Spotlight on Nancy Northcott, author of The King’s Champion

 

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The Boar King’s Honor Trilogy

A wizard’s misplaced trust

A king wrongly blamed

A bloodline cursed until they clear the king’s name.

Book 3: The King’s Champion

Caught up in the desperate evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force from France in the summer of 1940, photojournalist Kate Shaw witnesses death and destruction that trigger disturbing visions. She doesn’t believe in magic and tries to pass them off as survivor guilt or an overactive imagination, but the increasingly intense visions force her to accept that she is not only magically Gifted but a seer.

In Dover, she meets her distant cousin Sebastian Mainwaring, Earl of Hawkstowe and an officer in the British Army. He’s also a seer and is desperate to recruit her rare Gift for the war effort. The fall of France leaves Britain standing alone as the full weight of Nazi military might threatens. Kate’s untrained Gift flares out of control, forcing her to accept Sebastian’s help in conquering it as her ethics compel her to use her ability for the cause that is right.

As this fledgling wizard comes into her own, her visions warn of an impending German invasion, Operation Sealion, which British intelligence confirms. At the same time, desire to help Sebastian, who’s doomed by a family curse arising from a centuries-old murder, leads Kate to a shadowy afterworld between life and death and the trapped, fading souls who are the roots of her family’s story. From the bloody battlefields of France to the salons of London, Kate and Sebastian race against time to free his family’s cursed souls and to stop an invasion that could doom the Allied cause.

The King’s Champion concludes Nancy Northcott’s exciting Boar King’s Honor Trilogy.

 

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 The Herald of Day

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The Steel Rose

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The King’s Champion

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The Boar King's Honor Trilogy Links:

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FUN FACTS

My favorite periods of English history are the Dark Ages, Elizabethan, Wars of the Roses, Regency, and Battle of Britain though I also have a soft spot for Restoration.

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My favorite kings are, in chronological order, Alfred the Great, Henry V, Richard III, and Charles II (hence the soft spot mentioned above).

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I took tae kwon do for several years so I could write fight scenes, earning a high blue belt before I stopped.

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The inspiration for the secret (meaning unknown to us regular types of people) societies of the wizards and mages in my two series with magic came from the secret identities of superheroes, particularly the Justice League of America.

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 I love military history, especially naval history because my parents met while serving in the U.S. Navy.

 

 HMS Victory – photo by Nancy Northcott

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Nancy Northcott

Nancy Northcott’s childhood ambition was to grow up and become Wonder Woman.  Around fourth grade, she realized it was too late to acquire Amazon genes, but she still loved comic books, science fiction, fantasy, history, and romance.

Nancy earned her undergraduate degree in history and particularly enjoyed a summer spent studying Tudor and Stuart England at the University of Oxford. She has given presentations on the Wars of the Roses and Richard III to university classes studying Shakespeare’s play about that king. In addition, she has taught college courses on science fiction, fantasy, and society.   

The Boar King’s Honor historical fantasy trilogy combines Nancy’s love of history and magic with her interest in Richard III. She also writes traditional romantic suspense, romantic spy adventures, and two other speculative fiction series, the Light Mage Wars paranormal romances and, with Jeanne Adams, the Outcast Station space mystery series.

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Spotlight on Griffin Brady, author of The Hussar’s Duty

 

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Poland’s most valiant winged hussar is called to fight in a campaign ripe for disaster. But he must also protect those he loves from jackals waiting to pounce. How does he choose between duty and devotion when death is on the line?

When Sultan Osman II sends Poland's envoy packing, the Commonwealth must prepare for war against one of the largest armies the Ottomans have ever assembled. Tasked with repelling the invasion is Grand Hetman of the Crown Stanisław Żółkiewski, and he knows who to turn to: Jacek Dąbrowski, the Commonwealth’s most valiant Polish winged hussar.

Jacek has been idle far too long, and the call to arms is a siren’s song he can’t resist. But he has built a life far from the battlefield with his wife, Oliwia, and their children. If he pursues his quest for glory, who will safeguard them?

