Monday, September 21, 2015

Finding My Thunder banner

Finding My Thunder

It’s young love. First love. It’s like thunder.


Danny moved closer and he pressed his lips against mine. It only lasted for a few seconds, but when he pulled back he smiled at me. “I want to keep going,” he said.
I grabbed onto him and pulled him forward and rolled onto my back. I was looking at him and him at me and we weren’t laughing at all now, just breathing.
“You know I’m leaving,” he said.
“You run away from me. You always have.”
He shook his head and his hands gripped my shoulders hard. “You’re my only reason to stay.”

Friday, September 4, 2015

My Wounded Soldier Book One Fight for Glory - new pictures!

A Tale. My Wounded Soldier, Book One: Fight for Glory

It’s a story about a man’s reluctant return to the fields of home after the Civil War.
Vintage photo of beautiful landscape with morning meadow. Sunrise over morning meadow in Poland
Men mustering out drifted across the country, some headed home, some were unable to settle.
One morning Tom worked the field when the neighbor boy came running. Trouble. Tom made haste to the neighbor’s farm and two dead bodies…a scarecrow man…she shot him–that woman Addie Varn. And her husband…killed. And she is ready to foal and there is only Tom and the big blue sky.
Sepia of father supporting the fist of sleeping baby.
And love comes into his hands.
The widow calls her Janey.
And so he’s going west…he can’t stay. He’ll help out for now.
But soon enough…duty calls….
Close up of the hands and torso of an authentic working cowboy in the American West riding to work in sunset light (sepia/brown tint).
The Glory Trail….
One more ride.
But it is hard to leave her…he walks those first ten miles. And then that horse that comes out of nowhere….
Silhouette of a grazing horse against sunrise through fog, an antique textured abstract image in muted sepia tone
Maybe it’s a sign…he’ll get back to her.
Addie Varn….
Close up of corset, sepia tone image ** Note: Slight graininess, best at smaller sizes
Oh, Addie Varn.
BOOK 1-a


Thursday, August 6, 2015

Review for My Wounded Soldier Book Two Fight for Love

My Wounded Soldier, by Diane Munier
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

“My Wounded Soldier Book Two Fight for Love” is the exciting conclusion of “My Wounded Soldier Book One Fight for Glory.”
Diane Munier writes in a vibrant and descriptive way so that the reader feels like they are right there in the middle of the love scenes, the action, and the pursuit of of danger.
After Tom has won over Addie and married her, he must now learn about the ins and outs of loving and raising his new family. With intense love and devotion from Addie by his side, Tom accepts certain new members into his family with reluctance, but before he knows it he is protecting and defending them to the death.
He has spent much of his life thinking he is not important, but then is surprisingly reassured that he is the family’s true leader and hero.
From reluctant son, to patriarch of the family, we see the emotional growth of Tom Tanner--his heart and his loyalty, and how he wins the Fight for Love.
This book is FIVE STARS in regards to the exciting story, colorful characters, and skillful writing.

View all my reviews

Saturday, August 1, 2015

My Wounded Soldier Book Two Fight for Love Tour Schedule

My Wounded Soldier Book Two Fight for Love
Tour Schedule

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Friday, July 31, 2015

My Wounded Soldier Book Two Fight for Love Blog Tour !

My Wounded Soldier - Book 2 : Fight for Love
by Diane Munier
Publication Date: August 7, 2015
Genre: Historical Western Romance
Cover Designer: Bookstylings


Tom Tanner has taken on a family. He lived through the war, but becoming a lover and pa to two small children may be the role that breaks him. This is the story of a man’s slow rise from black sheep to patriarch. 1866 is a time of learning to carry on in the aftermath of civil war. Tom is ready to heal, ready to take over Addie’s farm and make it a grand place. He has money from reupping in the war and reward money for bringing a few notorious outlaws. Can Addie’s love help him settle and become an outstanding man like his pa? It’s the only fight worth making-- a fight for love

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She told me of her mother then.  Greta.  She took in washing. And brought men home. And my wife, a slight girl scrubbing on the board.  That’s what I felt in her hands.  So sweetly shaped, so brined to the work.  A lady almost, but not in her marrow.  There, the laundry girl, the dirty laundry girl.  And the men.  Her learning to stand, given a knife by the neighbor woman. “Protect yourself,” the woman said. “No one else will.” And so she did, too young, too scared, too soon.  

