Normal service will be resumed next week!

Apologies for there not being a 'Welsh legend' post again this week.  I'm still grieving for my little dog and trying to catch up with everything.  I thought you might like to see a picture of the bridleway in Wales where I used to ride before I moved to England. (It runs left past the gorse bush).This is a recent photo -the landscape hasn't changed at all, and was one of my favourite rides, miles and miles of unspoilt countryside and not a car in sight!

Please pop in tomorrow when I'll be reviewing  a SF romance 'A Matter Of Trust' by  
Greta van der Rol

To Tempt An Angel, super book blast and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Patricia will be awarding a free eBook from Lachesis Publishing to a randomly drawn winner via the rafflecopter at the end of this post during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

NOTE: this book is FREE everywhere!  Buy links are at the end of this post -- why not download your own copy today?

Angelica Douglas has no idea that she’s the Countess of Melrose. What she does know is that she needs to support her family as a card shark, while finding a way to seek revenge on the men who ruined her father and sent her family spiralling down into poverty.

Robert Campbell, Marquess of Argyll, heir to the Duke of Inverary, has no idea who Angelica truly is. He just wants to watch over her and make her his mistress.

Angelica thinks Robert is simply a dashing rogue who is far too dangerous for her peace of mind. Robert thinks Angelica is an angel except when she’s being a pain in the behind.

When Robert finds out that his own father may have been one of the men who ruined Angelica’s family, he vows to keep a careful eye on her. When Angelica finds out that Robert’s father may have been one of the men responsible, she vows to stay as far away from Robert as possible. But when danger threatens, both Robert and Angelica must face the truth and let fate take the upper hand.

Enjoy an excerpt:

London, 1812

He knew she was cheating.

Angelica read the suspicion in the man's alcohol-glazed eyes. She was confident of her talent, so being caught didn't worry her, but drunks almost always proved dangerous. With the exception of her own father, of course.

Eighteen-year-old Angelica Douglas wet her lips, gone dry from nervousness, and felt a droplet of perspiration roll slowly down the valley between her breasts. Reaching up, she brushed a wisp of golden hair away from her face and adjusted the wreath of fresh-cut flowers she wore like a crown on her head.

Angelica gave her intended victim a sunny smile and flicked a glance at the group of fairgoers gathered in front of her table. Seated on a stool, she began moving the thimbles around and around on the makeshift table that consisted of a board resting on top of a trestle.

“Stop,” the man growled.

Angelica looked at him expectantly.

He pointed at the middle thimble. Angelica lifted it to reveal nothing and laughed with delight.

“Yer cheatin',” he accused her, his foul breath making her stomach queasy.

Seemingly unruffled, Angelica looked him straight in the eye. “Sir, you are a poor loser,” she told him in an affronted tone. “Would you care to throw dice instead?”

“I ain’t throwin’ dice with no girl,” the man snapped, and turned to go.

“Afraid?” Angelica challenged him, making her audience laugh with approval. When the man kept walking, she shifted her blue-eyed gaze to those watching and asked, “Would anyone care to throw dice with me?”

“I would love to throw with you,” answered a voice in a tone suggesting intimacy.

The crowd parted for the handsomest man Angelica had ever seen. Older than she by ten years at least, the black-haired and dark-eyed English Adonis carried his tall, well-built frame with athletic grace. Though commonly dressed in black breeches and white shirt, the man had the bearing of an aristocrat.

Sacred sevens, Angelica thought, his devilishly good looks startling her. She felt as if Old Clootie, in all his sinful perfection, had stepped out of the crowd to lead her astray.

I'm a dog person. Who lives with 10 cats. Get the picture?

My first brush with the romance genre happened in my high school junior year. I discovered Gone With the Wind and hid it behind my American history book to read during class. (The Civil War is American history.) The ambiguous ending left me dissatisfied, though. Rhett and Scarlet needed a happily-ever-after. Believing in happily-ever-afters positively screams romantic-at-heart.

On the other hand, I love murder and mayhem as much as happily-ever-after. My usual television fare is fiction and nonfiction crime shows, not love stories. Which accounts for the mysteries I sneaked into my historical romances. Now I'm trying my hand at writing a humorous mystery, sans historical and sans emphasis on the love interest. I even prepared for my mystery-in-progress by attending the local NRA's Pistol School. Shooting pistols is great fun. I adore the .22 semiautomatics.