Oliwia knows her husband is restless. In fact, she’s been sending Jacek on cross-country errands for years in the hopes of quelling his lust for battle. When she realizes her efforts are futile, she resolves herself to letting him go—after hatching a scheme to accompany him.

Honor. Obligation. Devotion. These forces push and pull Jacek in different directions. His country needs him, but so does his family. Where does his duty lie? His choice will cause catastrophic ripples no matter which path he follows … and could very well bring the loss of his loved ones or his life.

Will the cost of defending king and country prove too steep for this warrior?

This is a standalone continuation in The Winged Warrior Series.

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 FUN FACTS

Griffin Brady

I had no idea what or who the Polish-winged hussars were. I had never heard of them, nor had I ever delved into Polish history. One day, as I was researching daggers for a different historical fiction I had in mind, up popped a link to “Badass of the Week.” I couldn’t resist! When I clicked on the link, I landed on a page that lauded these 16th/17th-century shock troops and listed battle after battle where they were victorious despite incredible odds against them. I fell into that world and haven’t climbed out of it yet!

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My current novel features a specific battle that took place in present-day Romania in 1620, and the information on it was rather scant. As I don’t read or write Polish, my ability to delve into the research was even more limited. I reached out to a very helpful blogger who directed me to a 1970s chronicle that depicted the battle in wonderful detail. The entire thing, however, was written in Polish. It was such a rich resource, and it dispelled some of the other research I had gathered. I wanted accuracy for my story, so I rolled up my sleeves and spent weeks typing line after line of a 252-page book into an online translator. I learned that one typo had the potential to change an entire paragraph, and I often found myself laughing out loud at some of the interpretations.

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I was born in Japan, where my father worked for Pan American as a director of sales. When I was three, my family moved to Vietnam, and my parents put me in a French nursery school for a different experience (or, I’ve always suspected, to have a handy translator). I went on to attend an all-girls elementary school, where French—the national language of Vietnam at that time—was the only language spoken. English was spoken at home with my family, but it really became my second language. Once, when my mother woke me up for school, I could only speak in French—in my groggy state, I couldn’t recall my English words! While living in Vietnam, we went through several coup d'états that made life pretty spicy.

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During the Loma Prieta Earthquake in 1989, I was working in San Francisco, about a half hour from where I lived. I had taken the train that day rather than the bus because the World Series was taking place at Candlestick, and I wanted to avoid getting snarled in the highway traffic. My workday was over, and as I stood outside waiting for a bus to take me to the train station, the earthquake struck. Watching asphalt ripple, windows in high rises bow, and chunks of masonry fall from buildings was a surreal experience.

The bus never came, and a total stranger and I walked the many blocks to the train station, stepping over rubble as we went. When we reached the station, I discovered no trains were running. The tracks all had to be inspected. In those days, there were no cell phones, and none of the pay phones worked, so I had no way of finding out if my husband was okay and to let him know I was alive.

A bus that normally takes people back and forth to the casinos in Nevada pulled up. The entrepreneurial driver was heading south, in the direction where I lived, and for $15, one could climb aboard. I emptied my wallet and got on the bus while he still had room. He wasn’t familiar with San Francisco, and getting out of the city on a large bus was an adventure, especially since there were no working traffic lights.

The next adventure came when I got off at my “stop” on a main thoroughfare a few blocks from a quiet side street where I had parked my car. It was pitch black by then, and of course, there was no electricity and, therefore, no lights. As I walked toward the parking lot, a van with two men inside began following me, slowly rolling beside me and matching my gait. Heart in my throat, I hurried my steps. By some miracle, a police cruiser pulled up behind them and flashed its lights. Where that cruiser came from—especially given the pandemonium of that night—I have no idea, but I’m eternally grateful. I scurried to my car, locked the doors, and took off. The entire trek from the train station to home stretched over five hours. When I pulled into our driveway, my husband rushed out of our front door. I had managed to hold a stiff upper lip, but all my bravado evaporated, and I dissolved into tears.

