Weekly Announcements - 30 July 2010

Many of our Unusual Historicals contributors are still at the RWA National Conference in Orlando this week. Best wishes and safe travels to all who attend! We'll be back next week with more updates.

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Congratulations to Margaret Mallory, whose KNIGHT OF PLEASURE is a "Fresh Pick!" at Fresh Fiction.

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Michelle Styles let us know that Mills & Boon is running a contest for unpublished authors, with the main prize being publication of the winning book in one of the London-edited series. The details are at this website. Michelle is also doing one of the Masterclasses, held on September 1, 2010 at Knaresborough library in North Yorkshire. This Masterclass, presented by Mills & Boon, is designed to help showcase the contest opportunities. Best of luck to all who enter!

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Join us Sunday when award-winning Carina Press and Harlequin Blaze Historicals author Hope Tarr will be here to chat about MY LORD JACK and THE TUTOR. She'll be giving away a digital copy of MY LORD JACK to one lucky commenter! Hope you join us then.

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We'll also draw the winner of Carla Capshaw's THE PROTECTOR, an inspirational historical romance set in ancient Rome. You still have time to leave a comment or question for your chance to win.

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Stay with us through the coming weeks when we'll be featuring the best unusual historical authors! Frances Hunter, Donna Russo Morin, Liz Fichera, and Susanna Fraser will be our guests. Join us!

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Remember, you don't have to be an Unusual Historicals contributor to submit good news to the weekend announcements. If it has to do with unusual historicals, we'd love to shout it out to the world! Send announcements to Carrie. See you next week...

Excerpt Thursday: Hope Tarr

This week on Excerpt Thursday we're welcoming Hope Tarr as she celebrates the release of MY LORD JACK from Carina Press. Hope is an award-winning author of thirteen historical and contemporary romances, including THE TUTOR, her latest from Harlequin Historical Blaze. She'll be joining us Sunday to talk about both!

Here's the description of MY LORD JACK:

Once a pampered courtesan in France, Claudia Valemont has lost her mother, her protector, and her lifestyle to the French Revolution. To avoid the guillotine herself, Claudia flees to Scotland to search for her only remaining relative: the father she has never met.

Instead she finds hardship and heartbreak. Penniless, she is forced to steal to survive. Her crime nearly lands her in the hangman's noose—until the hangman himself comes to the rescue. Pleading on her behalf, he gets her sentence commuted to a period of indenture in the village commons under his watchful eye.

Undeniably indebted to her unlikely savior, still Claudia feels more than gratitude--much more. As a harsh Scottish winter descends, her Lord Jack just might heal her wounded heart...

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Former French courtesan Claudia Valemont can't believe her life has come to this: standing in front of a Scottish judge, sentenced to death for stealing a horse. She fled France to find her father and escape the guillotine. Now here she is, facing the same fate--alone, desperate and penniless.

"Hold! I will speak for her."

Burly Scottish hangman Jack Campbell takes pride in his work: serving justice and giving the condemned a quick end to their sorry lives. Why he spoke for that pale, hollow-eyed Frenchwoman he'll never know. But now he's stuck with her, assigned to be her keeper for six months' indenture.

Bound together by the rules of her sentence, Jack and Claudia learn to appreciate their differences. But as their wary affection turns to tender desire, secrets from the past threaten to destroy their future...

A bang of the gavel drove the point home and brought the room to order. "Let the rolls show that the prisoner, one Claudia Valemont, late o' Paris, France, is heretofore remanded to the custody of Master Jack Campbell, occupant of the office of Lord High Executioner to His Majesty, King George the Third, for a term of six months to begin this day and end the first Friday of April in the year of Our Lord 1794, when she shall be released once more into her own keeping." He looked up from the tome and addressed himself to Claudia. "Mark me well, mistress, for I'll say this but the once. Should ye run off at any time o'er the next six months and should ye be so unlucky as to be captured and brought back before me, the original punishment shall stand--ye shall be hangit from the neck until dead. D'ye ken me?"

The prisoner, Mistress Valemont, seemed to sway on her wee feet. "Y-yes, my lord."

For the first time during the proceedings, the judge's angular face relaxed into a smile. "Good, because ye've a verra pretty neck and twould be a rare pity to make me call upon Jack to stretch it."

The room exploded into raucous laughter punctuated with a hand or two of applause. Only three people stood without cracking a smile: the prisoner, her reluctant gaoler--and her accuser, Callum McBride.

Clenching his jaw, Jack turned his back on his brother and made his way to the prisoner's dock. Standing just outside it, Mistress Valemont held out her manacled wrists, staring down at them in a fixed, frozen sort of way while Pol, palsied and more than half blind, struggled to fit the key into the lock.

She looked up as Jack approached, and her blank stare slipped into a scowl. "I suppose I should thank you for saving my life, monsieur."

"Aye, I suppose you should." He turned to Pol and held out his hand for the ring of keys. "I'll have at it if ye dinna mind."

The old man turned the ring of keys over with a grudging air. "'Tis the wee silver one, third on the left," he said, then stumped away to greet his mate, Peadair, who'd risen from the benches.

Key in hand, Jack stepped forward. "If ye'll allow me, mistress..."

She hesitated, then raised her manacled wrists, a wry smile playing about her lips. "It seems, Monsieur le Borreau, that I have no choice."

Author photo by BizUrban.com

Good Times: The First Ward Ball

By Lorelie Brown

Corruption, booze and Chicago.

Nope, I'm not talking about Al Capone. Chicago was a happening place long before him.

Mike "Hinky Dink" Kenna and "Bathhouse" John Coughlin were aldermen for Chicago's First Ward. The First Ward was also known as the Levee, on the south side of the city. Coughlin was a big, brash man who apparently wore very brightly colored clothes and was elected as alderman in 1892. (And he kept up the habit of writing bad poetry. Really bad. Who titles a poem "She Sleeps by the Drainage Canal" in all seriousness?) Kenna was his exact opposite, small and quiet, but he still won election in 1897.

Hinky Dink Kenna (left) and Bathhouse John Coughlin (right).

The Levee wasn't exactly the most posh area of Chicago, not by far. In fact, it was the red light district, where thieves, pickpockets and brawlers roamed. The prostitutes ranged from the cheap tricks of "Bed Bug Row" to the high-class birds of the Everleigh Sisters' establishment, where a bottle of wine was $12 downstairs or $15 in the room. (I promise, it's more money than it sounds like these days.)

