Showcasing author Christine Lindsay, Part Two

Back in 2013 I started a showcase of one of my sweet author friends, and I just discovered, I never actually completed it! HERE you will find the first post if you wish to read it. I hope you can forgive me, my precious friend! Please, next time remind me. I've not been the same since recovering from chemo and radiation and all the poison they put in my body.

And to my readers . . . ENJOY learning about the books by this wonderful author!

SHADOWED IN SILK Book 1 of the Twilight of the British Raj series by Christine Lindsay

She was invisible to those who should have loved her.

After the Great War, Abby Fraser returns to India with her small son, where her husband is stationed with the British army. She has longed to go home to the land of glittering palaces and veiled women . . . but Nick has become a cruel stranger. It will take more than her American pluck to survive.

Major Geoff Richards, broken over the loss of so many of his men in the trenches of France, returns to his cavalry post in Amritsar. But his faith does little to help him understand the ruthlessness of his British peers toward the Indian people he loves. Nor does it explain how he is to protect Abby Fraser and her child from the husband who mistreats them.

Amid political unrest, inhospitable deserts, and Russian spies, tensions rise in India as the people cry for the freedom espoused by Gandhi. Caught between their own ideals and duty, Geoff and Abby stumble into sinister secrets . . . secrets that will thrust them out of the shadows and straight into the fire of revolution.

Reader Reviews:

Christine's debut novel is stunning and I was immediately drawn to life in India where each character was exquisitely portrayed. There is drama, romance and mystery. Christine's descriptions are breathtaking and her writing is a perfect weave of a stormy plot. I was on edge until the end! I had no idea what kind of trouble India was in during the time of the Great War. This is a captivating story of hope and redemption as well as love and adventure. I look forward to the next book in this series—Knowlton Nest (Amazon Reviewer)

"Shadowed In Silk" by Christine Lindsay deserves more than the 5 stars I can give it. This book really kept me reading when I knew I should have turned off my ipad and go to sleep. This book had my attention even before I read the first sentence because of the cover and the title. Then when I read the first sentence I was drawn more into the story and couldn't wait to get into the rest of the story.

This book is written so well that I could see the scenes described in my mind. It was like watching a movie. This book is a love story as well as a fictional history of India. There is a glossery in the front of the book to help with the words but I was able to follow along with the story. I only used it about third times—Debbie Curto (Amazon Reviewer)

Shadowed in Silk is available on Amazon , Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Deeper Shopping Christian Bookstore.

Excerpt from Shadowed in Silk

Sunlight blinded Abby. Against its rays the silhouette of a soldier with the lean lines of a cavalry man scooped Cam up. Her little boy wound his arms around the man’s neck, and she put her hand to her mouth. So many nights these past few years she’d urged sleep to come, imagining this scene at the pier.

As the man walked toward her she made out his clean-shaven features under the peaked military cap. Major Richards, who’d befriended Cam on the ship, carried her son back to her. It wasn’t Nick enfolding his son close.

“Mrs. Fraser,” Geoff said when he reached her.

She turned to the major a smile she didn’t feel. “With the two of you such good pals I think it’s about time you called me Abby.” She forced a lighter tone. “I was thinking those suffragettes back home might have something, marching about quite pleased with their self-reliance.”

The major’s stony look melted into puzzlement, then his gray eyes began to dance. “I can imagine you marching about with a placard in your hands. For a good cause, of course.”

“But of course.” In spite of Nick’s absence, her smile deepened. “My husband’s not able to meet us, so I was about to hire a—”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. As the major turned toward the street, the sun set afire the twisted, burgundy scar that traveled from his temple to his cheekbone. She fumbled for the word that escaped her.

“Rickshaw,” he finished for her. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll see you to the train station. Going that way myself. And you’re right, the little CO and I are great friends.”

“Little CO?”

He sent a pointed glance at Cam.

She laughed. “Oh, I see. Commanding Officer. I hadn’t realized he’d been given a recent promotion.”

“I’m meeting a friend, Miriam, at Victoria Station. We arranged to meet and travel at least some of the time together. She runs a medical clinic in Amritsar, where you’re going.” His mouth grew tender.