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I moved out at seventeen after graduating from high school and landing my first job in San Francisco. I knew no one and was introduced by one of my new co-workers to a girl who was looking to move into an apartment with a roommate. We agreed to an arrangement, but she lost her job and started bringing home some unsavory characters. I eventually got my own place, and after I moved in, I noticed different people watching my new apartment. I thought I was being paranoid until my sister, who was helping me decorate the place, made a comment. The surveillance finally stopped, and the mystery was solved about six months later when I read in the paper that my ex-roommate had been arrested for armed robbery. Apparently, she had started her new “career” while she and I still roomed together, and detectives were watching to see if I was involved.

 

Griffin Brady

Griffin Brady is an award-winning historical fiction author with a keen interest in the Polish Winged Hussars of the 16th and 17th centuries. She is a member of the Historical Novel Society and Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. Her debut novel, The Heart of a Hussar, was a finalist for the 2021 Chaucer Early Historical Fiction Award and a 2021 Discovered Diamond.

The proud mother of three grown sons, she lives in Colorado with her husband. She is also an award-winning bestselling romance author who writes under the pen name G.K. Brady.

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Book Spotlight and Excerpt: The Douglas Bastard (Archibald the Grim Series) by J R Tomlin

 

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Young Archibald, the Black Douglas's bastard son, returns from exile to a Scotland ravaged by war. The war-hardened Knight of Liddesdale will teach him what he must learn. And with danger on every side, he must learn to sleep with one eye open and a claymore in his hand because even their closest ally may betray them...

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 Excerpt

Thomas Ramsay ambled toward us from the horse lines. As Thomas passed, he gave Will a shove.

Will scooped up a rock, tossed it in reply, then said, "Archibald here will be one of the mighty, feared knights of Douglas after tomorrow.”

"He's tall enough for it.” He winked. "At least he is nae skinny as a crane, like someone in the camp."

"Better skinny than a fat-headed loon like you."

"I left a wineskin in my tent. I might be willing to share, even with someone who can hide behind a broomstick." With a shove, Thomas tumbled Will off his log.

Will jumped up and ran, whooping.

I burst out laughing. "I hope you really have some wine."

"Aye, I do. The two of you may as well celebrate tonight because you will be busy tomorrow." His face grew serious. "Our first taste of battle as a knight. But surely it cannae be that different from being a squire."

I grinned. "But the important question is which of us will be first up the ladder? I say it will be me."

Thomas thrust a fist into the air. "I am the King's bannerman. It should be me."

I slapped him on the shoulder. "I cannae argue with that. You and Will go first, but leave some of the English for me."

Then Will came back, held out the wineskin, and waggled it back and forth. When Thomas grabbed at it, Will gave it a squeeze. A thin stream of red squirted in Thomas's face.

Thomas jumped up. "Hoi! Don't waste good wine."

Will dodged, laughing. "I tasted it. It isnae that good."

I lunged and grabbed it. I squeezed a stream into my mouth. God's toenails, it was almost vinegar, but I did not care. Will and Thomas would drink with me tonight and fight beside me on the morrow. That would more than make up for the taste of the wine. I handed it to Thomas, and we shared a grin.

When the two eventually stumbled away, I went into the tent to sleep at the foot of Sir William's cot, my last night as his squire. For a long time, I lay staring into the dark, trying to see an unimaginable future.

When Sir William nudged me with his foot, I opened my eyes, surprised that I had fallen asleep.

The day had dawned warm, and from outside came an uproar of knights shouting for armor and the clamor of men-at-arms claiming their spears. The camp was in a fever of noise and preparation.

I aided him into his armor, then, for once, he aided me as well.

He nodded. "It is time." When I laughed, he gave the back of my head a friendly slap.

So I bit my lip to hide my grin and followed him through the camp, squelching through mud churned up by thousands of feet. We wended through tents that stretched across the broad field. A wind had come up, and charcoal-gray clouds tumbled over each other on the horizon.

At the front of the King's tent was a crowd all in armor. I wondered if they could hear my heart hammering. It seemed so loud, beating so hard it might escape my chest.

King David stood with Sir Robert Keith, the Marischal, before the tall staff that held his banner. He was dressed for battle in a gilt steel cuirass with steel faulds, gauntlets, and greaves covered by a surcoat embroidered with a lion rampant, the gems for its eyes catching the light.