After graduating from high school without distinction, I earned both Bachelor and Master degrees at a state college. Again, without distinction. I held several part-time jobs during my college days: file clerk in an insurance company, long-distance telephone operator, kimono-wearing waitress in a Japanese restaurant.

And then I began my teaching career, eighteen years in the eighth grade and thirteen years at the high school. Weary with the same old routine, I decided I needed a creative outlet. So I decided to write a romance novel but only managed to talk about writing one. After five years of listening to me, a friend said to stop talking and start writing.

So I did.

I made every mistake known to man. Blunder would be a more appropriate word, but I did learn using the trial and error method. As well as studying the works of authors I admired.

After five years of writing for nothing but love, I sold my first novel. Since then, I've sold eighteen novels and won several awards--- National Readers' Choice Award New England Readers' Choice Award, Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice and KISS Awards, B. Dalton and Bookrak Awards for best-selling author. My novels have been translated into fifteen languages and sold in twenty countries.

If I had my life over, would I become a writer? Nope. I would enjoy being a Victoria Secret model. Perhaps in my next incarnation I won't be too old, too short, or too unphotogenic.

www.patriciagrasso.com

https://www.facebook.com/patricia.grasso.902

BN http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/to-tempt-an-angel-patricia-grasso/1005102935?ean=9781927555071

Kindle http://www.amazon.com/To-Tempt-Angel-Book-Douglas-ebook/dp/B00A2WZ1IC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1401151486&sr=8-1&keywords=to+tempt+an+angel

Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/to-tempt-an-angel-2

iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/to-tempt-angel-book-1-douglas/id576045599?mt=11

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tribute to Bouncer

Bouncer at the shelter, before we adopted him

Instead of my 'Welsh Legend Monday' I'm devoting today to my beloved little 'rescue', Jack Russell, Bouncer.

Tragically we had to have him put to sleep last Thursday. He had several brain tumours and had slowed down over the last few months, although he was still happy and mischievous, and very, very 'knowing'.  On Wednesday night he started having convulsions and on Thursday we had to make the terribly sad decision to make sure he did not suffer any more.

Bouncer first came into our lives in September 2007.  I had emailed an animal shelter in Wales and they sent me his picture. There were other dogs available for rehoming, but how could I possibly refuse that little face and the silent plea in those dark eyes?  I knew he was meant to be ours.

From the minute he stepped through the door it was as if he'd always been part of the family.  I put the blanket we'd bought for him which he'd been lying on, on the way home, in his bed and he climbed straight into it and curled up, quite at home.  Among his new toys was a red, plush dragon which he 'loved' to death. After a few weeks it was as flat as a pancake, and missing its eyes and horns, but he slept with it every night of his life with us.



He'd been badly treated in the past, and his hip had been broken and allowed to heal without a vet, so it healed a bit crooked and he walked with a bit of a swagger, with his feet pointing to a quarter to three, like a little penguin, as he 'sashayed' along.




He was such an inquisitive little dog and soon found a small hole in the garden fence where he could spy on next door's cat.

I think he believed if he slept on a growbag, he might turn into a Great Dane and not have to stand on flowerpots.

He loved going down  to the horses with us, and would investigate every nook and cranny of the feedroom, where he could probably smell the resident mice and our 'feral' stable cats. 

His favourite thing in the world was his 'treatball' and as soon as he finished his morning and evening meals he would sit and ask for it to be filled with treats and chase it around, batting it with his nose or his paw to get the treats out with a dexterity and expertise that would have made David Beckham green with envy!

About two years ago he started to lose his sight and gradually went completely blind, but he didn't allow it to interfere with his enjoyment of life and still managed to get around and play with his treatball and enjoy his daily 'walkie'. In November last year he had what the vet at first thought was a 'mini stroke' but scans revealed to be inoperable brain tumours. We were devastated.  How could our clever, happy little dog have this inflicted on him on top of everything else?  For a while we thought we were going to lose him, but he was such a little fighter and after a week or so on new medication, bounced back, true to his name, and it was hard to believe there was anything wrong with him, he certainly didn't lose any of his zest for life, or knowing ways, and was still as bright as a button.

