Well, the Goodreads Giveaway for Keeping Secrets is over. There were 1100 entries by the time the contest ended. I have the names of the five winners and will be mailing them their books by the end of this week. Congratulations to all of them!


The book is now available (a day early) at Amazon in both paperback (Createspace) and Kindle. You can also access direct links on this blog on the right side bar of my main blog, as well as on the Novels page of my website.

Indie authors like me rely on their ratings and reviews, so if you enjoy Keeping Secrets, please leave a review at Amazon and/or Goodreads. It can be the same review if you like. It's not necessary to write two different ones. The more reviews an author receives, the higher their rating and the higher they climb in search engines. The higher the book is in search engines, the more exposure it receives.

I must admit, having a book finished that you really can't do anything more with is a bit intimidating. (I can make small changes through Createspace and Kindle, but nothing major.) It was a little bit troublesome to set it aside and move onto the next one. However, I did start writing Breaking Promises in earnest yesterday. I am excited about what the future holds for David and Annie.  I hope those of you who have read or will read Keeping Secrets are anxious to find out what happens to them as well.

My goal is to make Breaking Promises even better than Keeping Secrets. Thanks to Robin Matheson's classes through Romance Writers of America last January and February, I have a good start. I told her last year that if I got the second book published I would dedicate it to her, as she helped me through a particularly rough patch in my plotting. I will make good on my word by the end of the year, God willing!

Again, congratulations to the 5 winners of the giveaway, and blessings to you all!

Not Again!

I've learned a lot the past month in trying to get Keeping Secrets off the ground and to readers. One of the biggest mistakes I made was not hiring someone to do a quick edit check on the manuscript. I'm pretty good at checking mistakes, but when it's your own work you tend to overlook things.

The other mistake was not hiring a formatter. I finally got the hang of it, but in the hours I spent in editing and formatting I could have had the rough draft for Breaking Promises nearly finished. I made a decision, after resubmitting the files one more time this morning, that I would NOT fix anything else. There are no longer any huge mistakes, so little ones will have to slide. Hopefully, there won't be too many.

So, imagine my surprise when, this morning, it happened again. Another mistake on my work.  Not in the manuscript, but in my book trailer for Keeping Secrets. I was looking at the trailer when it jumped from the page. The stock art on one slide had the company's name across it.

I thought I was going to pull my hair out. The last thing I wanted to deal with was an error in a book trailer. As it turns out, I didn't even purchase that particular picture from that company, but found it at another site. However, since the trailer is on Youtube, I had little choice but to replace the picture because of licensing issues.

That's when I got my second, nasty surprise.

I had deleted all the pictures from Windows Movie Maker last week when I started working on the book trailer for Breaking Promises. Instead of my pictures, there were all these nasty little red "x"s on the pictures. I had no choice but to upload the picture and rebuild the trailer.

Needless to say, I won't get those two hours back.

I am glad to report, however, that the updated version is now on Youtube, my website, my Facebook page, and my Goodreads author page. There shouldn't be any licensing issues with this one. I checked and doublechecked again. I have learned another valuable lesson to add to the long list of those I've already learned this month. Don't delete pictures from Windows Movie Maker, and always, always, always be sure to doublecheck that you've used the ones you've purchased, and not those you are just "playing around with."

Keeping Secrets is due to be released this Thursday, May 29. My Goodreads giveaway for 5 free autograph books is close to 550 as of now. If you haven't entered, be sure to do so.

Religious Freedom? Not so Much

Contrary to popular historical thought, colonial America was not built upon freedom of religion. Not counting the lost colony of Roanoke, the first settlement in the New World was at Jamestown, Virginia, in 1607. Although this colony went through several periods of near abandonment, the colony survived enough to consider that year as its date of establishment.  This colony was NOT founded on any sort of religious pretext whatsoever, but was founded purely on England’s desire to expand its border beyond Europe and to beat its rivals, Spain and France, in founding new territories. The Virginia settlers were Englishmen and were supporters of the Anglican Church. That religion, naturally, became the state religion of the colony. In 1753, the year my novel, Keeping Secrets, opens, colonists were expected to support the church and the priests with their tithes and money, as well as attend Anglican services. Fines were levied against those who chose not to do either. 

