Welcoming Roberta Kagan and her book - The Smallest Crack - to my blog

 Today I'm welcoming author Roberta Kagan and her book - The Smallest Crack - to my blog as part of the blog tour hosted by The Coffee Pot Book Club (founded by Mary Anne Yarde).

I'm delighted to be able to share an excerpt with you which I will do after I've introduced the book. 

The Smallest Crack by Roberta Kagan

1933 Berlin, Germany.

The son of a rebbe, Eli Kaetzel, and his beautiful but timid wife, Rebecca, find themselves in danger as Hitler rises to power. Eli knows that their only chance for survival may lie in the hands of Gretchen, a spirited Aryan girl. However, the forbidden and dangerous friendship between Eli and Gretchen has been a secret until now. Because, for Eli, if it is discovered that he has been keeping company with a woman other than his wife it will bring shame to him and his family. For Gretchen her friendship with a Jew is forbidden by law and could cost her, her life.

You can purchase a copy of the book via the following link -

Amazon: https://books2read.com/u/4jWMDZ

Publication date: July 1, 2019 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Publisher: Roberta Kagan

Print Length: 321 pages

Now for the excerpt -

 Hilde found it easy to steal from Jews. She’d been caught once when she took the lipstick from a Jewish shop. The owner was furious, but when Hilde threatened to tell the German police that he had molested her, he let her go without reporting the theft. The best part was that she still kept the tube of lipstick.

The shopkeeper was not watching Hilde intently, making it easy for her to put two dresses on underneath the dress she was wearing. She hung the others back on the hangers and handed them to the shopkeeper.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t find anything,” Hilde said. These Jews have been stealing from us good Germans for a very long time. So what if I get a little of it back? Hilde thought.

“Well, good luck to you. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” the shopkeeper said as she began to straighten the dresses on the hangers.
Hilde left the store and ran home. She carefully removed the price tags and hung the stolen goods on hangers. She marveled at her conquest. One dress was pale pink, and the other was pale yellow. Either one would be perfect for a spring dance. They fit Hilde, so she knew both dresses would be too big for Gretchen. Since Hilde liked both frocks equally, she decided she would let Gretchen choose first then she’d wear the other one. Once Gretchen chose her favorite, Hilde would help her add a belt at the waist to make it fit.

Sitting on her bed with her back against the wall, Hilde smiled. She was excited about the dance. Perhaps, by some miracle, with her new dress and her red lipstick, she would be able to attract Hann’s attention. She could hardly wait until the dance. It was two weeks away, and she was counting the days.

Roberta Kagan

I am an USA Today Best Selling Author of Historical Jewish Fiction mainly set during World War 2. My father was Romany and my mother was Jewish, When I was very young I learned about the Holocaust. I couldn't understand how something like this could happen. So, I began to research and learn more. I met with survivors. I even met with children and grandchildren of SS officers. But I still had no answers. I cannot say that I have all of the answers to all of my questions even now. But what I do know is that soon all of the survivors will be gone. Their message must be remembered, the sacrifices that they made must not be forgotten. And so I humbly and with the utmost humility I try to tell their stories. It is painful, but I must convey the darkness and horror of the time, However, I also want the world to know and celebrate the unsung heroes. Because there were many ordinary people who acted in heroic ways. I realize that writing these books is a great responsibility. I pray every day that I am able to do this correctly. I am trying to reach out and touch many people, not with the message of the horrors but with the promise of hope. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for considering my work. It is an honor that I never take lightly.

You can connect with Roberta Kagan via th following links -

Website: http://www.robertakagan.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RobertaKagan

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/robertakaganauthor/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/roberta.kagan.9

Facebook, author page: https://www.facebook.com/Rkagan4

Roberta Kagan Book Club: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1494285400798292

I hope you will check out Roberta Kagan's work.

Till the next time.

Take care Zoe

 

 

 

Welcoming M J Porter and her book - The Last King: England: The First Viking Age (The Ninth Century Book 1) - to my blog

 Today I'm welcoming author M J Porter and her new book - The Last King: England: The First Viking Age (The Ninth Century Book 1) - to my blog as part of the blog tour hosted by The Coffee Pot Book Club (founded by Mary Anne Yarde).