So when it came time for fundraising, they did it up right.

Kenna, Coughlin and every other official of the area sold tickets to the First Ward Ball, to be held in December. Buying a ticket was good. Buying a pack of fifty tickets was even better. Not buying tickets could leave a saloon owner or brothel madam to all sorts of harassment--from the police, of course. Ah, extortion at its best. Starting in 1896, the First Ward Ball only got wilder and wilder until 1908, the last year.

But the fun really started at the actual ball. Thousands of people crammed into the Coliseum. At midnight Hinky Dink Kenna and Bathhouse John Coughlin led the entire crowd--well, those who weren't too drunk to stand--in a procession around the floor as the band played "Hail, Hail, The Gang's All Here."

After that, things hit a fevered pitch. Madams handed out free champagne and the bottles were stacked in pyramids--until they became too tall and began to topple. Drunk men ripped at the clothes of unaccompanied women. A thirty-foot bar crumpled under yet another brawl. People dressed in bathing suits, fine gowns and costumes--everything from clowns to Indians--and one notorious whore wore a nun's habit. In the corner, another prostitute whipped willing men's naked butts with a crop.

By 1908, the last year, 30,000 people were crammed in a venue meant for half that number. And every single one of them were determined to get their drink on. Women passed out from the heat (and the booze) and were crowd-surfed to the corner, where they were simply piled in stacks.

I mean seriously. This was a political fundraiser.

But it was also the last of its kind. Reformers had been after Mayor Busse to put a halt to the spectacle, but he'd resisted. The Coliseum was the victim of a bombing December 12, 1908, the day before the ball. It didn't hold them up that year, but next year they were done for. Mayor Busse gave in to pressure from the reformers to deny a liquor license and without alcohol there wasn't much left.

Hinky Dink and Bathhouse John held on to power a little while longer, despite being forced to less dramatic methods of fundraising. Eventually though, they retired. Other men swept in and took their place, including Al Capone. But he'd never hold a torch to the vivid descriptions of the First Ward Ball, at least not in my eyes.

A SAFE HARBOR Winner!

Sorry about the delay, everyone. We have a winner for Moira Rogers' A SAFE HARBOR guest blog. A free copy of goes to:

JEN M.!

Contact Carrie to provide your mailing address. The book must be claimed by next Sunday or another winner will be drawn. Please stop back later to let us know what you thought! Congratulations!

Good Times: Parlor Games

By Jennifer Linforth

In preparation to interview an escape artist, gambler, and magician for an upcoming book set in Victorian London, I stumbled into the world of Victorian parlor games. I needed one for the opening of this book and found "Poor Pussy." Strangely enough my magician's wife recalls playing a game called "Pat the Kitty" as a child.

Gathering together for parlor games was popular in the evenings in Victorian families. The central theme of many of them were games involving trying not to laugh. Poor Pussy was one of them. It involved one proper guest having to mill around on all fours amongst the seated company, meowing and stopping in front of someone who then had to say "poor pussy" without ever cracking a smile. Neither the cat or guest could smile. If one of them did the latter was the next cat.

I never recalled playing that as a child but I do remember this...

The Laughing Game where players sat in a circle and one says "ha." The next, "ha-ha" and so on until someone laughed in earnest.

Many games we know today stemmed from Victorian parlor games. Red-Light, Green Light, Simon Says, Charades and Musical Chairs. Hot Potato of today sounds very similar to the game of "Change" where an object was passed in a circle and directions shifted out of the blue.

Hunt the Thimble sounds like great fun. The mistress of the house would hide a tiny object in a room and guests would have to search for it. When they found it, they simply took their seat until one poor person was left still looking for the item.

Victorians seemed to enjoy embarrassing each other...

...or catching each other for that matter. There were many versions of Duck, Duck, Goose then called Wolf and the Lambs.

Memory games such as Grandmother's Trunk were wildly popular (hence the interview with my magician who is a master of Victorian memory games. His website is here: Dr. Wilson ) In this game a player would say "My grandmother has a trunk and in it is.... apples" or some such item beginning with the letter A. Around the room they would go, each guest having to build on this list with a new item with the following letter while remembering and reciting as well all the items before!

Way more fun than Wii? Oui?

Good Times: Lord of Misrule

By Anna C. Bowling

The English tradition of the Lord of Misrule, a fixture of Christmas feasts until well into the sixteenth century, originated with the ancient Roman feast of the saturnalia. To honor the god Saturn, Romans turned the social order upside down, with nobles behaving as servants and servants set at their masters' tables. Master waited upon slave, with great feasting and merriment, all overseen by the Lord of Misrule, a servant who could order anyone to do anything he pleased to keep the party going. Well, at least until the end of the festival. Then he was sacrificed.

When Romans expanded into Britain, they brought their festivities with them, mixing with the locals. The Celts had their own version of the Lord of Misrule, called the Year King, who could also command the favors of any woman he fancied.

With the advent of Christianity, some of the old Saturnalian traditions became incorporated into Christmas celebrations. Most important for those Lords of Misrule who came later, the sacrificial aspect fell by the wayside and the fun became the main part of the function. During the appointed Christmas season, the Lord of Misrule dressed in motley clothing and could command those usually counted as his betters to do silly, amusing or even embarrassing things. Games, songs, races, dances and other entertainments all fell under his duties as well as plays or masques. There might also be a mock court, with charges, defenses and penalties all falling under the patently absurd.

How far the revelry extended could vary from place to place, depending on the individual Lord. Accounts exist of honest travelers who happened to pass through certain towns with ribald Lords finding themselves accosted and spanked before being allowed to go on their way. Cross-dressing, indoor animal races and a general drop in inhibitions did not go over well with some clergy, who preferred people have a more reverent celebration of Christ's birth. By the time the practice faded out in the late sixteenth century, one might even find professional Lords of Misrule, actors or entertainers who would hire themselves out during the season for the sole purpose of creating the liveliest, wildest celebration possible. Part party planner, part clown, part public relations professional, such a professional might well find themselves able to command quite a fee for filling exactly that position today.

Traces of the Lord of Misrule's traditions still carry on today, with the modern Christmas cracker, a cardboard tube wrapped in festive paper. Crackers make a popping sound when pulled, yielding a nominal prize, often a paper hat or crown.

