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For Veterans Day: A Soldier’s Italian Christmas by Jina Bacarr

November 11, 2013 by in category Archives tagged as , , , , , , , , , , ,

UPDATE: A Soldier’s Italian Christmas is now for sale on Amazon.

On this Veterans Day, we honor those who have served in all wars. For that, we say thank you. As we approach the Christmas Holidays, I’ve often wondered what it was like during World War II for the boys so far from home. In A Soldier’s Italian Christmasthe first of the O’Casey Brothers in Arms series, we meet Captain Mack O’Casey, the oldest of four brothers from Brooklyn who join the fight.

It’s December 1943, one of the coldest winters on record, and the Allied advance to Rome is bogged down on a long stretch of road leading from Naples to the Eternal City.

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O’Casey Brothers in Arms
 
Captain Mack O’Casey and his sergeant have been separated from their unit after intense fighting in Central Italy. They find their way to a small village hit by shelling. Everyone has gone, or so they think…
 
Excerpt from Chapter One:
 
Italy
December 1943
 
Mack edged closer to the door, taking his time, knowing a barrage of bullets could be waiting for them on the other side, cracking their skulls open with sharpshooter precision. Or deadly explosive traps that could blow their legs off. 

He nodded to his sergeant to cover him. His heart pounded in his ears. It never got easy staring the enemy in the eye, but it didn’t do any damn good to stand out here waiting to be picked off like wild turkeys. He kicked the door open and did a clean sweep of the courtyard when a cold chill stopped him.

He froze. Someone had a gun aimed at his back. His instinct never failed.  

“Don’t move,” said a low, sultry voice in Italian. “I know how to use this.”  

For chrissakes, a female. 

“We mean you no harm,” Mack said in English, hoping to gain her confidence. She couldn’t see him in the dark. “We’re Americans, not Germans.” 

“American?” Her voice changed. “Oh, thank God,” she said in English. 

Mack turned around slowly and saw a young woman holding a gun on him. She bent down and turned up the wick on the lantern on the ground next to her and light flooded the small courtyard. He didn’t breathe until he was certain she wouldn’t shoot him. Dark, beautiful eyes sucked the fatigue right out of him. Flashing with a wildness that surprised him, she never flinched. Looking him over with intense scrutiny, she waved the lantern up and down his body. Over his boots, his uniform, the silver bars on his shoulders, and then his face. Her eyes locked with his, her lips parted. Full lips that rendered her face with an exotic aura held him transfixed. The girl was a beauty. Creamy complexion with a straight nose tipped at a perfect angle, expressive dark brows crossed in thought. She clenched her jaw, but her gaze never wavered. An absolute show of power on her part. It was clear she was relieved to see him, but she didn’t fully trust him.  

“I thought this village was deserted,” he said, taking a moment to return her scrutiny. Dressed in a man’s dark pants and heavy jacket, he noticed mud clinging to her boots and the knees of her pants with a torn cuff. A navy blue beret fit snugly over her head, hiding her hair. Curly wisps of silky brown hair escaped onto her cheeks making him wish he could smooth them back with his fingers. Kiss her cheek. “My sergeant and I have been walking for miles since the Nazis big guns cut us off from the main road.”   

Satisfied he was telling the truth, she said, “We’ve been holed up here praying the Allies would come.”
 
As she spoke, half a dozen little boys came from out of nowhere and crowded around her. Mack smiled. Round, cherub faces, black unruly hair. They reminded him of his brothers back home in Brooklynwhen they were kids. The oldest boy couldn’t have been more than ten, the youngest about three. What surprised him was how clean their hands and faces were. Most children he’d seen in Naples since landing near Salerno were dirty and barefoot. 

A familiar itch up crawled his backside. First, the shining cross in the sky. Now a beautiful woman with a brood of scrappy angels. What holy place had he stumbled into?  

“Are you alone?” he asked, wondering where her husband was. Most likely fighting in the North. Ever since the devastating Allied losses in Bari, most partisans had fled into the hills. By the looks of the destruction, the village had been under attack for weeks. 

“No, Sister Benedetto and I stayed behind to care for the children when the town was evacuated.” 

“You’re in danger. The Germans have fortified this whole area with armed defense. Barbed wire and mines.” 

“We are never truly alone, Captain. We have God to protect us.” 