We went 'home' to Wales for a few days last week and while we were there he began to have convulsions and we knew it was time to say goodbye to our beloved little friend and companion. He is buried, his paw resting on his red dragon,  in a lovely, peaceful spot on my sister's land, with her two dogs. It seems fitting that he should be laid to rest in Wales, where he came from.  He will be sorely missed by us and everyone who knew him, and will never ever be forgotten.  Rest In Peace little Bouncer, and wait for us at the Rainbow Bridge.

The legend of Blodeuwydd

I hope you enjoy today's legend.  I'm away for a few days visiting relative in Wales, so please excuse me if you comment and I don't get back to you.  I promise I will answer as soon as I am able.

The story of Blodeuwedd (Blaw - dow- ith) is one of the legends belonging to the Mabinogion, a famous collection of old Welsh legends.

A woman named Arianrhod had two sons, one whom was named Lleu Llaw Gyffes. She had a dislike for Lleu and put three curses on him: that he would not receive a name unless it was given by her, he would not receive his armour unless from her, and the last curse was that he would never be allowed to marry a mortal woman.

When he grew to manhood, Lleu called upon his two uncles, who were the wizards, Gwydion and Math,  to help him find a wife.

With the  chant "Take the flowers of the oak, and the flowers of the broom, and the flowers of the meadowsweet, from those they conjured up the fairest and most beautiful maiden anyone had ever seen.They created a wife for Lleu Llaw Gyffes out of flowers and  baptized her, naming her Blodeuwedd, meaning 'flower face'. Blodeuwedd was beautiful and innocent; immediately Lleu fell in love with her and the two were married.

After she had become Lleu's bride, and they had feasted, Matb said, “I will give the young man the best Cantrev to hold.The Cantrev of Dinodig.” The place was a palace in a spot called Mur y Castell,the old name for Tomen-y-Mur  near Traswfynydd There Lleu and Blodeuwedd reigned, and were beloved by all.

Not long after the marriage, Lleu left Blodeuwedd alone in their castle at Tomen y Mur  as he needed to visit his uncles on business. She became bored and lonely, Then one day a hunting party approached the castle, led by Gronw Pebyr, the lord of nearby Penllyn. He told Blodeuwedd that his party was looking for somewhere to stay and Blodeuwedd invited them to stay in the castle. She became infatuated with Gronw Pebyr and the two began an affair. They decided to kill Lleu, so she and Gronw could be together. However, Lleu couldn’t be killed in any normal way,
not during the day or night,  neither riding nor walking, not clothed and not naked, nor by any weapon lawfully made.

When Gronw and his hunting party left and Lleu returned, Blodeuwedd pretended to be worried about his safety and asked him what method could be used to kill him,   He revealed  that he could only be killed at dusk, wrapped in a net with one foot on a cauldron and one on a goat and with a spear forged for a year during the hours when everyone was at mass. Blodeuwedd went to Gronw Pebyr with the information and they arranged his death. Gronw Pebyr  began working on a spear immediately.

Exactly one year later, Blodeuwedd convinced him to demonstrate how impossible it would be for him to be in the position where he could be killed, by chance, and when he did so, her lover Goronwy leapt out and struck with the spear he had been forging for one year during the sacred times of mass. Because Lleu  had one foot on the side of a metal cauldron  and the other on the back of a goat, Gronw’s plan was successful. But what Lleu had not told Blodeuwedd was that he could lose his life. Instead, as soon as the spear hit him, Lleu turned into an eagle and flew away into the forest.

After hearing the news, the  wizard Gwydion set out to find Lleu. He found him in a tree in the forest nearby, living off the meat of a wild boar lying at the footof the tree. Because of his magic powers, Gwydion was able to turn Lleu back into a man.

Lleu set out to find Gronw Pebyr and Blodeuwedd. Lleu killed Gronw Pebyr, but  Blodeuwedd had run to the forest.  Gwydion managed to corner her and as punishment for what she had done, he turned her into a tawny owl, telling her that every other bird would fear her and thus she would have to live the rest of her life in solitude. 

  







The name of Lleu and Blodeuwedd's castle in the tales,Mur y Castell, is  thought to be an early reference to the site where later the
Roman fort of Tomen y Mur was built, near Trawsfynydd.