Liz Arnold

University which was one of the best professional decisions she ever made. She is currently working on a trilogy of historical romance novels set in the Northwest Territory of the late 1700’s before Ohio became a state.

Liz is a member of Romance Writers of America, Northeast Ohio RWA, RWA Online, and teaches English part-time online. She is a frequent guest speaker for writers’ groups and loves yoga, meditation, and herb gardening.

Liz’s motto: Live today. Laugh at yesterday. Love the promise of tomorrow.

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Uncaged welcomes Liz Arnold

Welcome to Uncaged! A Healing Touch released in August and is a historical western romance featuring a medicine woman. Can you tell readers more about this book?

Hello and thank you for this opportunity to talk to Uncaged Book Reviews! A Healing Touch started out as my second historical novel project. The first one (Message to Love) was inspired by a dream and ended up being set in a difficult place (Cuba!) for me to reach as far as research, but I did my best. I wanted to write something closer to home. I love the Ohio Valley and its rich history and superb resources. The story is about a young female herbal healer in 1796 Baltimore with a desire to be doctor, but women aren’t offered that kind of education or opportunity at the time. Her family has previously moved to the Northwest Territory (now the state of Ohio) so she decides to join them and start her own practice there. It turns out to be an arduous journey. She encounters everything from a near-drowning in the Ohio River to being captured by a Shawnee Indian clan who happen to be suffering from an epidemic of smallpox. Regardless of the condition, Molly Hilliard selflessly tends to those who need help because it’s her calling to be a healer. Her steadfast dedication to being a physician is challenged by the existence of a man she meets on her way to the frontier. Romney Applewood. He’s got his own demons to overcome and find the right doctor to help his fourteen-year-old sister who he rescued from an abusive situation. She’s mute but otherwise seems healthy. Dr. Molly wants Romney to help get her down the Ohio River to a town called Marietta, but he is going the opposite direction. There is a bounty on his head because he is suspected of being a traitor. Molly and Romney discover that it takes love and respect for all people to blaze a trail together on the frontier.

What inspires you to write in the historical genre? Do you have a lot of research?

I’ve always been a fan of historical fiction because I have this continuous curiosity that makes me ask a lot of questions. One of my favorites is how did someone do something yesterday that I’m doing today? As far as research, I love that part and can be my own worst enemy by going way too far down rabbit holes. However, that tendency always leads me to some interesting facts that I sprinkle throughout my books. I also get a major thrill out of finding and working with primary sources like actual letters and journals from a time period. They provide my stories with authentic tone and allow me to include snippets of things that readers of historical fiction appreciate. For instance, the character Romney wears a crescent-shaped “earbob” made from silver which is something I came across in my research.

What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

I saw an intriguing request by an agent on Twitter asking for a story based on a historical event that took place in Charleston, South Carolina during the Reconstruction period after the Civil War. Because it involves a mermaid, I’m writing a young adult

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historical fantasy novel that has been a pleasure to research and write even though fantasy isn’t my normal genre.

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Actually, I’ve kinda enjoyed being home. Something about being a reclusive writer and a Scorpio has allowed me to feel okay with being home all the time. That said, I’m anxious to get back to yoga class in a studio and not in my home workout space seven days a week.

What was the first book that made you laugh and/ or cry?

The Wizard of Oz by Frank L. Baum because it’s the quintessential heroine’s journey story and the characters are so metaphorical. I love double-duty characters who tell the story as well have a deeper meaning to their existence.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

Yoga, meditation, and herb gardening are my saviors.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

I write about four hours a day five to six days a week. Because I teach online and it pays the bills, I have to devote time to that as well.

From the first time the pen hits the notebook paper and I start writing down the plot to the last revision session takes six months.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I have learned to appreciate ebooks, but I hands-down prefer physical books. Right now I’m reading:

The Heroine’s Journey: For Writers, Readers, and Fans of Pop Culture by Gail Carriger

Romance in Season by Barbara Jean Miller

My Last Duchess by Eloisa James and

Dracula by Bram Stoker (I read it once a year because I’m fascinated by the many contemporary issues we face that it addresses such as patriarchy, gender, wealth and status, and it’s epistolary in format, which I love.)

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Liz’s motto: Live today. Laugh at yesterday. Love the promise of tomorrow.

Enjoy an excerpt from A Healing Touch

A Healing Touch Liz Arnold Western Historical Romance

Doctor Hilliard: Medicine Woman. Snakebites or smallpox, saving people, including herself, is what Molly Hilliard does best, and she intends on being a doctor in the Northwest Territory, except he guide is causing all sorts of prob-

| LIZ ARnOLD |

In post-revolutionary America, Molly Hilliard wants to be more than an herbal healer, and she answers the lure of adventure on the Ohio River and journeys to the Northwest Territory seeking the freedom to set up a medical practice. Along the way, she tries to hire Romney Applewood as a guide, but he is going the opposite direction. After ten years as a captive of the Delaware Indians, Romney wants to get as far east as possible to forget his past and avoid the bounty on his head for taking part in raids upon settlers’ homes.

Something about the way she sacrifices herself to heal others, and something about the way he endures the difficulties he encounters because of his tormented past, links them in more than their quest as they blaze new trails in their lives and on America’s frontier.

Excerpt

The rushing water snatched them, and they floated fast to the joint of the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers. Romney watched as Molly gripped the canoe sides while cool air from the fresh mountain melts whipped the hair back from her face. Another paddle lay in the bottom of the boat, but she didn’t move to pick it up.

Romney paddled with the current. Dip. Pull. Lift. Dip. Pull. Lift. He didn’t speak, but his rhythmic breathing echoed over the plow of his oar shoving the waves behind them.

