Acclaim for “Annie’s Story, Blessed With A Gift”

Annie picture Annie’s Story, Blessed With A Gift

I have just started a second beta reader on my upcoming book–Historical Fiction Based On Fact, Past-Life Hypnotic Regression. I wanted to share what my reader, who had asked me to beta read the book after seeing my last blog on “Annie”. This is what she had to say after reading just the first two small chapters where Annie’s parents die of the dreaded fever prevalent in early Colonial America:

OK, they died and passed to another dimension…got that.  Don’t leave me hanging; what’s next?!?

Obviously I am hooked.  And that is not easy because from all my years proofreading, grammatical errors, etc., become very distracting to me.  Your writing has none of those.  Plus it reads fast ( if you know what I mean).  I hate reading where I have to stop and focus on every single word.

Frankly, I am picky about what fiction I read and I find yours intriguing.  Your characters are beautifully  brought to life (which you promptly killed-off) without excess verbiage — kudos.
You made me cry.  Not because she died but understanding the utter despair he must have felt conscious enough to ken what was coming.

Between you and I, my family also has such “gifts” in our background, which by-the-way is heavily Scottish and Welsh.
Of course, I will be sending the rest of the book for her to read, Sections II-VI. I hope to have the book finished and published by July/August 2016. I have about two Sections and The Epilogue to complete. –Deborah A. Bowman, Author






A Little Sneak Peek of New Novel, Coming Soon: ANNIE’S STORY: BLESSED WITH A GIFT

The joy of being able to work in the gazebo on a wonderfully, beautiful day like this!
The joy of being able to work in the gazebo on a wonderfully, beautiful day like this!



Section I

James and Mary

In the Year of Our Lord 1630

“Going Home”

The pain ceased and he saw Mary, fresh and lovely as a spring’s misty morn with the sun peekin’ o’er the pinkish purple and amber hills of The Highlands. This time he not only heard the voices clearly, but saw the happy faces of his Clansmen; not just his immediate fam’lee, but warriors he had fought beside and watched die fightin’ The MacKinnon’s dreaded enemy, The MacLeoids; as well as wee bairns and babes lost to The Clan in infancy and youth; and Mary’s kin as well, veiled in the shadows.

In the middle of them all, in a gleaming gold light, stood his Mary in a white dress with The Blackbain Plaid o’er her shoulder, the earthy colors of The Plaid blending with an armful of Highland wildflowers and a wreath of yellow, red, and pink rosebuds crowning her glorious dark auburn hair. A loving smile graced her luscious lips, and her rosy cheeks glowed as she reached out to him as his bride.

James stepped out of the dark and soiled cabin into the lush green of rollin’ hills, reflected in the deep blue water ‘round The Isle. He was dressed meticulously as a groom in The MacLean Kilt, the silver and dark emeralds of The Brooch at his broad shoulder twinklin’ in the sun.

Aye, they were home at last.