Like Johnny.  He got took to the dark and it stabbed the tender in him and the dark came in.

I sat up and held her to me, stroking her hair while she told me.  I felt so many things with her, the fear, yes, the joy, yes.  The old wounds, yes.  The new wonder of it, yes.  The mother, and back more.  The girl, yes.  The little broken one, yes.  No man to ever rise up, and if he did, she met him with just herself and her brave eyes.  

“Lass,” I said, but only once.  I did not wish to let the pump run dry, for her words gifted me an understanding I had lacked.

I would be the pa to her sometimes.  I knew that now.  She wouldn’t want it much, but sometimes she would, almost like Johnny, me going back in her, me angry for her, saying what she knew and didn’t get a chance to rail about.  Letting her know I was here now.  I was here.

It was a part of it for us.  There was this little one in there still holding that knife, sometimes at me, yes that’s what I saw.  That knife she used and left in a man who tried to take her in an alley. That’s when she met him—her husband. She went in his store after the attack. He was kind. But God…he was weak.

But that’s how he got in.  He wiped her face, but he was no hero.  She made him feel, and then he couldn’t find it in himself to love her.  She was something he hadn’t seen…too alive…too much of everything.

“I am not him,” I told her, and oh I was not.  The dark had its hands around my throat time and time, but it did not finish me.  I was just a man, but I stood tall.  Like it or don’t, I did the hard thing.

“I am Tom Tanner, your man,” I said, “the good of him, the ugly, too.  But I am not Richard Varn.  I have my own sins, but I do not carry the sins of another.  Nor will I,” I said, not sure what I meant by this speech, but I said it with force.

Other Books in the Series

My Wounded Soldier - Book 1 : Fight For Glory
by Diane Munier
Publication Date: July 4, 2015
Genre: Historical Western Romance


Wounded Soldier, Book One: Fight for Glory, is my newest offering on Amazon. This is the saga of Tom Tanner and his reluctant love for Addie Varner.

After he mustered out of the Twenty-Seventh, Tom never expected to follow the boys home to Illinois. Having failed to protect his older brother Garrett, Tom planned to take his wounds out west where a man could get lost under the endless sky. But his father prevailed on him to come home and comfort his grieving mother.

Tom had nearly filled his obligation when the neighbor boy came running and calling his name as he worked in the field. Johnny was the boy that looked like his mother, Mrs. Varn. Tom had seen the woman at meeting. She rattled him some for he’d not had a woman, just that one time and he’d been liquored up and taking a dare and were he to have one, she was not hardship to look at. But Johnny was calling for him. Tom knew the sounds of war. The country was rife with veterans, some looking for trouble instead of home. What Tom finds at the Varner’s farm offers him a new kind of battle, a new kind of glory trail.

I have been writing this story for fifteen years. In its various forms it has garnered attention in literary contests and with a number of writerly folks. But stuck in ‘bridesmaid,’ mode it has never really walked the aisle. Until now. I hope you give it a spin and maybe fall in love.

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Meet Diane Munier

Living comfortably in the heart of America with the people I love. I live an extroverted life, but I'm a genuine introvert. An urban kid, I spent much of my youth running in various neighborhood establishments. There I met many colorful characters and I learned to love them and be fascinated by them. My love of story comes from them. I learned to sit on a bar stool or a kitchen chair or in a pew and hear story. Hear the voices telling story. See the mouths move and the hands clutching glasses or cigarettes. See and hear the laughter. There is no greater honor than to hear someone's story. If you feel that way about the tales I tell...what more could I ask.

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