“And now the U.S.Fifth Army, Signorina.” 

She lowered her chin, but her eyes looked directly at him. “I am called Sister Angelina.”
 
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A Soldier’s Italian Christmas (O’Casey Brothers in Arms 1) is the story of a soldier and a nun who discover forbidden love in war torn Italy during the winter of 1943.

It is a sweet romance 35,000+ word novella and is now available as an e-book on Amazon


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If your Christmas reading is on the spicier side (as in erotic), check out A Naughty Christmas Carol about a modern day Scrooge named Nick Radnor. A New York Wall Street hottie who has it all…except the woman he loves.


Can three sexy female ghosts save his soul on this naughty Christmas Eve?

Find out in A Naughty Christmas Carol.
Cover Design for A Soldier’s Italian Christmas and A Naughty Christmas Carol by Ramona Lockwood
 
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Happy 30th Birthday to…Harlequin Italy! by Jina Bacarr

May 11, 2011 by in category Archives tagged as , , , , , , , , , ,

Happy 30th Birthday to Harmony Italy (Harlequin) from Jina on Vimeo.

OCC RWA isn’t the only one turning the big 3-0 this year.

My Harlequin Italian publisher HARMONY is also turning 30!

I was very excited when my Italian editor, Alessandra Bazardi, asked me to record a special Happy 30th Birthday to Harmony to my Italian readers.

All of my Spice books have been translated into Italian, so this was really cool.

Here is my video! I hope you enjoy it.

Best,
Jina
(PS — the Italian titles follow the names of my novels:)

The Blonde Samurai “She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.” Bionda Samurai

Jina Bacarr is also the author of The Blonde Geisha Passioni di una Geisha

Cleopatra’s Perfume Il Profumo del peccato

Naughty Paris Trasgressione Scarlatta

Spies, Lies & Naked Thighs Bionda Vendetta

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What is a Novel? by Jina Bacarr

September 11, 2010 by in category Archives tagged as , , , , , , , , , ,

A novel is like my friend, Uccello.

Writing is a solitary profession and taking a break from sitting at my computer is important to me. I like to walk. Every day I walk through a park on my way to the beach, smelling the flowers, enjoying the shade of the trees and listening to the birds singing.

One bird in particular captured my attention. He doesn’t sing better than the others, he’s not prettier, and he doesn’t fly in a soaring pattern. But we’ve formed a bond, Uccello and me.

I call him “uccello” (bird in Italian) because he reminds me of the birds singing outside my hotel window in Venice. I fell in love with the magical city with all its sights and smells when I spent time in Italy speaking and performing about Body & Eros at La Biennale dance festival.

Watch a short clip of the view from my window in Venice, Italy.

Seeing Uccello every day takes me back to Venice and reminds me of the evocative perfume I inhaled there.

I learned to recognize Uccello from the other birds, little things about the charcoal grey bird that caught my eye. He has a little white belly that wiggles when he preens himself like a de’ Medici grand duke and his chirping is short and musical like breathy notes on a flute. He follows me through the park, flitting from one perch to another, poking his head around to see if I’m dallying.

I’ve gotten to know his idiosyncrasies, like how he chirps twice when he sees me, then how he likes to show me what path to take by flying in front of me. The park has many winding pathways and I look forward to seeing where he’ll lead me on my walk each day.

To me, a novel is like Uccello. Something about it attracts your eye–it could be the title or the cover–you get closer, open up the book and it takes you on a journey. As you follow its winding paths, you breathe in its uniqueness. That’s part of the fun for me. I like to inhale the scent of the story.

It’s not something you can smell in a physical way, but it evokes an odoriferous response in you that makes you aware of the scents the author has created in their world, whether it’s fragrant roses, the salty sea, cinnamon, oil, pine cones, or the smell of sex.

The next time you read a novel, think about what you smell. It may surprise you.

I’m off to see Uccello.

Want to come along? It’s easy.

Open a novel and join us.

Best,
Jina

The Blonde Samurai: “She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”

Jina Bacarr is also the author of The Blonde Geisha ,Cleopatra’s Perfume, Naughty Paris, Tokyo Rendezvous, a Spice Brief, and Spies, Lies & Naked Thighs
visit my website: http://www.jinabacarr.com/

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