Monday, February 17, 2025

Meet Joan Koster, Another Author Who Celebrates Sassy Ladies, and Read About PRAIRIE CINDERELLA, Sculptress Vinnie Ream

I'm currently working on the 4th book in my "Sassy Ladies Series" and have found a kindred soul in Joan, whose series is called "Forgotten Ladies." I've read, enjoyed and highly recommend every one of them (see my Amazon reviews). Her newest release celebrates Vinnie Ream, the Victorian sculptress whose statue of Abraham Lincoln stands in the Rotunda of the U. S. Capitol.

About Joan

When she is not writing in her studio by the sea, Joan lives an 1860s farmhouse stacked to the ceiling with books. In a life full of adventures, she has scaled mountains, chased sheep, and been abandoned on an island for longer than she wants to remember. 

An ethnographer, educator, and award-winning author who loves mentoring writers, Joan blends her love of history, and romance into eye-opening historical novels about women who shouldn’t be forgotten and into romantic thrillers under the pen name, Zara West. She is the author of the award-winning romantic suspense series The Skin Quartet and the top-selling Write for Success series, and of multi-award-winning biographical historicals  including THAT DICKINSON GIRL, CENSORED ANGEL, and now PRAIRIE CINDERELLA.

Joan blogs at JoanKoster.com, American Civil War Voice, Zara West Romance, and Zara West’s Journal and teaches numerous online writing courses. 

An Excerpt From PRAIRIE CINDERELLA


The Capitol, Washington City, April 1866

“Ah, this is where you hide out.”

I snap my head up. The woman is a stranger, but I can tell she hasn’t come to make a purchase or praise my work. Beneath her fashionable hat, adorned with bunches of fake cherries, she wears the nose-pinched expression of someone smelling not the rose petal potpourri discreetly placed around the studio, but the stench of something foul.

She moves along the wall, studying the medallions on display. “These are yours, Miss Ream?” She glares at me. “You are Miss Ream, I presume?”

I grab the wet rag hanging on a hook by my work stand and wipe the clay dust from my fingers. “Vinnie Ream, at your service. All the works here are mine. And available for purchase.”

She puts on spectacles and peruses my newest work—the bust of a bare-breasted young woman, which I’ve christened Violet.

The woman straightens. “Heard about you. Had to see for myself.” She gives me a long stare. “I’m Jane Swisshelm.”

A polite greeting sticks in my throat. Everyone has heard of the razor-tongued, overly opinionated journalist who gave her all to the wounded soldiers during the war but then had the distinction of being fired by both Horace Greeley and the War Department for being too radical in her news articles.

I curtsy and force out a response. “You are most welcome to my little studio, Mrs. Swisshelm.”

Little studio? You’re right here in the Capitol. That’s an honor deserving of a renowned artist like Clark Mills, not you. You look to be all of fourteen. But buxom enough, I guess. And all that hair. No wonder the men are rapturous about you. Be forewarned: I am not so easily persuaded by a bit of feminine fluff.”

She sails across to my bust of Lincoln and places her hand on top of the head as if my most important work is nothing more than a doorpost. “Heard you’re claiming the President himself posed for you?”

How dare this woman accuse me of lying? I bite out the words, “He did.”

“Well, my good friend, Mary Todd, disagrees. Says she’s never heard of you.”

“My arrangement was with the President and his secretary.”

“So you say.” She clasps her hands in front of her own less-than-generous bosom. “I’m here to tell you to drop the petition you’re circulating. You have no right to make a marble sculpture of him.”

I should grovel. Pretend to think about her suggestion. After all, I’m not sure what I am going to do. But I can’t. The woman reminds me too much of Ma and her dictates. So, I throw back my shoulders and firm my voice. “You can’t tell me how to pursue my career.”

She comes closer. “Give up the petition, or I’ll spread the rumor that your obscene woman in the shop window is actually you. A self-portrait, shall we say.”

“What? Are you blind? That looks nothing like me. That is a classical pose based on numerous renowned works of art.”

“It is unsuitable for you to show such nakedness, and an insult to all women. Men do not need their lust stirred by bared breasts.”

“It is a most appropriate work to be created by a woman. Why should only men be allowed to sculpt our sex? No one criticizes them for sculpting nude males.”

Her lips pinch together. “The only reason to create nudes of either sex is to titillate.”

“The human body is beautiful and wondrous. It must be. After all, the Lord has modeled a good many people in the nude.”

Swisshelm sneers. “Our good Lord has no place in this den of obscenity or in this discussion. Mark my words. If you continue the course you have set for yourself, you will be rebuffed in society.”

“Society, as you call it, doesn’t accept me now—an upstart girl from the wild prairie who works with her hands. But people who value excellent artwork support me with their pocketbooks.” Poker-hot anger overrides my commonsense. “Long after you are gone and your newspaper turned to dust, Mrs. Swisshelm, my work—nude or dressed—will endure. Do your worst. I’m going to get that commission.”

To learn more about Jane Swisshelm see my article: “Jane Gray Swisshelm on Congressional Behavior.”