She darted a look up at him. What sort of woman made the ever-so-proper major’s heart flutter? Her own insides did a somersault. Did the same kind of love wait for her from Nick?

 Within minutes a driver loaded their luggage onto a tonga. They climbed into a separate rickshaw and joined the hundreds of other tongas, bicycles, carts, trams, and cars. With the pier behind them they headed for the station.

“Unfortunate your husband was unable to meet you,” Geoff said, never taking his eyes from the passing streets. “India’s not safe for a woman and child traveling alone.”

“I’m aware of that, Major. I was born here.”

“But not raised here.”

Abby lifted her chin. “I may be a bit of a mixture—American mother, British father—but India is my home.”

His eyes twinkled as he dipped his head, conceding defeat. “Everyone onboard wondered how you as a civilian got passage with demobilizing troops, until we realized who your father was. I imagine the general’s name pulled strings for you.”

“Maybe,” Abby drew the word out. Her adrenalin surged, remembering the stuffy war department offices in London. “Let’s just say I made a few social calls to friends of my late father.”

 “Many would call General Mackenzie Hughes a pillar of the British Raj. You must take after him. Most young woman would have collapsed into tears being stranded at the pier.”

“You forget, Major, I am coming home.”

His chuckle reverberated from deep within him. “I do keep forgetting. You’re an old India hand. How old were you when you left?”

 “I was a wise old memsahib of six when I first left these shores.” She tucked a strand of hair under her straw boater hat and, catching his eye, laughed out loud.

 “Ah, yes . . . a memsahib. “He sat back, and all amusement left his face. His tone bordered on dryness. “I daresay you’ve forgotten all that entails. No fear, the wife of your husband’s colonel—your burra-memsahib—will be only too pleased to instruct you on the protocols of being a proper memsahib.”

Their shared laughter had disappeared as if snatched by the flock of green parrots swooping over their heads. But as though he remembered his manners, the major lifted Cam onto his knee, his well-oiled Sam Browne belt creaking as he did. The man and the boy immersed themselves in conversation. Interspersed with Cam’s piping voice she caught the hint of a Northumberland burr in Geoff Richards’ speech. His crisp, English school accent must be a learned one, like Nick’s.

She had enough of an ear to recognize her husband had worked hard to gain that polished manner of speaking, but she knew next to nothing of Nick’s youth. Six weeks wasn’t long enough to know a man.

Bombay’s traffic bustled past. Her fingers itched to pull out the telegram she’d folded into her bag at the pier. But there was no need. The words were stamped on her mind. Nick hadn’t said much, but at least he’d acknowledged they were coming. She had to cling to that, to keep believing they’d become a real family, given time. Perhaps have more children. Cam would have brothers and sisters, a houseful of them . . . and love. Not the existence she’d had growing up in Albany under the disinterested eye of her mother’s only sister.

She’d waited four years. The train trip would take three days. Only three more days, and all she longed for would be waiting for her in Amritsar.

Christine Lindsay is an Irish-born writer, proud of the fact that she was once patted on the head by Prince Philip when she was a baby. Her great grandfather, and her grandfather—yes father and son—were both riveters on the building of the Titanic. Tongue in cheek, Christine states that as a family they accept no responsibility for the sinking of that great ship.

It was stories of her ancestors who served in the British Cavalry in Colonial India that inspired her historical series Twilight of the British Raj of which Book 1 Shadowed in Silk has won several awards, and Book 2 Captured by Moonlight. Christine is currently writing the final installment of that series called Veiled at Midnight to be released August 2014.

Also coming out February 2014 is Londonderry Dreaming, a romance novella set in Londonderry Northern Ireland, not far from Christine’s birthplace.

Her newest release is a short Christmas story, Heavenly Haven, has just been released as an Ebook Oct. 15, 2013.

Christine makes her home in British Columbia, on the west coast of Canada with her husband and their grown up family. Her cat Scottie is chief editor on all Christine’s books.

Please drop by Christine’s website www.christinelindsay.com

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