield’

Tell Again Tuesday

A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.



The Heart of a Writer

By Caroline Warfield

After two weeks of driving and visiting, I’m back at my desk today. A highlight was lunch with old friends from Central Ohio Fiction Writers. It was a joy to catch up on everyone’s work, and share with people who love the craft! One topic of particular interest—approaches to starting a new book. Every writer is different.

I’ve learned over the years that my process is iterative. I begin with the characters, a main one or two but usually an ensemble of people, almost always family members. i consider the main characters . . .

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Tell Again Tuesday

A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.



The Artist Who Dressed As She Pleased

By Caroline Warfield

Rosa Bonheur dressed in trousers when women were still trussed in corsets. She required permission from the prefect of police to do so, but she was unapologetic about her choices. She lived her life as she pleased. She said, “The epithets of imbeciles have never bothered me.” Among the great Victorian examples of eccentricity Bonheur stands out as someone whose personal life and work intertwined in ways that benefited both.

Best know as a painter and sculptor of animals, she grew up in a household notable for its affiliation with Saint-Simonianism, a . . .

For the rest of the blog go to:

History Imagined blog

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Tell Again Tuesday

A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.



Highlighting Petie McCarty’s research into Regency medicine and the use of (shudder) leeches.

Coming from a scientific background and career, I’m no stranger to research so I eagerly dove into research for weeks for each of my novels before the first draft ever started, checking everything from habitat and indigenous species to climatic conditions of the location chosen for the story. The level of research doubled with Duke du Jour as I immersed myself in the whole Regency era. What shocked the stuffing out of me was the background work I did for the humorous scene where my hero suffers a leech application after he faints upon. . .

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Tell Again Tuesday

A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.



Christmas in the Regency

By Jude Knight

Jude Knight Highlights Christmas romance and reminds us how it was celebrated in the Regency

With Christmas just around the corner, I’ve been wrapping presents, decorating the house, and making lists of ingredients for Christmas baking. I’ve been writing and reading Christmas stories set in the Regency, and thinking about the differences between then and now. And I’m publishing my own box set of novellas and novelettes set at Christmas.

Party on, dude

Many of the Christmas practices we think of as traditional began in. . .

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Tell Again Tuesday

A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.



The Anti-Opium Crusader

By Caroline Warfield

Not all the interesting and colorful characters from the 1830s were British. Lin Zexu, also known as Lin Tse-hsu, a Chinese scholar and government official, rubbed against the British mercantile ambitions of that era with dogged determination and incorruptible integrity. Unfortunately, the First Opium War broke out as one unintended consequence of his efforts. The humiliating defeat and resulting unequal treaty caused in Lin’s downfall. He became a scapegoat and spent much of his remaining years banished to the mountainous central-Asian Xinjiang frontier province of Xinjiang. Today he is widely regarded as a hero in China.

Born August 30, 1785, in in Fujian province in relative poverty, his father, a teacher, made sure he received a classical Confucian education. His brilliance. . .

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History Imagined blog

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Friday Features


Caroline Warfield

An Introduction

When the Bluestocking Belles let their readers select story elements for their next anthology, I was given a trope (a compromising situation that isn’t what it seems) and three other things (a Bible, an heroine in her thirties with hazel eyes, and a wise old man) that I had to include in my story. The setting that popped into my mind almost immediately was France in 1916. You may guess that unleashed the need for research. The result of it all was my story “Roses in Picardy” in the anthology Never Too Late, which goes live November 4. TOMORROW!


Food in the Trenches 1916

First of all, keep in mind that no one starved. The aphorism that an army runs on its stomach was as true then as ever. The armies made every effort to feed their men, even while civilian populations actually were starving. That doesn’t mean they ate well.

Field kitchens existed. When troops rotated out of the trenches they might have the hot coffee, porridge and stews such places provided. Getting to supplies to the kitchens was difficult, however, so they made due with basic rations, and what could be scavenged, including weeds and nettles. Getting food from the kitchens to the trenches was even more difficult. When it arrived it was usually cold and unappetizing. Gas attacks ruined stews and soups.

In the trenches men were given field rations. For British and colonial troops this consisted mainly of tinned meet (usually corned beef or “Bully Beef”), hard biscuits, tea, and bits of salt and sugar. They might also get beef stock powder. Sometimes they got jam or, on rare occasion, a sweet. An alternative to the beef was a horrid concoction of tinned stew called Maconochie Stew, said to be barely edible warm and impossible to eat cold. American troops fared little better although their tinned ration might include salmon or other fish.