 

 I'm delighted to be able to share an excerpt with you which I will do after I've introduced the book. 

The Last King: England: The First Viking Age (The Ninth Century Book 1)

By M J Porter

 They sent three hundred warriors to kill one man. It wasn’t enough.

Mercia lies broken but not beaten, her alliance with Wessex in tatters.

Coelwulf, a fierce and bloody warrior, hears whispers that Mercia has been betrayed from his home in the west. He fears no man, especially not the Vikings sent to hunt him down.

To discover the truth of the rumours he hears, Coelwulf must travel to the heart of Mercia, and what he finds there will determine the fate of Mercia, as well as his own.

Publication date: 23rd April 2020

Publisher: Indie

You can purchase your copy via the following links -

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B085QN74WW

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Last-King-England-Viking-Century-ebook/dp/B085QN74WW

 Now for the excerpt -

AD874

I taste it on my lips, and over the salt of my sweat.

And I scowl. It’s not a flavour I wish to get used to. All the same, I know what it is without a second thought.

My seax glistens slickly in the dull light, the gleaming claret reminding me more of an exotic wine from the south than the lifeblood it truly is. The double headed-eagle impeccably depicted on the handle seems to wink at me, as the eyes fill with the ruby mixture.

Not that I focus on it for more than the time it takes me to blink.

This horde feels as though it’ll never stop, and I’m determined to end the lives of as many of them as possible. Such slaughter doesn’t bring me joy, but this is my skill. I wield it because I must.

My weapon, so sharp it cuts through byrnies as though they’re no more than spider webs, is busy today.

They come against my force, as small as it is, and they mean to annihilate us. But we will not go without making our sacrifices to their god of war.

My seax sweeps effortlessly along the abruptly exposed throat of my enemy, the realisation of what’s befallen him only reaching his eyes as he falls to the ground. I step over him, already sighting my next enemy.

This one swirls an axe in his left hand, as I reveal my bloodied teeth. His entire body recoils, almost a backward step. Before he can consider his move, I’ve sliced through his belly, the gut threatening to spill at my feet. I dismiss him and move onto the next man.

The ground beneath my feet squelches with each step, slick, more like a flooded river than the solid ground it should be.

It’s awash with the dead and wounded, the long shield wall that tried to defeat us long since disintegrated to small spots of desperate one to one fighting. This is my favourite part of any battle.

I turn, noting the angle of the sun, the brush of the breeze against my slick body, breathing deeply through my nose. This is not my first battle. Far from it.

I hear the cries of those boys who thought themselves men, and equally of those men who’ve found they are but boys when their lives are threatened.

I scorn them. They’re not worthy of my attention.

Quickly, I reach for my weapons belt, keen to know that all is where it should be. My hand brushes over the sharpened edges and deadly blades that make a home there. For now.

Satisfied, I pick my next target, a tight knot of men fighting not five steps away, and move forward.

I don’t hurry. Not this time. Neither, as I’ve seen others do, do I check the weight of my weapon, or test the strength of my arm as I consider my next move. Instinctively I know that all is well.

They’ll not fail me. They haven’t before.

The sun is high above my head, few clouds to be seen, other than high up, more wisps than anything substantial.

This battle has been long. It began with the streak of fire across the eastern sky, and I don’t foresee it ending other than when that same stripe sinks below the western horizon.

Those who met their death in the first wave of the assault will be cold and stiff by then, the heat of the sun of no help to them.

Those yet shivering with their mortal injuries will watch for the flashes of disappearing gold with fear. They’ll not see it rise again.

I simply mark it with detachment. There are more warriors to kill.

There are always more enemies to kill.

My seax arm sweeps to the right. I would sooner not kill a man who doesn’t know I’m there, but he should be paying more attention.

The wound along the back of his neck opens up with unsurprising ease, and I notice how my sworn-man takes advantage of the action to slice across the throat.

The enemy wobbles, his head bobbing. I fear it will topple to the floor before he does, and so I step around him.

Icel grins at me, his black beard dripping with the blood of his foe, as I grunt an acknowledgement, and nothing more.

Icel pivots to face the next enemy, as I stride beyond him. Coldly I count how many face us, how many are my warriors, almost pleased to see that the numbers, with my presence, are now equal.

That’s not how we started this battle.