The Pilgrims are oftentimes not only hailed as being the first colonists to settle the New World, but they are praised for their courage in leaving England to establish a country for religious freedom. Neither is the case. The Pilgrims did not land at Plymouth, Massachusetts until 1620, nearly 13 years after the settlement at Jamestown. It was, therefore, the second English settlement in the colonies, and ironically, while they left England for freedom of religion, they turned around and held a monopoly on religion much like what they left England to escape. Anyone who has read of the Salem witch trials, or Roger Williams and Anne Hutchinson, knows the kind of pressure Puritans could bring to bear on those who chose to follow a path different from their own. While they believed in freedom of religion for themselves, they did not believe in it for other people. 

Unlike Virginia and the Plymouth Colony, the colony of Maryland, granted a charter in 1632, was founded by Catholics on the idea of religious freedom. Originally a haven for Catholics, by the early part of the 18^th century, it had been supplanted by Protestant factions, and the Catholic Church was driven underground. Mass was not allowed in public, and Catholics never regained their primary standing in any colony. 

Dunker Meeting House, Maryland
(Friends Meeting Houses were similar in structure)

In 1681, William Penn founded Penn’s Colony, or Penn’s Wood, also on the idea of religious freedom.  Penn, himself, was a Friend, however, the Friends were eventually disenfranchised there as well despite their large numbers. Part of the problem with Pennsylvania Friends was their western border which endured a constant state of Indian wars from the mid-18^th century to well after the Revolution. “Quaker pacifism,” in the face of such brutal hostilities, just didn’t make sense to the vast majority of colonials. 

The Baptists and Methodists arrived in the colonies at around the same time as the Friends. While there were other smaller groups, for example, the Mennonites and the Moravians, they were smaller and of lesser consequence than the main religious sects.  In the south, especially in Virginia, the Church of England was the established religion, so fines were levied against those who refused to participate, including Catholics, Baptists, Methodists, and the Society of Friends.

It was within this hodgepodge of religious availability that Keeping Secrets opens. While Mary McKechnie is a devout Friend, embracing her religion and all it entails, Amon Cayle is not. The Friends literally controlled every aspect of their members’ lives, and while devout Friends welcomed the structure, many chafed against the restraint.

For Amon Cayle, the problem is deeper. He doesn’t believe the Friends, as a religious group, have the authority to tell him how to live. Thus, he constantly walks a fine line between raising his kids to follow God, staying in good standing within the Friends so as to honor the promise he made to his late wife, and his quest for inner peace.  Amon Cayle’s turmoil mirrors so many of the Friends at that time.

     Amon laced his fingers together and rested his elbows atop his knees. The heat from the open window warmed his back. “What happened with Jackson?”

     The boy looked away, but not before Amon caught a glimpse of shame.

    “The note from Andrew says thee picked a fight with him.”

     Still nothing.  Amon felt his temper rising. “David, if thou will not speak to me, I will have to punish you with the information I have. After last year, I will not tolerate any fighting.”

     “He said his Pa was trying to keep me out of the test so he had a better chance of winning and . . .”

     "And what?”

    “And that as long as you were a disorderly walker, he just might win.”

    “So you started a fight?”

    “No. He started it.”

    “Who threw the first punch?”

    “I did, but he shoved me into a tree.” David shifted his right shoulder forward. “Tore the last good shirt I have.”

    Amon reached up and pulled the three inch ragged tear apart to reveal a middling patch of inflamed raw skin.  That goodness it wasn't the other shoulder.  "Tell Rosie to put something on that later.”

     "‘Tis not even my shirt. Aunt Agathy found an old one at her house and gave it to me.”