A Recipe

Heating food in the trench presented another obstacle. If they could heat it at all, they usually did it over a candle. Camp stoves were rare. The very height of fine dining was probably trench stew. Cookit.com has a recipe for trench stew with these ingredients:

½ can tinned beef

whatever root vegetables you can find (they suggest a turnip and a carrot)

a pint of water

one or two hard biscuits

Stock cube or powder

You can find their recipe here, although you can probably figure out how to make it on your own. If you would like to try it, you might want to purchase reproduction rations. You can find them here: http://17thdivision.tripod.com/rationsoftheageofempire/id7.html


About Roses in Picardy

After two years at the mercy of the Canadian Expeditionary force and the German war machine, Harry is out of metaphors for death, synonyms for brown, and images of darkness. When he encounters color among the floating islands of Amiens and life in the form a widow and her little son, hope ensnares him.





Rosemarie Legrand’s husband left her a tiny son, no money, and a savaged reputation when he died. She struggles to simply feed the boy and has little to offer a lonely soldier.





Are men in Hell happier for a glimpse of Heaven?”

The piercing eyes gentled. “Perhaps not,” the old man said, “but a store of memories might be medicinal in coming months. Will you come back?”

Will I? He turned around to face forward, and the priest poled the boat out of the shallows, seemingly content to allow him his silence.

“How did you arrange my leave?” Harry asked at last, giving voice to a sudden insight.

“Prayer,” the priest said. Several moments later he, added, “And Col. Sutherland in the logistics office has become a friend. I suggested he had a pressing need for someone who could translate requests from villagers.”

“Don’t meddle, old man. Even if they use me, I’ll end up back in the trenches. Visits to Rosemarie Legrand would be futile in any case. The war is no closer to an end than it was two years ago.”

“Despair can be deadly in a soldier, corporal. You must hold on to hope. We all need hope, but to you, it can be life or death,” the priest said.

Life or death. He thought of the feel of the toddler on his shoulder and the colors of les hortillonnages. Life indeed.

The sound of the pole propelling them forward filled several minutes.

“So will you come back?” the old man asked softly. He didn’t appear discomforted by the long silence that followed.

“If I have a chance to come, I won’t be able to stay away,” Harry murmured, keeping his back to the priest.

“Then I will pray you have a chance,” the old man said softly.


About Never Too Late

Eight authors and eight different takes on four dramatic elements selected by our readers—an older heroine, a wise man, a Bible, and a compromising situation that isn’t. Set in a variety of locations around the world over eight centuries, welcome to the romance of the Bluestocking Belles’ 2017 Holiday and More Anthology.

It’s Never Too Late to find love!


The Piper’s Lady by Sherry Ewing

True love binds them. Deceit divides them. Will they choose love?



Her Wounded Heart by Nicole Zoltack

A solitary widow, a landless knight, and a crumbling castle.



A Year Without Christmas by Jessica Cale

An earl and his housekeeper face their feelings for one another in the midst of the English Civil War.



The Night of the Feast by Elizabeth Ellen Carter

One night to risk it all in the midst of the French Revolution.



The Umbrella Chronicles: George & Dorothea’s Story by Amy Quinton

The Umbrella Strikes Again: St. Vincent’s downfall (aka betrothal) is assured.



A Malicious Rumor by Susana Ellis

A harmonious duo is better than two lonely solos for a violinist and a lady gardener.



Forged in Fire by Jude Knight

Forged in volcanic fire, their love will create them anew.



Roses in Picardy by Caroline Warfield

In the darkness of war, hope flickers. In the gardens of Picardy, love catches fire.


You can buy it from various retailers. The links are here. 25% of proceeds benefit the Malala Fund.


Caroline Warfield

Caroline Warfield has been many things. Now retired to the urban wilds of Eastern Pennsylvania, she divides her time between writing and seeking adventures with her grandbuddy and the prince among men she married. Her new series sends the children of the heroes of her earlier books to seek their own happiness in the far-flung corners of the British Empire.


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Tell Again Tuesday

A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.



The Surveyor in Snowshoes

By Caroline Warfield

Wandering around the great medieval cathedral of St. Magnus in Kirkwall, Scotland I came upon an unusual monument among the 14th century stones and 18th century funerary inscriptions. The life-sized statue depicted a man at rest on the ground, with his hands behind his head, his feet encased in moccasins, with both a book and a weapon at his side. The inscription celebrated John Rae M.D. A doctor? On the ground? Additional honorifics after his name identified him as a Fellow of the Royal Society and Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons. I had never heard of the man; I had stumbled upon another one of my colorful Victorians.

It should be no surprise I hadn’t heard of him. While his contemporary and fellow Scotsman, David Livingstone, garnered much greater fame and a memorial in Westminster Abbey, Rae’s contemporaries overlooked his accomplishments. His respect for native peoples earned him little but scorn. Though he died in London, his grave is a quiet corner of the churchyard in Kirkwall.

The statue, as it turned out, made a fitting memorial for a man who lived much of his life out of doors, and whose greatest accomplishments were in. . .