Guest Author: Carla Capshaw

This week on Excerpt Thursday we're welcoming back Steeple Hill Love Inspired author Carla Capshaw as she celebrates the release of her latest historical romance, THE PROTECTOR, set in ancient Rome. THE PROTECTOR is the sequel to her double-RITA nominated debut, THE GLADIATOR, which we featured last year. RT Book Reviews gave THE PROTECTOR four stars and writes, "The Protector is a heartfelt love story. Fans of this era and of Rome will not be disappointed."

Former merchant turned slave and gladiator trainee, Quintus Ambustus will do almost anything to earn his freedom. Enslaved for his faith in Christ, he hopes someday to find a Christian woman to marry and share his life. A friend of Quintus's master, Adiona Leonia is one of wealthiest, most beautiful women in Rome. She has good reason to despise men and has vowed never to wed.

Although each of them is attracted to the other, they're determined to fight their feelings. But when an attacker threatens Adiona's life and Quintus is made her protector, neither can resist their fascination. As Adiona learns to trust, first Quintus, and then his God, Quintus learns the Lord's gifts sometimes come in the most unexpected packages and in ways he never dreamed possible.

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Your new book, THE PROTECTOR, is set in Rome, 81 AD. How much research did it take to be able to get a feel for that era in time?

I've always loved learning about ancient Rome. The people and art fascinate me. When I wrote THE GLADIATOR, the prequel to THE PROTECTOR, ancient Rome seemed a natural fit for me to use as a setting because I already knew something about it from previous studies. I went to Italy for three weeks, read up on specifics like the workings of the Coliseum and watched hours of History channel specials on the period.

Can you tell us little about THE PROTECTOR.

THE PROTECTOR is a sequel to my first published novel, THE GLADIATOR. The hero and heroine are Quintus and Adiona. Quintus is a Christian who was sentenced to death for his beliefs. While waiting for execution, he was sold to a slave trader, then to a gladiator school. He's trying to earn his freedom and return to his hometown to make sure his son, who died just before Quintus's trial, received a proper burial, since funeral rites were paramount to first century people. Adiona is a socialite, who hides a lifetime of pain behind a mask of indifference and a lot of attitude. She has good reasons to hate men and has sworn them off for good. Unfortunately for her, she can't shake her attraction to Quintus. Quintus is hugely attracted to Adiona, but doesn't want anything to do with her for reasons of his own.

When someone tries to assassinate Adiona, Quintus is made her bodyguard. Adiona has to leave Rome and Quintus accompanies her for protection. Away from the intrigues of Rome and the differences in their social status, they're finally able to learn the truth about one another and what's really important to each of them.

Your stories bring together people from vastly diverse worlds who seemingly will never find spiritual or emotional accord, much less romance. What is the impetus behind this approach? What do you hope to accomplish with your themes?

As a reader, I need big conflicts to keep me interested. The same with my writing. I figure if a story isn't interesting no one will get anything out of it, so I do my best to make it compelling from beginning to end.

You write about eras other than ancient Rome, specifically the Revolutionary War period. Will you be writing about other eras, as well?

I hope so! The best part of writing for me is getting to learn about other eras through research and travel to those locations. I'm always thinking up new plots to go along with whatever time I'm interested in at the moment. Right now, I'm working on the third and final story in my Roman series. Once I'm done, I plan to work on a new Victorian series I've been dreaming up.

What else would you like to say to your readers?

Just that I appreciate them and that I love to hear from them. They can reach me at Carla@carlacapshaw.com or visit my website to find my links to most of the social networks like Facebook and Goodreads.

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Would you like to win a signed copy of THE PROTECTOR? Just let us know! Leave a comment or question for Carla, and I'll draw a winner at random in one week. Void where prohibited. Best of luck, and good luck to Carla next week when the RITA awards are announced!

Weekly Announcements - 23 July 2010

Congratulations to Unusual Historicals reader E. D. Walker who just sold her paranormal historical, THE BEAUTY'S BEAST, to Noble Romance Publishing's Sweetheart Line. The story draws from fairy tale elements, as well as Marie de France's medieval lais, "Bisclavret." More details as they are announced.

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Jeannie Lin has the cover for her upcoming Harlequin Historicals Undone short story, "THE TAMING OF MEI LIN," which is set during the Tang Dynasty and linked to BUTTERFLY SWORDS. Click here to read more about it, including an excerpt.

When a corrupt local official wants to take Mei Lin as, not second, but third wife, she rebels and makes an outrageous declaration--she'll only marry a man if he can defeat her in a swordfight. She has managed to fend off the local thugs and village hopefuls, but then a tall, mysterious stranger comes into town...

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Next week is the RWA National Conference! You will find the following Unusual Historicals contributors in attendance: Zoe Archer, Lila DiPasqua, Blythe Gifford, Jeannie Lin, Carrie Lofty, Margaret Mallory, Isabel Roman, and Michelle Styles. Here are some workshops and events where you can find us:

Wednesday, July 28th, at the "Readers for Life" Booksigning: Blythe Gifford, Carrie Lofty, Margaret Mallory, and Michelle Styles.

Thursday, July 29th at 4:30: "The Tiny Art of Elevator Pitches: How to Craft Them and How to Use Them" with speaker Carrie Lofty. Learn techniques to creating an elevator pitch that is concise, effective, and memorable.

Friday, July 30th at 2:00: "Selling the Hard Sell" with speaker Jeannie Linn. An author who sold that hard-sell novel (BUTTERFLY SWORDS) discusses how she used marketing perspective to get from slush pile to sale.

Friday, July 30th at 3:15: "Beyond Britain: Writing, Selling and Promoting Unusual Historicals" with speakers Zoe Archer, Jade Lee, Carrie Lofty, Kevan Lyon, and Sherry Thomas. Join an agent and four authors who successfully sold books set in unusual times and places as they offer techniques and advice for those interested in writing unusual historicals.

Saturday, July 31st at 8:30AM: "Dress for Historical Success" with speakers Elisabeth Burke, Isobel Carr, Peg Herring, Coralie Jensen, Julia Justiss, Jade Lee, Jeannie Lin, Pam Nowak, and Judy Ridgley. Authors put in hundreds of hours researching the correct clothing styles for their stories. This fashion show features costumes from a variety of time periods and will educate attendees on how to achieve historical accuracy in costume.