    “What’s wrong with yours?”

   “They are all too small. I gave them to John. With this torn, I don’t know what I will wear to school tomorrow.”

   Amon ran his hand along his jaw. He wasn’t going to punish the boy for defending himself, and he didn’t doubt David was telling the truth. His nephew had been caught in too many lies over the years, lies his brother always believed. 

   “What am I going to do Pa? I’ve worked my whole life to take that test.” 

   “I am seeking restitution at the Friend’s next monthly meeting. After that, I will again be a member in good standing.”

   David’s chin jerked upwards. “I don’t want thee lowering yourself to apologize to those people for me.”

   Amon thought his head would burst. “Do you want to take the test?”

David nodded.

   “Then ‘tis a good thing I go to meeting.”

   “But ‘tis not fair. Elizabeth was the one who took off and married a Baptist behind your back. So why apologize?”

   The pressure around Amon’s heart was almost too much to bear. “Because I made a promise to your mother before you children were born that I would try to remain faithful to the Friends, and as long as I remain censured for Elizabeth’s marriage, it puts the rest of you outside their world.”

From the moment Keeping Secrets opens, Amon Cayle’s doubt as to the authority of the Friends collides with his family and his promise to his late wife. Eventually, he is forced to make decisions.

But will those decisions be in the best interest of his children?

And what will they have to do with Mary McKechnie?

The Problem of Blossom

Originally published May 2, 2014 on my blog on my author page. Reprinted here. 

Excerpt from Keeping Secrets --

      “Come on, old woman.” Mary ignored the cow’s bawling and tugged the red milking devon by the rope into the skinny dirt lane leading up the hill to her house. She untucked one end of her white scarf from her bodice and wiped the perspiration from her forehead, then dabbed her neck. The occasional northern breeze offered only minimal relief against the heat and no relief against the mucky, rank smell rising from the cow’s muddy hooves and legs.

       Mary raised her eyes to start up the hill towards home. Halfway to the house, Amon Cayle and several of his children turned around. She stopped. Why in the world would that man be here?

      Blossom bumped into her back. Mary scrambled her feet, but just as she regained her balance the cow’s tongue slid up her cheek. She shoved Blossom’s slobbering jaw sideways, being careful to avoid the curved horns.

      The girls giggled. Amon cleared his throat in silent reprimand.

      Mary tucked the ends of the scarf back into her bodice, then forced her legs forward.

Blossom, like other cows in the American colonies, was a red milking devon, one of the oldest and purest breeds of American cattle in existence. Brought from Devonshire, England, to the then English colonies in the 1600s, they were used for milk, meat, and as draft animals (for work). Their milk was especially good for making dairy products. The glossy red coat ranges from deep mahogany to chestnut, while the horns are white with black tips. By nature, they are calm, gentle, intelligent animals that are not afraid of hard work. It was difficult not to turn them into pets, as Mary McKechnie and her girls certainly make of Blossom.

Blossom is indicative of so much of our history that we, not only as a nation, but as humans have lost. In fact, we've lost not only ideas and traditions, but "things," including animals, as well. In the years preceding the American Revolution, this cattle was found on every farm in colonial American from Maine to Florida. By the 1970s, however, there were only 100 purebreeds in existence. That's not only hard to imagine, but it's heartbreaking. At this time, thanks to the conservation efforts of several groups starting in the 1980s, there are 600 pure breeds on record. Seventeen of these live at Williamsburg, Virginia, and are a part of their domesticated breeds program.  

For Mary McKechnie, the thought that red milking devons would someday be nearly extinct would have been laughable. Besides, she was too concerned with feeding her girls and keeping Blossom in her corral.

     “Having trouble?” Amon’s dark eyebrows drew together.

      Is that all he could think of to say?

     “She is old and gets more stubborn with age,” Mary said. “We never use to have trouble with her leaving, but after our other cow died last spring she has done nothing but get out to find company.” She pushed a damp curl dangling near her right eye back into her coif and then started towards the frail weathered barn to the right of the house.