For the rest of the blog go to:

History Imagined blog

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Wednesday Special Spotlight

Shines On

This beautiful cover for Caroline Warfield’s 2017 Christmas Novella, Lady Charlotte’s Christmas Vigil, comes with the announcement that the book is available for pre-order from various retailers. Be sure to get your copy today!

Love is the best medicine and the sweetest things in life are worth the wait, especially at Christmastime in Venice for a stranded English Lady and a dedicated doctor.

About the Book

Lady Charlotte Tyree clings to one dream—to see the splendor of Rome before settling for life as the spinster sister of an earl. But now her feckless brother forces her to wait again, stranded in Venice when he falls ill, halfway to the place of her dreams. She finds the city damp, moldy, and riddled with disease.

As a physician, Salvatore Caresini well knows the danger of putrid fever. He lost his young wife to it, leaving him alone to care for their rambunctious children. He isn’t about to let the lovely English lady risk her life nursing her brother.

But Christmas is coming, that season of miracles, and with it, perhaps, lessons for two lonely people: that love heals the deepest wounds and sometimes the deepest dreams aren’t what we expect.

Pre-order on Amazon here.
Pre-order on Smashwords here.

About the Author

Traveler, poet, librarian, technology manager—award winning and Amazon best-selling author Caroline Warfield has been many things (even a nun), but above all she is a romantic. Having retired to the urban wilds of eastern Pennsylvania, she reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to adventures while she nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart. She is enamored of history, owls, and gardens (but not the actual act of gardening). She is also a regular contributor to History Imagined, a blog at the intersection of history and fiction, and (on a much lighter note) The Teatime Tattler, a blog in the shape of a fictional nineteenth century gossip rag.

Her current series, Children of Empire, set in the late Georgian/early Victorian period, focuses on three cousins, driven apart by lies and deceit, who must find their way back from the distant reaches of the empire.
Click here to find out more here .

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Tell Again Tuesday

A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.



The Cosmetic Huckster

March 31, 2017 by Caroline Warfield

This week’s Victorian character impresses as more than just colorful. Madame Rachel, notorious con artist and flamboyant celebrity, made a fortune off the vanity and gullibility of high society. She may have been an actual madam as well. If she lived today she might well be found as a purveyor of health and beauty products to the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

At the height of her fame, Madame Rachel served clients from a salon on Bond Street, where she welcomed . . .

For the rest of the blog go to: https://historyimagined.wordpress.com/2017/03/31/the-cosmetic-huckster/


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Friday Feature


Caroline Warfield

Caroline shares with us about life, family, travel, and writing.

Life often worms its way into our books. One scene in The Reluctant Wife is a good example.

Beloved and I travel whenever we can. We never met a world capital, scenic wonder, or museum we didn’t like. The vacation that stands out in my mind as our very best, however, happened long ago. I think of it as the night the stars fell.

When our children were small airplanes and distant lands were out of the question. One summer we packed up our tents and headed to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Anyone who has ever been there will understand that I knew it was a magical, blessed time when there were no bugs all week, not even the infamous no-see-ums. Every thing we tried succeeded. The kite went up, was tied to a tent pole, and never came down. We swam, hiked, and dipped for sponges with National Park staff on Ocracoke in peace and harmony.

One night the children crashed right after dark, worn out with fun. Our campsite was a multilevel sand dune, and we had two tents and a dining shelter. Beloved and I went up to the highest point to enjoy the quiet and the starry sky, with the Milky Way spread the length of the horizon. We were overwhelmed at the sight. Then the stars began to fall, and my heart lurched. By sheer good fortune we had camped far from city lights on a moonless night with no obstructions in any direction during the Perseid meteor shower. It was without question a gift from God. After a few stunned moments we ran down the dune and pulled the children out of their tent. They had no idea it was a once in a lifetime sight, but we made sure they saw it.

Fred and Clare see the Perseids in the excerpt below. He leaves the children asleep, however, being otherwise occupied.

The Reluctant Wife

Children of Empire, Book 2

Genre: Pre Victorian, Historical Romance Heat rating: 3 of 5 (two brief -mild- sexual encounters)

ISBN: 978-1-61935-349-9  ASIN: B06Y4BGMX1 Page count: 275 pages

Pub date: April 26, 2017


When all else fails, love succeeds…

Captain Fred Wheatly’s comfortable life on the fringes of Bengal comes crashing down around him when his mistress dies, leaving him with two children he never expected to have to raise. When he chooses justice over army regulations, he’s forced to resign his position, leaving him with no way to support his unexpected family. He’s already had enough failures in his life. The last thing he needs is an attractive, interfering woman bedeviling his steps, reminding him of his duties.