Also make sure to stop in the publishers' signings for free books by many of our authors, and root for RITA-nominated contributors and former guests of Unusual Historicals: Carla Capshaw (Best First Book and Best Inspirational for THE GLADIATOR, set in ancient Rome), Margaret Mallory (Best Historical Romance for KNIGHT OF PLEASURE, set in medieval Wales), and Sherry Thomas (Best Historical Romance for NOT QUITE A HUSBAND, set in 1890s Kashmir). Best of luck, ladies!

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Join us Sunday when Steeple Hill Love Inspired author Carla Capshaw will be here to chat about her latest Roman-set inspirational romance, THE PROTECTOR. She'll be giving away a signed copy to one lucky commenter! Hope you join us then.

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We'll also draw the winner of Moira Rogers' A SAFE HARBOR, a paranormal romance set during the Great Depression. You still have time to leave a comment or question for your chance to win.

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Stay with us through the coming weeks when we'll be featuring the best unusual historical authors! Hope Tarr, Frances Hunter, Donna Russo Morin and Liz Fichera will be our guests. Join us!

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Remember, you don't have to be an Unusual Historicals contributor to submit good news to the weekend announcements. If it has to do with unusual historicals, we'd love to shout it out to the world! Send announcements to Carrie. See you next week...

Excerpt Thursday: Carla Capshaw

This week on Excerpt Thursday we're welcoming back Steeple Hill Love Inspired author Carla Capshaw as she celebrates the release of her latest historical romance, THE PROTECTOR, set in ancient Rome. THE PROTECTOR is the sequel to her double-RITA nominated debut, THE GLADIATOR, which we featured last year. RT Book Reviews gave THE PROTECTOR four stars and writes, "The Protector is a heartfelt love story. Fans of this era and of Rome will not be disappointed."

Carla will be here on Sunday to talk about her latest Roman-set romance and give away a signed copy. Hope you'll join us!

Former merchant turned slave and gladiator trainee, Quintus Ambustus will do almost anything to earn his freedom. Enslaved for his faith in Christ, he hopes someday to find a Christian woman to marry and share his life. A friend of Quintus's master, Adiona Leonia is one of wealthiest, most beautiful women in Rome. She has good reason to despise men and has vowed never to wed.

Although each of them is attracted to the other, they're determined to fight their feelings. But when an attacker threatens Adiona's life and Quintus is made her protector, neither can resist their fascination. As Adiona learns to trust, first Quintus, and then his God, Quintus learns the Lord's gifts sometimes come in the most unexpected packages and in ways he never dreamed possible.

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Rome, 81 AD

"Have you lost your mind, Caros?" Incredulous, Adiona stared at her friend as though he'd grown two heads. The very idea of Quintus Ambustus acting as her bodyguard made her tremble.

"No, I'm sane enough." Caros crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the marble desktop. Morning sunlight streamed through the office's east-facing windows and glinted off the jewel-toned tiles in the mosaic floor. "You need a strong, trustworthy leader for your guard if you mean to leave for Neopolis anytime soon."

"Quintus is capable for certain, but he despises me. What makes you think he'll agree to your plan?"

"He doesn't despise you." He ignored her snort of disbelief. "He's already agreed."

Her heart skipped a hopeful beat. "He has?"

"He wants to earn funds to buy his freedom. Your situation provides a perfect solution to that end."

"Yes, perfect," she said tightly, wounded by the knowledge that Quintus had to be bought in order to spend time with her. She tugged the leaf off of a potted plant, grateful Caros hadn't noticed the root of melancholy growing inside her. "Why force him to buy his freedom? You've released your other slaves and kept only volunteers since you became one of those Christians. Why not simply release him? You have no need of money."

"I've tried. He calls it charity and won't accept my offer. The two of you need each other." She cringed at the idea of needing anyone. Unlike most men, Caros wasn't stupid. He possessed hawk-like powers of observation. He was aware of how attracted she was to Quintus and just how much Quintus chafed at being within a mile of her. If she didn't know him better, she'd think her long time friend was making a cruel joke at her expense. "I thought when you wed Pelonia you'd grow tired of meddling in my affairs."

His smirk slid into a full grin. She gritted her teeth, vexed she seemed incapable of sparking the tiniest flame of irritation in him when his plans had left her capsized and floundering.

She moved to the window in need of air and something to focus on beside the conflicting mix of excitement, longing and fear that threatened to drive her mad.

Gladiators trained in the field below. She winced when she caught herself searching greedily for the tall Christian who tormented her thoughts by day and her dreams by night.

She twisted the end of her long braid with her fingers. The clack of wooden practice swords and the glint of sunlight on shields reminded her of the attack the previous evening. She closed her eyes, absorbing the loss of her men, men she barely knew and shared no bond with beyond that of master and slave. What if Quintus were her protector and she was attacked again? What if Quintus suffered the same deadly fate as Titus and her other guards?

She clutched her chest as a sudden rush of anguish robbed her of breath. She must keep him safe. How would she ever be able to live with herself if any harm came to him because of her?

"Adiona?" Caros asked.

"What?" Embarrassed by her overwrought reaction, she wrenched her eyes open and pretended interest in the gladiator practice.

"Are you well?"

"Of course," she whispered just as she spotted Quintus training with another gladiator in the center of the field.

Her traitorous heart leapt at the sight of him and his powerful movements mesmerized her. A voice of reason clamored in the back of her mind to leave the window before he saw her, but her feet seemed buried in the concrete floor.

Without warning, Quintus broke from the fight and glanced her way as though he her presence called to him from across the sand. He turned slowly toward the house. The sharp, angular cut of his jaw was locked tight, his full lips unsmiling. Sweat poured down his temples and the bronze column of his throat, soaking the front of his dark tunic. His muscled arms and legs seemed relaxed in their stillness, but the intensity in his gaze exposed the turbulent inner man that both frightened and fascinated her.

Good Times: Shivaree

By Elizabeth Lane

Frontier weddings were a great excuse for celebration. Given time, money and good weather, the bride and groom might host a picnic or dance for their guests. But the liveliest form of wedding entertainment was the shivaree--the hazing of the newlyweds on their wedding night.

The origins of the word "charivari" are likely from the Roman caribaria, meaning headache or the Greek kerebaria: kera (head) and barys (heavy), named for the effect of the cacophony on the hapless newlyweds. The tradition has been practiced for at least 700 years as it is depicted in an engraving in "Roman de Fauvel"--an early 14th century French manuscript.