"I have brought you my squire, Your Grace." Sir William held out the hilt of a sword with one hand and a belt in the other.

David's eyes met mine and crinkled into a smile impossible not to return. In these past few years, I had grown so much that I now topped him by a hand's span. Strange to remember when I was little more than a bairn, and he had promised this day would come. He would make me a knight.

I wiped my sweaty hands down the white tabard covering my chainmail hauberk and dropped to both knees at his feet.

He lifted the sword and tapped me firmly on first one shoulder and then the other. "In the honor of the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost, I make you a knight. Be you good and faithful and never traffic with traitors until your life's end."

The knights behind me raised a din, hammering on their shields. Colban and Gamelin whooped and shouted, "A Douglas! A Douglas!" The rest of the throng joined in until the camp rang with it.

David reached both hands toward me, and I placed mine between his.

My throat was so tight that I had to clear it to speak. "I, Archibald Douglas, become your man in life and in death, faithful and loyal to you against all men who live, move, or die. I declare you to be my king and my liege lord—so may God help me and all of the saints."

"By the grace of God, I take you as my man." For a moment, David's hands tightened on mine. "Arise, Sir Archibald!"

I stood and another cheer went up. Sir Robert held the sword while David fastened the belt around my waist. He took the sword and proffered it, and with a steady hand, I accepted. Sir William dropped to a knee and fastened on my golden spurs.

I turned and gave Will, standing behind me for his turn, a light punch on his shoulder. My grin was so big it hurt my cheeks. I remembered telling him so long ago that it would be a braw day when we would fight together. And this was that day. And both of us knights.

J R Tomlin

 

J R Tomlin is the author of twenty historical novels.

Her historical novels are mainly set in Scotland. You can trace her love of that nation to the stories of Robert the Bruce and the Black Douglas that her grandmother read her when she was small and to her hillwalking through the Scottish Cairngorms where the granite mountains have a gorgeous red glow under the setting sun.

In addition to having lived in Scotland, she has traveled in the US, mainland Europe, and the Pacific Rim. She now lives in Oregon.

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Book Spotlight: Lucy by Vicky Adin

 

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Emma’s curiosity is piqued by a gutsy young climate change campaigner with an antique trinket box full of women’s rights badges, but tracing their history pushes her to her limit.

Struggling to recover from Covid-19, Emma is terrified of developing a chronic and incurable condition and becoming a burden. She tries to ignore her fears and keeps working. She has clients who rely on her. Paige is a spirited environmentalist whose wealthy father tries to curb her enthusiasm. But she is intent on making her mark on the world in spite of him. Emma is torn between untangling the mysteries of Paige’s legacy or saving herself when exhaustion threatens everything she cares about. 

In 1892, twenty-one-year-old Lucy, a dedicated suffragist is determined women shall win the right to vote this time. Since her mother died, she has grown up in the glow of her father’s benevolence. Winning the franchise has become her raison d'être, greater even than her love for Richard. She goes canvassing and is ambushed by a man who undermines her confidence. Conflicted between winning the vote or safeguarding those she loves, she redoubles her campaign efforts. But a moral dilemma puts her future in jeopardy.

A compelling tale of Lucy the suffragist and the courageous women who fought for their right to vote (Book 3 in The Art of Secrets series, dual-timeline sagas about finding your roots).

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Vicky Adin

 

Vicky Adin’s passion is writing inter-generational sagas inspired by early immigrant women’s stories in New Zealand, linked by journals, letters, photographs, and heirlooms.

As a genealogist and historian, Vicky has combined her skills to write heart-warming novels weaving family life and history together in a way that makes the past come alive.

Delve into the new dual-timeline series, The Art of Secrets, family sagas about finding your roots… or Become engrossed in The New Zealand Immigrant Collection, suspenseful family saga fiction uncovering the mysteries, the lies and the challenges of the past.

Vicky Adin holds a MA(Hons) in English and Education. She is an avid reader of historical novels, family sagas, and contemporary women’s stories and loves to travel.

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