And it’s not how I plan on ending it either.

I’ll ensure we roundly defeat our enemy, and when they’re dead, I’ll plan my next move.

I focus my thoughts, sight my target, and rush quickly toward them. He barely has time to raise his seax before I slice across his body. Blood spurts, as the links of his metal coat burst open under the blow from my weapon.

Another step, a slash of the seax from left to right, and blood is falling like rain.

Sometimes, I think the enemy make it too easy for me. I’m fast and relentless, and always have been. But, I’m cautious against my arrogance. My men tell me that my strength is prodigious. For one always used to being so strong, it’s impossible to know what it must feel like not to be.

My enemy staggers, perhaps not appreciating the extent of the injury. I take a cold moment of pity and allow him to fall onto the edge of my seax.

His final gasp of air is filled with fluid, as I reverse my hold, letting him slide to the floor.

I step gingerly over the rapidly growing pool of blood, grimacing at the stench of opened bowels and salty iron, at the result of my particular talents. Each kill is more than a number. But only just.

I feel as though I sweep through the enemy. They are warriors of all shapes and sizes, ages and skill levels. They all fall beneath my weapons, as though I fell defenceless saplings. This butchery gives me pleasure, and a burst of adrenaline only found in battle.

Only when I glance up, finding no enemy before me, do I stand upright, bring my legs together, menace with my seax, and glance at the field of slaughter.

I lead twenty men. The enemy must have numbered at least double that. Of those who remain, three are stood, angled to protect the back of each other, while three of my warriors threaten them. Another five wait to take the place of any who might fall. I think they’ll wait forever. My sworn warriors know how to make a kill, but some of them will insist on enjoying it first.

To the far right, I see where one lone figure attempts to escape into the muddy field ditch, alive for now, but not for much longer.

Other than those four opponents, all others are dead, or fled, or pretending to be dead.

I sigh heavily, abruptly aware of the ache in my shoulders, and the dryness of my mouth.

I could drink a barrel of cold water. But it’s not yet time to declare this battle won.

“How many?” I call, as though to no one, but Edmund answers, as quickly as always, his voice rich with the joy of battle.

“Two who will die, three with injuries that should recover, and Pybba, who lost his hand. The damn fool.”

I turn to meet the eyes of Edmund. He grins at me, as cocky as ever when the battle seems to be won. It’s not the same when a battle starts. In fact, when a battle commences, I almost expect him to run from the attack, or, if he stays, to soil himself, there and then.

His courage is slow to arrive and takes days to dissipate. But he fights with a tenacity I admire, and I’d never wish to go into battle without him.

“Leave one alive,” I turn and bellow, reminding my warriors that we must employ the tactics of the Raiders, even if I don’t want to. One must always live to tell of what befell their friends and comrades on the field of slaughter.

“Too late,” Edmund’s voice is soaring with laughter, as he too watches the remnants of the three Raiders losing their fight to live. “They always get bloody carried away,” he complains, but amusement thrums through the words rather than anger.

“Then bring me the one over there, heading toward the field ditch. We’ll stitch him up and send him on his way.” Once the killing begins, it’s almost impossible to stop until everyone on the battlefield lies unmoving.

M J Porter

 

I'm an author of fantasy (viking age/dragon themed) and historical fiction (Early English, Vikings and the British Isles as a whole before the Norman Conquest), born in the old Mercian kingdom at some point since AD1066. I write A LOT. You've been warned!

You can connect with M J Porter via the following links -

Author Website: https://www.mjporterauthor.com/

Author Blog: https://earlofmercia.wordpress.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/coloursofunison

Hope you will check out M J Porter's work.

Till the next time.

Take care Zoe

Welcoming Benjamin J Gohs and his book - A Thin Porridge - to my blog

Today I am welcoming author Benjamin J Gohs and his new book - A Thin Porridge - to my blog as part of the blog tour hosted by The Coffee Pot Book Club (founded by Mary Anne Yarde).

I'm delighted to be able to share an excerpt with you all which I will do after I've introduced the book.

A Thin Porridge

By Benjamin J Gohs

When 19-year-old Abeona Browne's renowned abolitionist father Jon Browne dies in summer of 1860, devastating family secrets are revealed, and her life of privilege and naiveté in Southern Michigan becomes a frantic transatlantic search for answers—and someone she didn't even know existed.