To learn more about Vinnie Ream see my article “Vinnie Ream on Art and Nature.”


Why Joan wrote PRAIRIE CINDERELLA: The Story of American Sculptress Vinnie Ream Hoxie

Vinnie Ream was both celebrated and reviled in her lifetime. She was petite, outgoing, and female. The fact that she wanted to be a sculptress at a time when the art world was dominated by men who believed only European-trained artists were the best is what makes her success more incredible.

Yes, some of her success was due to chance. Because she was born in a log cabin like him, Abraham Lincoln at the height of the Civil War gave her permission to sketch and sculpt him during his afternoon naps. After his assassination, at the age of seventeen, she rose to prominence for her bust of him done from life. This led to her receiving the first sculpture commission given by Congress to a woman. Today, her statue of Lincoln stands in the Rotunda of the U. S. Capitol, where it is often seen during state occasions.

But it was not all chance. Vinnie Ream was an amazingly gifted woman who despite her lack of training excelled in art. She was also personable and smart.

Of course, such an accomplishment was questioned. How could a young girl sculpt the body of man? (Remember this was the Victorian age.) How could a frontier-raised American, who'd never been to Europe, be any good at sculpture? How did she get Congress to give her a studio in the Capitol and to vote her $10,000 plus a $5,000 bonus for Lincoln’s statue?

Naturally rumors flew. Some man did the work for her. She never met Lincoln. She traded favors with Congressmen to get the commission. Mark Twain went so far as to call her “the smartest politician of all.” This was to be expected at the time. What surprised me was that these claims are still made today by academics who wink and nod when they talk about her. That got me angry and that is why I wrote this novel.

In PRAIRIE CINDERELLA, I have tried to portray her as a complex woman who was driven to create but who also gave her all to take care of the people she loved. There are two love stories in this novel, and a happy ending. Vinnie Ream was amazing. I hope you will read Prairie Cinderella and come to love her as much as I do.

Purchase PRAIRIE CINDERELLA

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Friday, February 7, 2025

Meet My Guest Robert Herold And Read About His Paranormal Romance THE DEVIL'S DREGS, Nominated For The Paranormal Romance Guild's Reviewer's Choice Awards


Hi! I'm Robert Herold, author of three novels with The Wild Rose Press and five novelettes in the Seattle Coven Tales, self-published on Amazon. I love history,

horror, chocolate, jazz, theater, and ethnic foods.

Before going further, I have a very big favor to ask. My novelette, THE DEVIL'S DREGS, has been nominated for the Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewer's Choice Awards! The next step is a popularity contest. Please do me the very great honor of voting for my story! (They won't spam you or sell your email address. Any info they take is just to prevent people from voting multiple times.)

You don't have to have read it (yet!) to vote. If you like the cover, vote! If you don’t like the cover, vote! If you like chocolate or puppies, vote! Any promo helps.


Click Here to Vote

It's about halfway down in the list of nominees (in the novellas/shorts category).

Thanks heaps!



Here’s a bit about my story:

A witch has stolen Steven Metcalf's newborn son and intends to sacrifice the child to her dark lord. Steven and his two friends scour Seattle to rescue the infant, but the city has become infested with witches and their allies. Can Steven and company save the innocent before it's too late?

"The must-read paranormal series of the year." --  N. N. Light Book Heaven

My other work includes three novels, part of the Eidola Project series, and I’m currently working on the fourth. The series follows a group of 19 th-century ghost hunters who become entangled in deadly supernatural investigations. The team of ghost hunters includes Harvard psychology professor William James (a real-life ghost hunter), his female assistant, an African American physicist, a young woman who was a sideshow medium, and a traumatized Civil War veteran, each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses. The books also act as a distant mirror, dealing with modern themes, such as women’s rights, racism, and drug abuse—while conveying a cracking good tale. (Each of these titles has won awards, too, as has the series!) This series is available through all major online booksellers and can be read as an eBook or as a paperback.

I also write The Seattle Coven Tales, set in the contemporary world. They follow a graduate student (in history, of course!) at the University of Washington and his sommelier girlfriend who are lured into a world of witchcraft and become targeted for sacrifice. Can they escape a world where murderous witches seem to be everywhere? This series has won awards, too, and is only available through Amazon. (Several titles are currently on sale, and all are free with Kindle Unlimited.)



The Link to All My Books on Amazon



Robert as Ghostbuster


Why do I write horror?  I come by it naturally. As a boy, I wanted nothing more than to be a werewolf. When snow occurred, it provided me the opportunity to walk out onto neighbors' lawns halfway and make paw prints with my fingers as far as I could stretch. I would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on this lawn! (They were skeptical.)

As a teen, I helped with the creation of a haunted house, mostly as a gofer, and got to be a werewolf (oh, the joy) once the place opened. This haunted house was sponsored by a local rock station and was not for kids. It had many a frightful room that we repurposed in an old home before it was to be torn down. I, as the wolfman, was in a room with Dr. Frankenstein and the monster, and we all jumped at folks and delighted in their screams. Then, toward the end of the evening, in a moment of werewolf abandon, I decided to jump up onto the wall and grab the bars on a window to howl at the moon. Much to my chagrin and pain, the iron bars were actually wooden dowels that broke off, and I crashed down onto my werewolf tailbone. I howled in pain. People loved it! I, however, too embarrassed to admit my pain and mistake, limped the two miles home that night instead of begging a ride from someone with wheels. My lesson: One must suffer for one’s art.