All widowed Clare Armbruster needs is her brother’s signature on a legal document to be free of her past. After a failed marriage, and still mourning the loss of a child, she’s had it up to her ears with the assumptions she doesn’t know how to take care of herself, that what she needs is a husband. She certainly doesn’t need a great lout of a captain who can’t figure out what to do with his daughters. If only the frightened little girls didn’t need her help so badly.

Clare has made mistakes in the past. Can she trust Fred now? Can she trust herself? Captain Wheatly isn’t ashamed of his aristocratic heritage, but he doesn’t need his family and they’ve certainly never needed him. But with no more military career and two half-caste daughters to support, Fred must turn once more—as a failure—to the family he let down so often in the past. Can two hearts rise above past failures to forge a future together?

Find it here: https://smile.amazon.com/Reluctant-Wife-Children-Empire-Book-ebook/dp/B06XYRRR1R/

About Caroline Warfield

Traveler, poet, librarian, technology manager—Caroline Warfield has been many things (even a nun), but above all she is a romantic. Having retired to the urban wilds of eastern Pennsylvania, she reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows while she lets her characters lead her to adventures in England and the far-flung corners of the British Empire. She nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart.

Caroline is a RONE award winner with five star reviews from Readers’ Favorite, Night Owl Reviews, and InD’Tale and an Amazon best-seller. She is also a member of the writers’ co-operative, the Bluestocking Belles. With partners she manages and regularly writes for both The Teatime Tattler and History Imagined.

Website http://www.carolinewarfield.com/

Amazon Author http://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Warfield/e/B00N9PZZZS/

Good Reads http://bit.ly/1C5blTm

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/carolinewarfield7

Twitter @CaroWarfield

Email warfieldcaro@gmail.com

Children of Empire

Three cousins, torn apart by lies and deceit and driven to the far reaches of the empire, struggle to find their way home.


Caroline will give a kindle copy of The Renegade Wife, Book 1 in the series, to one person who comments. She is also sponsoring a grand prize in celebration of her release. You can enter it here: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/2017blogtourpackage/

The prequel to this book, A Dangerous Nativity, is always **FREE**. You can get a copy here: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/bookshelf/a-dangerous-nativity-1815/


Get control of yourself, Clare, a small part of her brain urged, dimly aware that exhaustion and relief made her foolish. She didn’t care. His arms around her back and his shoulder firm beneath her cheek felt solid. Safe. Dependable.

“Easy, easy. It’s only a tent,” he soothed, one hand making gentle circles on her back.

“You thought about us. No one ever—” He had cared for her, she realized, from the moment he found her at the inn in Calcutta comforting his children. No man ever considered my comfort before.

She took a shuddering breath. Dependable? This is Fred Wheatly holding you, the man who— She couldn’t remember what made him undependable just then. She cared only for his kiss on her head, then her ear.

She raised her head. Bending his head down to meet hers, his gentle kiss made no demands, forced no response, and asked only trust. No man had ever kissed her like that. She couldn’t resist him. When he withdrew to search her face, she closed the distance and kissed him back, the taste and scent of sweat, sand, and the essence of male sending her reeling

“Papa? Are we there?”

He broke off the kiss and tipped his forehead to hers, silent laughter rocking him. “We have come to a place. That much is certain,” he responded. Clare didn’t think he referred to the way station.

It was a matter of some minutes to pitch the tent and create a nest for the girls to sleep. Clare stood with her back to the entrance, watching them drift off to sleep. The shelter had enough space to accommodate Clare and Fred as well, if they slept close together. Her heart began to pound.

Fred reached from behind her to take one hand and tug her out of the shelter, taking care to secure the opening. “They’ll be fine for a bit,” he said. “Come with me.”

“I—” Clare hesitated, unsure what to say or even what she wanted.

A crooked smile preceded his pull on her hand. “I won’t bite. I just want you to enjoy this.” He led her several feet away, out from under the scraggly trees of the way station.

Her gaze followed his free hand upward. The moon had sunk lower in the west. To the east, a riotous panorama of stars covered the sky from north to south. She had thought they were abundant in Dehrapur, but nothing in her life had prepared her for the overwhelming vastness of the universe. Her petty fears and concerns shrank to insignificance.

“Come, sit,” he urged. Only when he spread it out did she see the blanket he carried. He pulled her down next to him, and the two stared upward.

“Lie down, you’ll get a stiff neck,” he told her, and she knew it was only logical.

As darkness deepened, more appeared, and then the sky began to fall. She sat up with a gasp.

Fred let out a long sigh at the same time. “We’re privileged. Shooting stars come in showers at times. Only good luck puts us where they can be seen so clearly.”

She lay back down, content to nestle her head on his shoulder. The falling stars continued, one after another in rapid succession—two, three, four at once. All thought ceased, but after a time, her overwrought senses shifted focus from the delights in the sky above to the feel of the man next to her. When he leaned over and began to kiss her in earnest, her mouth opened under his.


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