Still in mourning, Abeona sneaks aboard the ship carrying her father’s attorney Terrence Swifte and his assistant Djimon—a young man with his own secrets—on a quest to Africa to fulfil a dying wish.

Along the journey, Abeona learns of her father’s tragic and terrible past through a collection of letters intended for someone he lost long ago.

Passage to the Dark Continent is fraught with wild beasts, raging storms, illness, and the bounty hunters who know Jon Browne’s diaries are filled with damning secrets which threaten the very anti-slavery movement he helped to build.

Can Abeona overcome antebellum attitudes and triumph over her own fears to right the wrongs in her famous family’s sordid past?

So named for an African proverb, A Thin Porridge is a Homeric tale of second chances, forgiveness, and adventure that whisks readers from the filth of tweendecks, to the treachery of Cameroons Town, across the beauty of Table Bay, and deep into the heart of the fynbos—where Boer miners continue the outlawed scourge of slavery.

You can purchase this book from any of the following links -

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Thin-Porridge-Benjamin-Gohs-ebook/dp/B085SZXG4F

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Thin-Porridge-Benjamin-Gohs-ebook/dp/B085SZXG4F

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Thin-Porridge-Benjamin-Gohs-ebook/dp/B085SZXG4F

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/Thin-Porridge-Benjamin-Gohs-ebook/dp/B085SZXG4F

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-thin-porridge-benjamin-gohs/1136827075?ean=9798618447249

Publiction date: June 15th 2020

Now for the excerpt -

Excerpt 1 from chapter “A Most Dubious Grimmis”

Grimmis brushed his lapel daintily. “The captain has provided us with sustenance, fine spirits and interesting company. Least I can do is humor with a story.”

“That's more like it!” Captain Stuart slapped the table and roared with approval.

“My real name, you might imagine, isn't Dubious Grimmis. Though, you might say, my appearance had a significant impact on my moniker. I was never given a name, not by my mother. I am the result of a failed Irish Catholic, who found her demise in the arms of a failed termination of pregnancy.”

Mrs. Astor snicked her tongue sympathetically.

“As she was dead prior to my arrival, the woman who carried me to some weeks before term was unable to label me as is customary. The butcher, meaning to run me through, glanced my brow and noggin but evidently pierced some critical portion of my dear mother's undercarriage. I say 'butcher' with a tongue in cheek as I was nearly murdered in the womb and delivered in the basement of a meat shop. It was the winter of 1830, in the fair city of Detroit, if the policeman who found me is to be believed.”

Grimmis motioned for more drink. The sommelier poured.

“I was given a name as a lad by some clerk I've never met. But I don't remember ever being called by it. When one looks as I do, people tend to avoid you as much as is possible. And when they address you, it is generally in the same manner as you've seen here tonight. Mumbles, groans, and words I'll not repeat.

“As for the rest of my appearance, I was born prematurely. Tiny. But, as runts sometimes do, I grew tall and stout. Though that has played havoc on my joints. The paleness of my skin, the doctors say, is also due to the early birth. But what do doctors know?”

There were a few polite chuckles and Mrs. Astor was heard to whisper “poor dear.”

“My name.” Dubious Grimmis drank. “Now that's a much more interesting story.”

The group was rapt. All had stopped eating. Only the occasional drink was drunk.

“Tormented and ignored by my fellows. Had but one friend, though not for lack of trying. When I was about nine, a new nurse came to the orphanage. Pretty young thing. Same age as Ms. Browne, I might venture. Her eyes made me safe and happy. Just to hear her voice was a delight. She saw how I was treated. Took special effort to see me cared for. We walked. She read to me. Spoke of her own childhood. Those next few years were unlike any I had endured. Inseparable. The mother I never had.”

Even Captain Stuart seemed genuinely affected by Grimmis’ tale.

“Well, eventually, mummy found herself a gentleman. A doctor who'd been treating us in quarterly visits for a couple seasons. Rather abrupt our walks stopped, stories too. All but a passing wave outside or smile from her in the hall. I began to resent her … and hate him.” Grimmis paused his story to give the crowd another good looking over. No one was laughing now. “I followed her one night.”