Charivari, or shivaree, started as a French folk custom, going back to the Middle Ages. It was originally a mark of disfavor--for example, if the neighbors thought a widow had remarried too soon. But in the American West, the shivaree was all in fun.

One writer describes the shivaree as a combination of trick-or-treating, fraternity hazing, and Christmas caroling. The participants would gather at a neighbor's place, maybe having a few drinks to warm up. As night fell, they would converge on the house where the newlyweds had gone, trying to arrive shortly after the couple got into bed. On a signal, they would start singing, yelling, and banging on pots and pans. If the couple refused to come out, they would bang on the door, demanding to come inside and have a drink.

If the groom opened the door and gave them money or a treat they might go away and finish the party somewhere else. But if the uproar was ignored, they might break in, kidnap the groom, take him far away, and leave him to find his way home in the dark--perhaps undressed.

One Kansas newspaper provides the following description of a shivaree party: "They performed such tricks as shooting bullets through the windows, breaking down the door, dragging the couple out of bed and tumbling them about on the floor, and indulging in other equally innocent tricks." The editor added, "It requires backbone to get married out this way."

My prim little grandma, who married in the early 1900s, described the shivaree that took place on her wedding night. A group of friends showed up demanding to come in for refreshments. She and Grandpa barred the door and wouldn't let the celebrants in.

Even in my day, growing up in a small western town, the shivaree wasn't an unknown custom, especially if the bride and groom were in their teens, with lots of friends around. I've heard of friends sneaking into a reserved motel room, short-sheeting the bed (if you have to ask what that is you're a lot younger than I am) and doing things to the toilet that involved saran wrap, Vaseline or Jello. I myself have enjoyed decorating a friend's car with embarrassing slogans and yards of toilet paper.

How about you? Do you know of anyone who's been shivareed? Have you ever played tricks on someone at a wedding? Did anyone play tricks at your wedding?

Good Times: Food Fight

By Zoe Archer

No, Bluto, not that kind of food fight.

It seems that as long as there have been cultures blessed with a surplus of food, there have been food fights. Frenetic, messy, anarchic food fights. A collective release of aggression that also, mysteriously, builds community. One moment, you’re throwing tomatoes at your neighbor’s head, the next moment, you wrap them in a tomatoey, pulpy hug.

Our food fight tour begins first in Spain, where the famous Tomatina Food Fight is held in the village of Buñol, near Valencia. If you happen to be in Buñol on the fourth Wednesday of August, be sure to wear clothing you don’t mind getting stained. La Tomatina is a fairly recent event, its earliest origins dating to somewhere in the 1940s. Apparently, a civil disturbance in the town lead to a confrontation with local police, and this degenerated (or evolved) into a tomato fight.

That food fight was so popular that it became an annual occurrence, and is now a huge tourist attraction, drawing more than 20,000 eager tomato-throwers from around the world. A week-long fiesta culminates in a climactic tomato battle. Trucks laden with 90,000 pounds of tomatoes rumble into town, and people on the backs of the trucks throw tomatoes into the crowd. The crowd retaliates, and soon a full-blown batalla takes place between anyone and everyone who happens to be in throwing distance. Within thirty minutes, the battle is over, and combatants/celebrants all head down to the river for a good wash.

For those of you who need more vitamin C, we head to the small Italian town of Ivrea, 40 miles north of Turin. Here, during Carnival, the local citizens commemorate an 1194 insurrection against a local despot with a Battle of the Oranges. Popular lore has it that the tyrant attempted to exercise his droit de seigneur with an unwilling maiden on the eve before her wedding. The maiden, Violetta, turned the tables on her would-be assailant and decapitated him, after which, the populace stormed and destroyed the castle.

The event and assertion of independence is celebrated by teams of Aranceri (orange handlers) on foot throwing oranges at Aranceri riding in carts. Originally, beans were thrown by the celebrants, but some time in the 19th century oranges became the projectiles of choice--which are considerably harder than beans, especially after a winter frost. No wonder many of the Aranceri wear helmets.

Stretching the definition of "food fight," we head north, to Cooper’s Hill, near Gloucester in England. During the Spring Bank Holiday, local citizens and tourists make a mad dash down a steep hill for a wheel of Double Gloucester cheese. It’s estimated that the event is over two hundred years old, though between 1941 and 1954, a wooden cheese took the place of the actual cheese due to rationing. During the event, a round of cheese is rolled down Cooper's Hill and, one second later, competitors race after the cheese. The hill is very steep, and not only does the cheese reach high velocity, so do the racers. Sprains and broken bones are not uncommon. Separate races are run for men, women and children, with the winners receiving small monetary compensation as well as a wheel of cheese--but everyone who tumbles down Cooper's Hill in pursuit of Double Gloucester is a winner. Surely Wallace would agree.

Good Times: Horse Racing

By Jacquie Rogers

When the first two people walked the face of this earth, one of them had to prove he could go faster than the other. Whatever means was available in any time and place, people have raced. Foot races, camel races, elephant races, buffalo races, ostrich races...on and on. Hey, the human race is called the "human race." Must be something to that.

And horse races.

Probably the oldest continuous horse race in the world is held in Mongolia, the Naadam Festival, featuring the Eriin Gurvan Naadam--the three manly sports of archery, wrestling, and horse racing. The horse races are from 12 to 35 kilometers in length and the riders, both boys and girls, are from four to 12 years of age (the minimum age was recently raised to six years old). The horses are trained rigorously for this event, and the winner brings great prestige to its owner.

In Britain, knights arrived home from the Crusades with Arabian horses--warm bloods that where sleek and fast. These were bred with the Hobby horses native to the British Isles. Henry VIII had a bad case of racing fever, then his daughter, Elizabeth I, continued improving the breeding program. This went on until Cromwell, who switched from breeding for speed to breeding for the cavalry. At any rate, Englishmen were dedicated to thoroughbred horse racing from then on.

Professional horse racing as we know it started in the 1700s during the rein of Queen Anne. Later in 1750, the Jockey Club was formed, which created the rules generally used today. In the 1790s, James Weatherby recorded all the horses' pedigrees in the General Stud Book. His descendants have been the keepers of the General Stud Book to this day.

Britain's five race classics are: Derby Stakes, the Oaks, the One Thousand Guineas, the Saint Leger, and the Two Thousand Guineas. The Saint Leger is the oldest, formed in 1776. The Derby Stakes, named after the 12th Earl of Derby and held at Epsom Downs, is the richest and most prestigious of Britain's races.