      Amon fell into step beside her. “How did she get out this time?”

     “I don’t really know. We fixed several weak areas in the fence last week, and we moved the rope higher so she couldn’t pull it off the post.”

      Why was her voice shaky? And why was she rambling so?

      "Does she go somewhere specific?”

      Now why did the man ask that? For that matter, couldn’t he smell the beast?

      "To your bog. There is a patch of sweet clover she likes.”

      "The bog isn’t the safest place for a cow, Sister Mary.”

      "I am well aware of how dangerous the bog can be, Brother Amon.” Why was the man here? It wasn’t to discuss her wayward cow. She shoved the animal into the corral. Once she was rid of Amon, she would come back and clean the mud from the animal’s legs. She pulled the natty rope over the top of the gate.

      “Believe me, I am trying to keep her in, especially since I think she is calving.” She bent over and shoved a rock three times the size of her fist in front, then turned back around to find the quartet watching her.

      “Sister Mary, this is my daughter Elizabeth. And this,” he said, chucking the toddler’s chin, “is my daughter Abby.” He reached behind his legs and steered a small boy out by his coal-black head. “This is Thomas.”

      Mary’s knees weakened so she had to lean against the fencing. If it hadn’t been for the cow’s rough tongue nuzzling her cheek yet again, she would have fainted. She tore her eyes away from the boy and forced them back to Amon’s face. That wasn’t much better. The man was better looking now than in his youth. His round face had chiseled around the cheeks and jawline, and his eyes had taken on a deep cobalt color. She had to fight the dizziness in her head. 

Apparently, Blossom is not going to be Mary McKechnie’s only problem.

Where is the Friend (Quaker) bonnet?

Published April 25, 2014 on the blog on my website. Reprinted here. 

Now that my cover for Keeping Secrets is posted and out there, the question is bound to come up in the minds of my future readers. They might retain the thought in their head. They might whisper it behind my back. Or, heaven forbid, they might even access social media behind my back. Gasp!

But the questions will all go something like this - "I thought Donna wrote a book about the Quakers. Then why is the woman on the front of her cover dressed like that? And where is the Quaker bonnet?"

Let me first state that NO ONE in 18th century America wore bonnets. They weren't the fashion yet. Headwear for women, which was much like Allstate Insurance for they would "never leave home without it," consisted of either a straw hat, oftentimes tied under the chin with a ribbon, or a mobcap. 

"Okay, Donna. That's fine about her head, but what about her dress? It's certainly not black. And where's the large collar? Didnt you do your research?"

Unless you were a Puritan, you didn't wear black garments or large white collars. The Virginians, and the rest of the colonies for that matter, wore bright colors and fancy fabrics, including silks, satins, and jacquards. 

And the Friends, in 18th century Virginia, dressed much like everyone else. Sort of.

“Papa,  I want my big boy waistcoat out of this.”  Thomas jumped up to touch a bolt of red, shiny damask.  He turned sideways to gauge his father’s reaction, then spied some shiny, gold buttons.  He reached for them and held them up to his chest.  “And I want these buttons.”

“Son, ‘tis a bit bright.”

“I like bright. And red.”

“I will agree to the red fabric in this.”  Amon held up a heavy broadcloth which had no shine.  “I will not agree to the buttons.  Sister Mary can give thee fabric buttons to match?”

It had started as a statement, but ended as a question directed to her.  Mary nodded her agreement.  While she still didn’t like the idea of the red waistcoat, she wasn’t about to say anything.   She was working for Amon. She would sew what he ordered.