Mrs. Astor and her daughters all whispered, “oh my.”

“Awakened to lamplight under the door. A shadow dashed by. I peeked out in time to see her heading downstairs. I went after but halted in the main lobby, bedazzled by blinding moonlight that spilt through the upper windows. I remember it so vividly. I went to the curtain, expecting to see them riding off or taking a stroll. But I heard noises from the basement. I crept to the back corner from which dim light flickered. And there they were.”

The captain roared again with delight.

Mrs. Astor groused at her daughters to never-mind such prurience.

“Well, what did you do with such an eyeful, old man?” Captain Stuart gulped his drink.

Grimmis spoke now with fiendish delight. “I took an ax off the wall and sunk it into the good doctor's back.”

The group burst into exclamations of horror and disbelief.

“Wasn't strong enough to kill him but they sent me to a boys prison in the woods somewhere. There was this particular guard who told me: 'Boy, you have the most dubious grimace.' It encapsulated my short lifetime of hardship and wrongdoing in a rather superb fashion. It was a name unlike any other, and it was mine. Took it for my own in my eighteenth year.”

“But it's not even a real name,” said Mrs. Astor with sad irony.

Everyone laughed, even Abeona.

Benjamin J. Gohs

Benjamin J. Gohs is a longtime award-winning news editor whose investigative journalism has included stories of murder, sex-crime, historical discovery, corruption, and clerical misconduct.

Benjamin now divides his time between writing literary thrillers and managing the community newspaper he co-founded in 2009.

You can contact Benjamin J Gohs via the following -

Website: https://bengohs.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/bengohs

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20132227.Benjamin_J_Gohs

I hope you all wlcomed having a peek at this book and that you will have a look at Benjamin's work.That's it for now. Till the next time.

Take care Zoe.

Welcoming Kindred Spirits: Ephemera to my blog.

Today I am taking part in the blog tour hosted by The Coffee Pot Book Club (founded by Mary Anne Yarde) featuring Jennifer C Wilson's new book - Kindred Spirits: Ephemera.

Firstly I am going to introduce the book then I'll share my thoughts with you and then introduce the author.

Kindred Spirits: Ephemera

By Jennifer C Wilson

The afterlife is alive with possibility…

In this collection of stories, we follow kings and queens as they make important (and history-defying) visits, watch a football game featuring the foulest of fouls, and meet a host of new spirits-in-residence across the British Isles and beyond. 

Be transported to ancient ruins, a world-famous cemetery, and a new cathedral, and catch up with old friends – and enemies. 

Because when the dead outnumber the living and start to travel, the adventures really do begin.

Kindred Spirits: Ephemera is a charming collection of stories about your favourite ghosts!

Included short- stories are

Kindred Spirits: St Paul’s Cathedral

Kindred Spirits: Jailbreak

Kindred Spirits: Carlisle Castle 

Kindred Spirits: The Sisterhood of Hampton Court Palace 

Kindred Spirits: Leicester – Return of the King 

Kindred Spirits: The Jewel of the Wall 

Kindred Spirits: Eurostar 

Kindred Spirits: Père Lachaise

Kindred Spirits: York, Revisited

Publication date: 4th June 2020

Publisher: Darkstroke Books

You can purchase this book from the following links -

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Kindred-Spirits-Ephemera-Jennifer-Wilson-ebook/dp/B086ZVW7JQ

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Kindred-Spirits-Ephemera-Jennifer-Wilson-ebook/dp/B086ZVW7JQ

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Kindred-Spirits-Ephemera-Jennifer-Wilson-ebook/dp/B086ZVW7JQ

My Thoughts

With a cup of coffee in hand, I sat down and opened this book unsure what I was going to find. I'm delighted to say – Kindred Spirits: Ephemera - hooked me and kept me turning those pages until I had read every page in one sitting. As a historical fiction fan, I was intrigued to see how Jennifer C Wilson would weave such a cast of characters and I'm happy to say this book did not disappoint.

I don't want to give too much away, dear reader, but I cannot write this without mentioning my joy at reading the scenes when King Henry VIII's six wives met for the first time. Of course, there was friction and intrigue as each met her successor.