The Belmont Stakes is the oldest of the USA's Triple Crown. The first race was held in 1867. The Preakness started in 1873 and the Kentucky Derby (at the right) began in 1875. These races followed the English tradition, and the Belmont even specified the saddles must be made by Merry of St. James Street, London. The term "Triple Crown" was first used in the 1930s and was coined after Britain's Triple Crown.

While reading The Owyhee Avalanche (Homedale, Idaho), I saw this article in the "Looking Back" section, republished from the July 9, 1870, issue of The Owyhee Avalanche (then in Silver City, Idaho Territory).

THE FOURTH AT WAGONTOWN

A number of our citizens attended the races at Wagontown last Monday. Everything passed off in the most satisfactory manner. There were four races of a quarter of a mile each, as follows: LW Walker's chestnut horse and Jno Catalows's sorrel mare, for $50 a side, won by the latter. Second, Tim Shay's sorrel horse and Frenchman's roan filly, for $40 a side, won by Shay's horse. Third, Catalow's sorrel mare and Frenchman's sorrel horse, for $50 a side, Catalow's mare winner. Fourth, Jordans's black mare and Tom Walls' gray horse, for $45 a side, Jordan's mare winner.

That's pretty good money for 140 years ago, but a pittance compared to what went on in San Francisco, CA.

Gradually, as wealthy men made a hobby or a sideline of breeding horses, Western races became more carefully orchestrated, the crowds grew and betting flourished. Indeed, gambling and a day at the races became a virtually synonymous. And when Westerners got around to staging formal stakes races the prizes were sometimes much richer than those back East. In 1873 what was billed as "the richest race in the world" was run at Ocean View Park in San Francisco. The winner's purse was $20,000 paid in gold. In the same year New York's famous Belmont was worth only $5,200 and Maryland's Preakness a mere $1,800. ~ From: Gamblers of the Old West, p.200

Currently, Mongolia hosts the longest horse race in the world, 1,000 kilometers. It's actually patterned after Ghengis Khan's mail system, where a horse and rider had to go from water to water, usually about 30 kilometers. Think Pony Express. The US certainly wasn't the first to come up with that system.

There's every iteration of horse racing you can think of: barrel races, sulky races, chariot races, suicide races, wild horse races, endurance races, and many more. Mule racing is becoming popular now, too.

I read that horse racing is the second most popular sport in the United States. That's interesting because in today's society, a lot more people know how to drive cars than know how to ride horses, so you'd think horse racing enthusiasm would diminish. But all over the world, horse racing is as popular as ever.

Sources:
Horse Racing History
History of Horse Racing
Belmont Stakes
The Owyhee Avalanche

I wish Good Times to all of you!
Jacquie

Down Home Ever Lovin' Mule Blues (See the Book Video featuring Justin Saragueta)
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Michelle Willingham Guest Post Winners!

We have the winners for Michelle Willingham's "INNOCENT IN THE HAREM" guest blog. Michelle was offering three prizes. I separated all commenters into three categories based on their preference. If no preference was given, I put them into a category at random. Then winners were chosen at random from each category. All clear? Yay for transparency!

A copy "INNOCENT IN THE HAREM" goes to: Belinda!
A copy of "PLEASURED BY THE VIKING" goes to: Obe!
A copy of SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR goes to: flchen1!

Contact Carrie to provide your mailing address. The book must be claimed by next Sunday or another winner will be drawn. Please stop back later to let us know what you thought! Congratulations!

Guest Author: Moira Rogers

This week on Unusual Historicals we're featuring Samhain author Moira Rogers as she celebrates the release of A SAFE HARBOR, a paranormal set during the Great Depression. Here's the blurb:

During the bite of the Great Depression, sole female dominant Joan Fuller struggles against the rise of cruelty among her alpha counterparts. The men tolerate her interference--until she breaks from the pack and allies with a witch and a vampire. Now the Boston alpha intends to bring them all forcibly back into the fold--and teach her a lesson she may not survive.

Seamus Whelan and his werewolf bootleggers intend to retire from smuggling and savor their fortune, but first they must do a favor for an old friend: escort some female wolves to safety. An easy job, if their leader wasn't a prim ex-debutante with enough power to challenge Seamus himself. Chance makes them allies; powerful need makes them lovers.

Together, they have the opportunity to build a sanctuary for their kind, but first they must free themselves from Joan's past, and the powerful man who would see her destroyed.

***

Why the Great Depression?

In our contemporary paranormal series, we have a paranormal culture that was twisted when the wrong people took power. It made sense to us that the quickest way to overcome natural selection was an event that transcended power and struck at the heart of survival.

The Great Depression seemed like the perfect time for money to overtake tradition and let a new set of rules come into play. So when we decided to go back and write about this turning point, there was no other choice!

What research challenges did you face?

Much of A SAFE HARBOR and its sequel, UNDERTOW, takes place on a remote island off the coast of Maine. In many ways, we were writing frontier level technology in a Great Depression setting, which meant we had to know what our characters would have--and what they'd be missing!

The other challenge was feminism. Our werewolf society has progressed somewhat backwards from human society. Our contemporary female wolves had very little power in their paranormal lives but relative freedom in their human ones.

When writing A SAFE HARBOR, we had to reverse our thinking, and try to think about how women who had different roles in human society would be changed by the power they'd had in their paranormal lives--and how difficult it would be to have that power taken away.

How have you handled adding paranormal elements into this era of history?

As with any era, the most important thing for us is to make sure that the paranormal aspects work with the world around them. In this instance, we already had a world. We knew how the bits and pieces fit together. Our challenge was considering how our cultures had progressed through the years.

What other historicals eras (if any) have you used for settings?

In March 2011 we'll be seeing our first alternate Wild West paranormal romance hit the virtual shelves. It's a little bit steampunk, a lot paranormal and a wild campy ride. It's been fun to write something that gets to be a little more out there, since A SAFE HARBOR and UNDERTOW are relatively serious books set in a dark world. (As can be expected...the Great Depression is not the most cheerful time period!)

Who is Moira Rogers?

Our biography asks the important question: How do you make a Moira Rogers? Take a former forensic science and nursing student obsessed with paranormal romance and add a computer programmer with a passion for gritty urban fantasy. Toss in a dash of whimsy and a lot of caffeine, and enjoy with a side of chocolate by the light of the full moon.