In the end, I realized writing about horror was considerably safer and even more fun. I hope my work gives you the creeps, and I mean that in the best way possible!

Best witches, er, wishes,

Robert Herold, Author

Visit My Website

Thursday, January 16, 2025

PROHIBITION--the 19th AMENDMENT--RATIFIED ON THIS DAY IN 1919

On this day in 1919, the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, prohibiting the “manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors for beverage purposes,” was ratified by the requisite number of states. My romance thriller BOOTLEG BROADWAY is set during this wild era. More booze flowed during Prohibition than when it was legal! When I first created the characters, I had nothing for them to do yet--I just knew I had to get my hero, the scatterbrained musical genius Billy McGlory, into one mess after another, each worse than the one before. The ending surprised even me--and I wrote it! It was an amazing era to research, especially in boozy New York City. It's Book Two of the New York Saga.

A 5-star Amazon review:

The Cat's Pajamas

Diana Rubino had me on the first page, and didn't let go until the end. Her writing evokes Depression-era New York City richly and thoroughly, from the rhythm of the language to the sounds on the street. You can practically hear the music and the clinking of glasses in the speakeasies.


Billy McGlory is a train wreck in the best possible sense. Ms. Rubino has written a brilliantly flawed character whose good intentions spin slowly but inevitably out of control. I couldn't stop tracking his descent into hell and wondering, as he does, how he'd get out of this. A beautiful character study and a fascinating story of the American Thirties in all their danger and dazzle. Bravo!

It's in print, on Kindle, and on audio with the animated New York native Nina Price.

getBook.at/NewYorkSagaBookTwo


Friday, January 3, 2025

Meet Thomas Goodman, Award-Winning Author of Fact-Based THE LAST MAN: A NOVEL OF THE 1927 SANTA CLAUS BANK ROBBERY

I honestly cannot remember how I heard of Thomas's book, but not long before the holidays, the title caught my eye--was it on Amazon? Facebook? Goodreads? I thought, jolly good! With Christmas around the corner, I'll read an uplifting story starring Santa! But little did I know....well, no matter how I found it, I'm glad I did--when reading the synopsis I saw that it was based on a bank robbery that took place in the small town of Cisco, Texas in 1927, and the leader of the pack was dressed as Santa. As a history nut fascinated with true crime books, I couldn't pass this one up! It was captivating to say the least--read my Amazon review--and when I contacted Thomas to invite him as a guest here, he graciously accepted. So read on--then don't miss out on this story that might have given Bonnie & Clyde AND the James Gang a run for their money (no pun intended)....





About Thomas

Thomas closely based his debut novel on a true crime the Associated Press dubbed "The Santa Claus Bank Robbery." He first ran across the story when he lived in the small Texas county where it all took place. He currently lives in Austin, where he has been able to conduct extensive research on the events and characters at the Texas State Library and Archives Commission. 

About THE LAST MAN (2024 Spur Award Winner and 2024 Will Rogers Medallion Award Winner)

When Santa Claus enters a Texas bank just before Christmas in 1927, no one expects him to pull a gun. The fake white beard hides his identity from his neighbors while he and three others take everything. But their easy heist goes sideways fast when armed lawmen and citizens assemble to claim a new reward for dead bank robbers. Taking hostages, the gang forces a path through a frenzied and bloody shootout, setting the whole Lone Star state on their trail. One bandit dies in the getaway. One is executed in the electric chair. One swings from a rope in a mob lynching. The last man finds a life he always hoped for … if only he can keep it. Closely based on a true story, THE LAST MAN is a gritty Prohibition-era Western novel filled with flawed characters and second chances.

Excerpt

The man stood in the midnight shadows for a long time and studied the empty bridge that led into Juárez. Light spilled from the customs booth closest to him on the American side of the river. Two hundred yards away, a bare incandescent bulb glowed in a booth on the Mexican side.

Slow and casual, he told himself, and approached the bridge. He turned up his collar as if to block the chill wind, but mostly to keep his face hidden from the customs officer sitting behind the glass of the stateside cubicle. He kept moving. He wasn’t required to stop on this side.

He was halfway across the Rio Grande when headlamps from a car behind him lit up the bridge. In the beams, his silhouette stretched and wavered toward the Mexican customs booth. Brakes whined faintly as the motor rig slowed to his pace, but he continued walking and kept his face forward. The car advanced into his sidelong view. Lamps like chrome cones rested on wide fenders that curved gracefully down to become running boards. A gold star was painted on the side, encircled with the words “City of El Paso Police Department.”

He sighed and his shoulders slumped. It was going to come to an end sometime anyway, the other three being dead and all.

Purchase THE LAST MAN

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