Every famous setting from St Paul's Cathedral to Windsor Castle used in this book brought to life the buildings and its residents who all have their own stories to tell. Jennifer C Wilson's approach amused and delighted me. However, you don't need knowledge of history to enjoy this book. From the cast of characters list at the start to the setting of the scenes, you soon become immersed in the afterlife unfolding as you read. I would happily recommend this book to anyone.

I was given a copy of this book by the author for review consideration.

Jennifer C Wilson

Jennifer C. Wilson stalks dead people (usually monarchs, mostly Mary Queen of Scots and Richard III). Inspired by childhood visits to as many castles and historical sites her parents could find, and losing herself in their stories (not to mention quote often the castles themselves!), at least now her daydreams make it onto the page.

After returning to the north-east of England for work, she joined a creative writing class, and has been filling notebooks ever since. Jennifer won North Tyneside Libraries’ Story Tyne short story competition in 2014, and in 2015, her debut novel, Kindred Spirits: Tower of London was published by Crooked Cat Books. The full series was re-released by Darkstroke in January 2020.

Jennifer is a founder and host of the award-winning North Tyneside Writers’ Circle, and has been running writing workshops in North Tyneside since 2015. She also publishes historical fiction novels with Ocelot Press. She lives in Whitley Bay, and is very proud of her two-inch view of the North Sea.

You can contact Jennifer via the following platforms -

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/inkjunkie1984

Blog: https://jennifercwilsonwriter.wordpress.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jennifercwilsonwriter/

Would love you to check out Jennifer's work.

Till the next time. Take care Zoe

WOYWW 572 - 11 years

WOYWW opened up a whole new world for me. And along the way I made lots of friends online. Many  of those online friends became friends in real life as we met at a number of the yearly crops over the years.

All of this was possible thanks to Julia over at The Stamping Ground

and here we are celebrating 11 years of desk sharing and friendship.

So here's my desk -

So there's my new mould to make resin letters and a practice Z I tried last night. That folder started out as a box for my new peacock solar wall art I had for my birthday. In true crafter style I knew it would make great sized folder to fit 12 x 12 pages. It's my UFO in theory - you see I've attempted this idea so many times with different boxes. But this is the first that I've got to work properly. I inserted the rings last night. Now to decorate it!

My basket of journals and planners. A tin of chalk paint ready for an upcycle project and in front of the basket is my April colouring class from Kit and Clowder. I've started it but the glorious weather has distracted me to go outside rather than stay in and colour!

I did reorganise my pens the other evening - changing the colour waves to run vertically instead of horizontally as I've had them for years.

I look forward to visiting you and saying hello over the next few days. Here's to many more happy desk sharing years ahead.

Take care Zoe

Welcoming The Road To Liberation - Trials and Triumphs of WWII to my blog.

Today I am taking part in the blog tour hosted by The Coffee Pot Book Club (founded by Mary Anne Yarde) featuring the works of Marion Kummerow, Marina Osipova, Rachel Wesson, JJ Toner, Ellie Midwood, and Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger and their new book - The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII.

I'm going to spotlight this fantastic collection of stories and introduce the authors.

The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII

Riveting stories dedicated to celebrating the end of WWII.

From USA Today, international bestselling and award-winning authors comes a collection filled with courage, betrayal, hardships and, ultimately, victory over some of the most oppressive rulers the world has ever encountered.

By 1944, the Axis powers are fiercely holding on to their quickly shrinking territories.

The stakes are high—on both sides:

Liberators and oppressors face off in the final battles between good and evil. Only personal bravery and self-sacrifice will tip the scales when the world needs it most.

Read about a small child finding unexpected friends amidst the cruelty of the concentration camps, an Auschwitz survivor working to capture a senior member of the SS, the revolt of a domestic servant hunted by the enemy, a young Jewish girl in a desperate plan to escape the Gestapo, the chaos that confused underground resistance fighters in the Soviet Union, and the difficult lives of a British family made up of displaced children..

2020 marks 75 years since the world celebrated the end of WWII. These books will transport you across countries and continents during the final days, revealing the high price of freedom—and why it is still so necessary to “never forget”.