Friends did shun excess lace, which oftentimes bordered the neckline of their dress as well as the sleeves of their chemises. Even colonial men wore an inordinate amount of lace on their sleeves and collars. Friends also shunned the satins and silks, preferring more functional fabrics such as linens and broadcloths, and they shunned excess amounts in their shirts and waistcoats. While many of them did prefer dark colors, such as deep burgundies, forest greens, and chocolate browns, not all of them did. They did, generally, avoid bright fabrics, such as reds and pinks. They avoided gold and silver buckles on their shoes and kept their ribbons of a simple fabric and color. Sometimes this devotion to plainness resulted in wearing outfits that were out of "style," since Friends didn't believe in buying new clothes to keep up with the latest fashion. That would have been wasteful and a poor use of God's money. Records of meetings are replete with admonishments to Friends to dress in plainer fashion so as to be more "pleasing to God."

While later generations of Friends chose to set themselves apart by their clothing, these early generations did not. As a matter of fact, their refusal to serve in the militia, their use of "thees" and "thous," and their overall simplicity of life set them apart from their colonial counterparts far more than their clothing. All in all, it would have been difficult for the average colonial to distinguish between a Friend or a non-Friend based on their clothing alone. 

If you read my previous blog, you know the trouble I had finding appropriate stock photography for my cover. The woman dressed in this outfit was as close as I could come, and since she wore no headcovering, which would have been necessary for historical accuracy, I chose to do a cover from her neck down. That worked well since that is the latest fad in covers. 

Lttle Thomas Cayle's desire for shiny red fabric and shiny gold buttons is indicative of so many Friends at the time. They straddled a world of excess and simplicity, with the  average Virginian who drank  hard, raced hard, and worked hard on one side and the plain life of the Friends on the other.  Training the younger generations to follow in the faith of their parents with outside forces swirling around them was no different than the struggle of parents today to raise our children in the faith.

As for little Thomas, like so many children today, he had a very simple reason for wanting such a fancy outfit.

But you'll have to read the book to discover what it is. 

For Want of a Nail

Published on my website blog May 1, 2014. Reprinted here with a different picture.  

(Leeds Castle, England)

For want of the nail the shoe was lost.

For want of the shoe the horse was lost.

For want of the horse the rider was lost.

For want of the rider the message was lost. 

For want of the message the battle was lost.

For want of the battle the kingdom was lost. 

All for the want of a horseshoe nail. 

Gee willkers! And all I want is a cover for this novel!

Apparently, no one writes much historical fiction set in the 18th century any longer. And there are NO novels about Quakers or members of the Society of Friends. How do I know? 

I know because I have just spent countless hours the past week pouring over stock images. All of the colonial woman, and that is perhaps about three at the most, have dresses that are too fancy, or their faces are not my Mary Langdon McKechnie, or they are blonds with and without their hair down. Don't even get me started on how difficult it is to find colonial men. 

Covers are important. Let me repeat - COVERS ARE IMPORTANT! How many times have you picked up a novel based solely on the cover? 

The cover for "Keeping Secrets "needs to speak of intrigue but not deception. It needs to speak of long lost secrets (you'll have to read the book to find out what they are) that can change lives. it needs to scream "colonial America." And on top of that tall order, it needs to be something I can tweak slightly, with the same theme for the second and third books - "Breaking Promises" and "Binding Fire." 

And most of all, it can't be smutty. Don't get me wrong. Smut sells. Plenty of people ike to write it and read it. But this isn't such a novel, and it would discredit my characters to put pictures of them in such poses on the front cover. Besides, there aren't any smutty graphics of colonial men and women either. 

"Well, if you're having such trouble, hire someone." Surprsingly, most of the designers are using the same stock photography that I have access to. They may have better graphic tools, but I still have to pick out my own pictures. That brings me back to the original problem.

I finally, after days and hours and bleary eyes, designed a cover yesterday that I really like. It doesn't scream "colonial America," but it does have a hint of the historical. The back cover copy, with a scene from the book, lets the reader know this is a work of historical fiction and the characters are members of the Society of Friends. 

I may have to go with it. After all, I don't want to lose the whole kingdom for want of a nail.

Or, in this instance, the whole book for want of a cover.