He kept one eye on the waterway stretching out in front of them and the other eye on Molly’s quiet presence in the canoe. Mud stained the hem of her skirt as it lay gathered at her feet. The fact that she didn’t appear concerned about the dirt on her clothes made him wonder if he had misjudged her. Most women would be in a tizzy over the damage to their skirts. Molly looked steadfast and determined.

as she inhaled a deep breath. The songs of afternoon birds filled the air, trees whipped by on the banks, and a crow screeched its distinct call to the others in his murder. Romney sent up a prayer to The Great Spirit that the call of the crow was a good sign and this would be a successful hunt. Romney stopped the steady drag of the paddle and held it in the water as they sailed along with the rapid flow.

“Do you need me to help?” she asked without turning around.

“We cannot afford to lose the paddle,” Romney answered stiffly.

“I can hold on to a canoe paddle, thank you. Perhaps as well as you.”

“It is not necessary. When the current slows, you can help.”

“How long before we reach Fort McIntosh?”

Romney did not answer. She repeated, “How long—”

“It depends on the way of the sipo.” He paused. “The speed of the river.”

As they neared the waters’ apex, multiple canoes and flatboats of all sizes came into view.

“Is that the Ohio?” she asked pointing up ahead. “It is,” Romney replied, his eyes steady on the crowded waterway ahead.

Several vessels crowded together and stretched across almost the entire width of the river from the east to the west bank.

“I didn’t realize how many people would be on the river today,” Molly said, picking up her paddle and dipping it into the water. Snow on the mountains had finally melted due to the spring thaw, and the river’s pace had intensified as a result. Anxious, eager settlers had waited for months for the ice on the river to break apart. They had lived out the winter on their dry-docked boats or in wagons, some in make-shift dwellings, praying for the cold to give way soon.

The first early morning crack of the frozen chunks was heard a little more than a week ago, and it stirred everyone into action. Romney noted one particular flatboat ahead that had a wagon lashed to the top of the cabin with a woman perched on the seat surveying the scene. She did not appear worried about the precariousness of her position.

“What if that woman on the wagon falls into the river?” Molly asked to no one in particular. “These aren’t the calmest waters I’ve ever seen.” She leaned her body forward then back in rhythm with the stroke of her paddle.

Romney struggled to keep his eyes on the congestion ahead and not on Molly’s tiny figure swaying in time with her oar.

Without warning, the current slowed, and Molly matched her strokes to the sounds of Romney’s paddle as it dipped and pulled on the other side. Together they created a single, unified motion propelling them evenly through the water, bringing them closer to the array of boats clustered at the point. However, they were still relatively close to the Pittsburgh side of the Allegheny River.

Romney reversed his paddling action to slow them down, but some other people didn’t seem to heed the dangers of so many boats in one small area. Romney struggled against the pull of the strong current to avoid running into the other boats, but they passed by as if it were a race.

Yelling, whistling, fiddle music, and a general cacophony filled the air as the excited pioneers mixed their voices with the river’s frantic, splashing water.

Molly held her paddle firmly below the waterline as Romney guided them forward toward a group of larger boats stalled in the water. How could the river be rushing past them and these boats be motionless? Soon the cause of the commotion made itself visible. Three flatboats had jammed against each other and were turned in dangerous opposition to the current. “We need to hold back,” Molly yelled over her shoulder.

Romney held his paddle firmly straight up and down in the water, but they headed for the melee in spite of his efforts.

Suddenly women screamed and men worked with increased, frantic speed to separate the connections while some attempted to keep them steady. Another boat floated up fast and slammed into one of the stalled vessels with a violent crash. Wood splintered in every direction, sending flailing people haphazardly into the cold water.

Boats, wagons, animals, goods, and people spilled into the river. Boxes and trunks smashed into some of the chunks of ice floating aimlessly on the surface. Livestock splashed into the water now rippling with violent waves. In no time, the chaos reached from one side of the river to the other.

Wave after wave of water folded back from the disaster, splashing against the sides of Romney and Molly’s canoe. Then a strong jolt from behind, as if they had been hit by another boat, tipped them into the erratic depths with everyone and everything else. As soon as he felt the bump, Romney dropped the oar and grabbed for Molly, catching her by the shoulders as they submerged.

In seconds, ice-cold blackness sucked on Romney’s body. He kicked his legs and erupted through the surface, Molly in his arms. Her heavy, wet skirts swirled around his legs, but he kicked harder, propelling them toward the riverbank. He held Molly tightly with one arm wrapped at her waist. Water sputtered from her mouth as she fought against the powerful pull of the deep waves with outstretched arms. Debris washed over them and slowed down their progress. He fanned his strong legs again and again until they were near the water’s edge.

Soon, they crawled up on the riverbank. Struggling for breath and pushing the hair out of their eyes, they sat on the sand and viewed the devastation. Their canoe had vanished, and rapid waves rippled in at their feet. People yelled and flapped their arms frantically while boxes and debris bobbed around them. Survivors hung desperately onto things floating in the river as they called for help.

“We…” Molly began, gasping for air, water dripping from her face. “How c-can we h-help them?” Romney focused on the chaos. The crying, screaming, and confusion sounded to him like the fighting he had known as a Delaware. The sense of panic stretching up and down the river forced old habits to rise in his consciousness. He calmed his mind and steadied his body with a deep breath. “Are you safe?” he asked.

Molly nodded. “Can you help them?”

He stood up and walked to the water as his eyes scanned the scene while deciding which direction to go. Romney stretched his arms out in front of his chest and dove back into the violent, swelling current.

BARBARA d EVLI n

Aproud Latina, USA Today bestselling, Amazon All-Star author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, Delaware that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite.

Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature not so perfect heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero before they find their happily ever after.