Stolen Childhood by Marion Kummerow

The Aftermath by Ellie Midwood

When's Mummy coming? by Rachel Wesson

Too Many Wolves in the Local Woods by Marina Osipova

Liberation Berlin by JJ Toner

Magda’s Mark by Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger

Publication date: May 5^th 2020

You can order this book from the following -

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Road-Liberation-Trials-Triumphs-WWII-ebook/dp/B083SH7VJQ

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Road-Liberation-Trials-Triumphs-WWII-ebook/dp/B083SH7VJQ

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Road-Liberation-Trials-Triumphs-WWII-ebook/dp/B083SH7VJQ

Now let's meet the authors -

Marion Kummerow

Marion Kummerow was born and raised in Germany, before she set out to "discover the world" and lived in various countries. In 1999 she returned to Germany and settled down in Munich where she's now living with her family.

After dipping her toes with non-fiction books, she finally tackled the project dear to her heart. UNRELENTING is the story about her grandparents, who belonged to the German resistance and fought against the Nazi regime. It's a book about resilience, love and the courage to stand up and do the right thing.

Marina Osipova

Marina Osipova was born in East Germany into a military family and grew up in Russia where she graduated from the Moscow State Institute of History and Archives. She also has a diploma as a German language translator from the Moscow State Institute of Foreign Languages. In Russia, she worked first in a scientific-technical institute as a translator then in a Government Ministry in the office of international relations, later for some Austrian firms. For seventeen years, she lived in the United States where she worked in a law firm. Eventually, she found her home in Austria. She is an award-winning author and a member of the Historical Novel Society.

Rachel Wesson

Rachel Wesson is Irish born and bred. Drawn to reading from an early age, she started writing for publication a few years back. When she is not writing, Rachel likes to spend her time reading and playing with her three kids. Living in Dublin there are plenty of things to do, although the cowboys and Indians of her books rarely make an appearance. To chat with Rachel connect with her on Facebook - authorrachelwesson. To check out her newest releases sign up to her mailing list.

  

JJ Toner

JJ Toner My background is in Mathematics and computing, but I have been writing full time since 2005. I write short stories and novels. My novels include the bestselling WW2 spy story 'The Black Orchestra', and its three sequels, 'The Wings of the Eagle', 'A Postcard from Hamburg', and 'The Gingerbread Spy'

Many of my short stories have been published in mainstream magazines. Check out 'EGGS and Other Stories' - a collection of satirical SF stories. I was born in a cabbage patch in Ireland, and I still live here with my first wife, although a significant part of our extended family lives in Australia.

Ellie Midwood

 

Ellie Midwood is a USA Today bestselling and award-winning historical fiction author. She owes her interest in the history of the Second World War to her grandfather, Junior Sergeant in the 2nd Guards Tank Army of the First Belorussian Front, who began telling her about his experiences on the frontline when she was a young girl. Growing up, her interest in history only deepened and transformed from reading about the war to writing about it. After obtaining her BA in Linguistics, Ellie decided to make writing her full-time career and began working on her first full-length historical novel, "The Girl from Berlin." Ellie is continuously enriching her library with new research material and feeds her passion for WWII and Holocaust history by collecting rare memorabilia and documents.

In her free time, Ellie is a health-obsessed yoga enthusiast, neat freak, adventurer, Nazi Germany history expert, polyglot, philosopher, a proud Jew, and a doggie mama. Ellie lives in New York with her fiancé and their Chihuahua named Shark Bait.

Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger

 

Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger was born in Minnesota in 1969 and grew up in the culture-rich neighborhood of "Nordeast" Minneapolis. She started her writing career with short stories, travel narratives, worked as a journalist and then as a managing editor for a magazine publisher before jumping the editor's desk and pursuing her dreams of writing and traveling. In 2000, she moved to western Austria and established her own communications training company. In 2005, she self-published a historical narrative based on her relatives' personal histories and experiences in Ukraine during WWII. She has won several awards for her short stories and now primarily writes historical fiction. During a trip into northern Italy over the Reschen Pass, she stood on the edge of Reschen Lake and desperately wanted to understand how a 15th-century church tower ends up sticking out of the water. What stories were lying beneath? Some eight years later, she launched the "Reschen Valley" series with five books and a novella releasing between 2018 and 2021.

For more on Chrystyna, dive in at inktreks(dot)com.

Would love for you to check out this fabulous collection of stories and the authors above.

Till the next time.

Take care Zoe