By day, Bree and Donna are mild-mannered ladies who reside in the Deep South. At night, when their husbands and children are asleep, they combine forces to unleash the product of their fevered imaginations upon the page. (Disclaimer: crime fighting abilities may appear only in the aforementioned fevered imaginations.)

What's up next for you?

In October we'll see the publication of our second historical novella, UNDERTOW, as well as a short story in the Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2. After that we'll be returning to contemporary times and the Deep South for our third Southern Arcana novel. Then a trip to the gunslinging wild west in March!

In other words...we keep busy.

***

Would you like to try out this tasty unusual treat? Just leave a comment or question for our dynamic writing duo. Maybe: What are your thoughts about a romance set in the Great Depression? What about mixing paranormal elements with historical settings? I'll draw one winner at random next week, who will win a digital copy of A SAFE HARBOR. Void where prohibited. Best of luck!

Weekly Announcements - 17 July 2010

Congratulations to Margaret Mallory, whose KNIGHT OF PLEASURE is a finalist for the prestigious Maggie Award, hosted by the George RWA chapter. Best of luck!

***

Michelle Styles is happy to announce the sale of a Harlequin Historical Undone short story set in ancient Rome. It features Piso, a secondary character from SOLD & SEDUCED and mentions Valens, the hero of THE GLADIATOR'S HONOUR, back when he was just starting out. No release date yet, but we'll be sure to keep you posted. Congratulations, Michelle!

***

Join us Sunday when Samhain author Moira Rogers will be here to chat about A SAFE HARBOR, a paranormal romance set in the Great Depression. She'll be giving away a digital copy to one lucky commenter! Hope you join us then.

***

We'll also draw the winners of Michelle Willingham's trio of prizes, which are in celebration of her latest Harlequin Historical Undone, "INNOCENT IN THE HAREM." You still have time to leave a comment or question for your chance to win.

***

Stay with us through the coming weeks when we'll be featuring the best unusual historical authors! Carla Capshaw, Hope Tarr, Frances Hunter, and Donna Russo Morin will be our guests. Join us!

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Remember, you don't have to be an Unusual Historicals contributor to submit good news to the weekend announcements. If it has to do with unusual historicals, we'd love to shout it out to the world! Send announcements to Carrie. See you next week...

Excerpt Thursday: Moira Rogers

This week on Excerpt Thursday we're featuring Samhain author Moira Rogers as she celebrates the release of A SAFE HARBOR, a paranormal set during the Great Depression. Join us Sunday when Moira will be here to talk about this fab blend of paranormal elements and an unusual era. Here's the blurb:

During the bite of the Great Depression, sole female dominant Joan Fuller struggles against the rise of cruelty among her alpha counterparts. The men tolerate her interference--until she breaks from the pack and allies with a witch and a vampire. Now the Boston alpha intends to bring them all forcibly back into the fold--and teach her a lesson she may not survive.

Seamus Whelan and his werewolf bootleggers intend to retire from smuggling and savor their fortune, but first they must do a favor for an old friend: escort some female wolves to safety. An easy job, if their leader wasn't a prim ex-debutante with enough power to challenge Seamus himself. Chance makes them allies; powerful need makes them lovers.

Together, they have the opportunity to build a sanctuary for their kind, but first they must free themselves from Joan's past, and the powerful man who would see her destroyed.

***

There was no time for a proper bath, though the polished tub stood empty with its shiny new pipes gleaming and a freshly washed stack of towels beside it. For some of the girls, the ability to twist a knob and fill the tub with hot water had been a luxury more magical than the fact that they changed to wolves with every full moon.

Those were mostly Edwin's girls. Girls so poor they'd never known anything but heating pot after pot of water to fill a tub a bit at a time, if they were even that lucky. She had to credit the man with some cunning--he'd been very sure to pick girls unlikely to be missed. Orphans and farmers' daughters and maids who would be assumed to have abandoned their drudgery in favor of running off with a man. Oh yes, Edwin chose well.

Most of the time.

Joan sighed and did her best to ignore the tub as she stripped the torn, bloodstained dress from her body quickly but carefully. Even if there had been time to immerse herself in hot, clean water, she couldn't have. Simone had just changed the bandage wrapped around the wound on her calf, and it still hadn't healed. Instead Joan had stitches holding her skin together while sluggish power stirred inside her.

Not enough. Not nearly enough, and fear clawed inside her as she tried not to imagine what it could mean. The bond with Adam would take what it needed to keep their people strong, but it had never drawn so much from her before, never felt like a noose around her neck. She was the most powerful wolf. Her magic fed the pack, fed everyone.

Including the wolves left to Edwin's surely untender mercies.

Every heartbeat increased her weariness, until exhaustion weighed so heavy that even simple chores seemed insurmountable obstacles. She fumbled with the knob for the hot water, then hesitated. Their supply wasn't endless, and it might be needed for more important things before the day was done. Gritting her teeth, she twisted on the cold water instead.

Autumn had come early to Massachusetts, and washing the blood from her hair wasn't as easy as she'd hoped. It had dried into a tacky, sticky mess, tangling around her fingers until she wanted to scream with frustration.

By the time the water ran clear, she was shivering in just her undergarments. She tucked one of the thick towels around her body and used another to rub at her hair, bracing herself for the fact she still had to wash her face, arms and neck in the icy water.

"You need some help."

Joan barely bit down in time to hold back a startled noise as she spun and found herself looking into gentle blue eyes. It was the new man, the one who'd come to speak to Adam's friend. Nothing should have made her so oblivious that she disregarded the sound of footsteps in the hallway, which meant she had left weary behind and careened into recklessly exhausted.

But not so exhausted as to tolerate a man staring at her with such blatant appraisal. She gripped the towel and tried to summon her fiercest glare as she pretended his words had been a question instead of an arrogant, presumptuous statement. "I'm fine. Please close the door behind you."

"We're going to be working together." He stepped into the bathroom and, indeed, shut the door behind him. "That means we need to talk."

She'd seen women sporting dresses that bared more skin than her towel, but it didn't make her feel less naked. The press of his power didn't help--he was clearly a strong wolf, one full of rough, edgy dominance that stirred the wolf inside her with unrestrained curiosity.

She had to get rid of him. "I'll be out in a few minutes. If you or the men you brought need anything, you can ask Simone. She's in the kitchen."

"We had a lovely conversation." He smiled suddenly, not a grin or a smirk, and it transformed his face from hard to boyishly handsome. "She told me to come talk to you."

Of course she had. Humans might judge authority by gender or age or social standing or money, but wolves only cared for power. It didn't matter that she was twenty-four and female, that she'd lost her inheritance and any hope of being accepted or respected by polite society. She had raw power, so she was in charge.

The heaviness of her responsibility settled over her. Soon she'd slide to the floor under the weight of it, crushed beyond repair.

Good Times: Royal Marriage

By Margaret Mallory

On June 2, 1420, Henry V of England and Catherine de Valois, daughter of Charles VI of France, were wed. Although Henry was said to be enamored with the French princess upon first sight, he waited until his military victories in France ensured that his political and dowry demands would be met. Henry was the sort who always put duty first--something Catherine would have to get used to during their short marriage.

You might expect that the joining of two royal families would be followed by days of feasting. Henry did stay the night to consummate the marriage. The next day, however, the busy king left his bride with her horrid mother and set off to take yet another city. And then another. And, alas, another. Catherine must have felt as if she'd married a soldier on a weekend pass--and a soldier she barely knew, at that.

Finally, enough cities had surrendered that Henry was ready to make his grand entry into Paris and celebrate.

I don't have a picture of Henry V and Princess Catherine entering Paris, but this painting is of Catherine's mother entering Paris thirty years earlier. I believe the castle is the Louvre.

And celebrate they did. Henry and his bride entered Paris with great fanfare--and accompanied by the bride's frequently-insane father, who had named Henry as his heir. The crowds in Paris gave them an enthusiastic welcome, in hope that the English king would bring peace.

For nearly four weeks, the royal couple celebrated Christmas, their marriage, and the joy of Henry's conquests in grand style at the Louvre Palace. Then it was time to move the celebration to England.

Henry and Catherine left Paris on Dec 27 and spent Epiphany (January 6) at Rouen--a business stop for Henry. At the end of January, they crossed the channel to Dover, where the conquering hero and his bride were greeted with wild rejoicing. On February 21, 1421, they entered London to yet more wild rejoicing. Catherine was crowned Queen of England in a splendid ceremony two days later.

Even in the midst of celebration, matters of state were foremost on Henry's mind. The war in France was expensive. Now that there was peace in England--thanks to Henry's efforts--Parliament was squawking about the cost. The crown already owed a fortune to the king's uncle, Bishop Beaufort, for the war effort.

So, why not use this joyous occasion for fundraising? Henry decided to take a tour of the kingdom to introduce his new queen--and raise money for the war. They set out "on progress," visiting St. Albans, Bristol, Shrewsbury, York, Lincoln, Norwich and King's Lynn. The king's English subjects were thrilled with their new queen, and the royals drew crowds everywhere they went. Men with money pledged funds for the war effort.

Adding to their joy, Catherine was with child.

The good times rolled--and funds were raised--until the King received news from France of a disastrous battle. His brother, the Duke of Clarence, who was in charge of Henry's forces in France, had been killed. The King prepared to return to France.

With his heir conceived, his bride crowned, and funds raised, it was time to end the celebrations and consolidate his control over France.

By my estimation, the couple had less than six months of good times together, from December, when they entered Paris, until June, when Henry returned to France for his last campaign. The following summer, Catherine left their baby, Henry's heir, in England when she went to France to join her ill husband. Henry died August 31, 1422 near Paris.

*All images courtesy of Wikipedia

Good Times: The USO

By Carrie Lofty

Contrary to popular opinion, the USO (United Service Organization) wasn't entirely about WWII-era dances and popular entertainment. Formed in 1941, it was established as a private non-profit organization devoted to providing morale-building services of all kinds to members of the armed forces. This included religious needs, games and recreation, temporary lodging, postage services, the distribution of books and magazines, and food stations in cities, ports and railway stations. Particularly famous were USO doughnuts. If USO volunteers were handing out food, doughnuts were sure to be involved!

The USO was chartered by Congress to bring a variety of hitherto separate units under one united banner, but it was and remains technically independent of the US government. I say "technically" because the USO worked very closely in conjunction with the War Department, and continues to coordinate its efforts today with the Department of Defense and Homeland Security. No matter how nominally independent, the organizers of USO events and services were never going to put their people in harm's way or compromise military operations.

A USO canteen dance in 1943
USO dances became a staple of life of wartime life. Girls considered to be of the best character were chosen to host and participate in these canteen dances, both at home and in foreign nations such as Britain. Morale was buoyed by the girls' clean-washed hair, pretty smiles, and patient conversations. Because of how near this skirted toward hints of offering their bodies of comfort--eep! almost prostitution!--the USO was especially strict to enforce their chosen boundaries of propriety.

Girls were trained in how to talk with servicemen, how to make them feel included, and how to firmly tell them "no" at the end of the night. Volunteers were discouraged from dancing too frequently with the same man, and they were forbidden from leaving the premises with servicemen. Even the exchange of phone numbers so that eager young people could arrange an after-work rendezvous was prohibited. (Not to say some folks didn't get around the restrictions!)

Bob Hope performing on a USO tour
Camp Shows also became widely recognized aspects of USO morale. Entertainers from all walks--from Bob Hope and other tremendous stars, to independent troupes of acrobats, singers, poets, classical musicians, and ballerinas--all made the rounds. Homefront shows were organized to keep restless men in training camps from becoming too bored and destructive to local towns. "Foxhole Circuit" tours of the the European and Pacific Theaters soon followed, from Alaska to Egypt to New Guinea. These intrepid performers traveled at their own risk, but they also performed under the USO's very strict watch. Anyone who deviated from an approved show schedule and script could be sent home instantly, contract canceled.

Contrary to what you might expect of entertainment aimed at hundreds of hard-up, lonely soldiers, USO performers were expressly forbidden from making their shows too vulgar or sexual. In fact, the longer a man had been in the field--such as Marines who had not been home for two years or more--the more eager he was for wholesome entertainment. They had seen enough vulgarity and had experienced far too much degradation and shame to want that reflected in their entertainment. Pretty girls in good Sunday dresses who sang songs of home were the most appreciated entertainers--the sorts of girls they were fighting for, the sort of girls waiting for them to return.

The Andrews Sisters on tour for the USO