Press Release Launch Kit
For
Owned by the Ocean
Christine Steendam
Genre: Fiction, Action,
Adventure, Historical, Romance, Sea Stories
Release Date: January 16, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-004-6 ISBN 10:1-63112-004-2
Purchase link : www.5princebooks.com/buy.html
Owned By the Ocean
Brant’s
life is planned for him. He will attend the best academic school in England,
run his father’s estate, and marry well. But, with the sea calling to him, and
a father that treats him more like a soldier to be commanded than a son, he takes
off to find his own destiny.
What Brant
doesn’t know, is that the sea is a cruel mistress, and once she owns you she
won’t let you go.
Christine started writing when she could put pen to paper
and form words. Now, many years later, not much has changed. Her stories are
romances that you can relate to with a little bit of adventure mixed in. She
enjoys writing flawed but loveable characters and more often than not a horse
or two will find their way in as well. Christine makes her home in Manitoba,
Canada on a sprawling 15 acre ranch with her sons, husband, and many animals.
Excerpt of Owned by the Ocean:
England- 1660
Brant looked up from his scribbler at his teacher who was
droning on about something to do with the politics behind the colonization of
the new world... or was it the precarious peace with Spain? Either way, he
didn’t really care. Time was moving at a snail’s pace. Every tick of the clock
sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil, the boy two rows down was scratching
his head. Brant was pretty sure he had lice. In front of him another boy was
drumming his fingers incessantly. Every noise and movement was grating and more
in focus than Mr. Johnson’s teaching.
Brant shut out everything around him and looked down at the
open page of his scribbler. He was supposed to be writing notes but instead the
page was covered with carelessly doodled shapes or words that had nothing to do
with what Mr. Johnson was teaching.
At sixteen, Brant Foxton had no interest in the politics,
grammar, or math that filled each and every day at the school for young men he
attended. All he wanted was to leave the masquerade called London society and
sail. He had expressed this desire many times over to his father, Sir Calvin Foxton, but he would hear
nothing of it.
Calvin Foxton had served his King faithfully for many years
in both the army and then as a member of his council. He had been knighted when
Brant was but five years old, a moment in history that he could remember being
filled with excitement and honor for his father. Too bad it didn’t take long
for Brant to realize that he was treated more like a soldier than a son.
This past year, after many attempts at convincing his father
to allow him to attend the royal naval academy, Brant had been sent to a
prestigious boarding school in the heart of London where he was to be polished
and educated for service to the crown as the gentleman his family name
required. There would be no sails, sword or pistols in Brant's future. Instead
it held paper work, money and bowing and scraping before the King. That was the
life of nobility in England and that was to be the life of Brant Foxton. That
was his father's plan.
Brant stopped his doodling and looked around. Some of the
boys were asleep, others intently taking notes and listening to the teacher.
Most of the boys at this school were everything their parents expected them to
be. The picture of young men of society, they walked and talked exactly as they
were instructed, turned their noses up at those less fortunate than them, and
flaunted money—that many didn’t have but their name allowed them to
pretend—like it was their job. They were raised to outwardly respect someone
like Brant due to his family's status but many whispered behind his back or snickered
over their afternoon tea. Brant was an anomaly, someone who didn’t care about
prestige, money, and would very willingly throw it all away for a chance at a
different future.
Brant was not an overly kind boy, nor humble. He hated his
father and family name, he hated the school and the teachers, he hated the boys
who hid behind masks their parents had forced on them, and most of all he hated
that he was considered to be among them. He was better than this and he knew
it. He was better than the acting and the back stabbing that he saw among the
boys.
London was full of hypocrites. Brant may be blatantly
cavalier and didn’t give a damn, but the boys he went to school with
participated in the same activities, but behind well-kept facades. No one but
themselves and perhaps their closest friends knew about the things they did
that their family would disapprove of. But they all did them. Brant had seen
the older boys get drunk and steal things from the younger ones. He had seen,
and been a victim of, their bullying behind closed doors. But they all hid it
from the outside world, from prying eyes. To the public, to the teachers, they
were everything young gentlemen should be. Everyone but Brant Foxton.
The class was dismissed and Brant left the room in a shuffle
of feet and a murmur of voices. Politics had been the last class of the day and
they now had the evening for free time until dinner was called. Brant went up
to his room that he shared with two other boys and, lying on his bed, pulled
out a military strategy book he had taken from the library. There was no
military strategy class offered since the boys that went here didn't need to
know about battle formations and military hierarchy. But, the library carried
books on the subject and Brant spent his free time educating himself on
everything he would need to know to join the navy. He hoped that with the
knowledge he gained from reading he would be able to make his way through the
ranks quickly and become an officer in short order. Of course his father would
not even consider forgiving him until he made Captain, then perhaps he could
consider Brant was upholding the family name in an honorable fashion. But,
until he was prepared, he would remain in school and learn what he could, then
take his leave and endure his father's disapproval.
Things had changed when Brant's mother passed away six years
earlier. Calvin had become hard on his son, without his gentle wife to keep him
in line. Brant's brother; James, who was now six, was mostly taken care of by a
nurse and the maids. Calvin Foxton didn't have much time for his youngest son,
not when he was reminded of his wife, who had died giving birth to him, every
time he saw him. Brant guessed that his mother was the only person Calvin
Foxton had ever been gentle with. He had been young when his mother passed,
only ten, but from what he remembered she was a kind woman, and had truly loved
her husband, which was not something he saw often among other couples.
It had been an arranged marriage, as many of them were, and
Suzanne had been ten years Calvin's junior. However, they had fallen in love
during their years together, and Brant was certain his father would have given
Suzanne Foxton anything she wanted. If she gave him even a disapproving look
when Calvin adopted his military background with his son he would immediately
melt and become a loving and kind father. That had disappeared when Suzanne
passed away. Suddenly there was only military discipline and his father was
detached from him in every way. No longer did Brant have loving parents but
instead he had a commander and he was nothing more than a delinquent soldier.
It had been a drastic change that had embittered Brant towards his father. He
was convinced that if his mother was alive he would have been allowed to join
the Royal Navy. She had always wanted what was best for Brant and what would
make him happy in the long run. Calvin would have nothing to do with that now.
The military was not the place for his son, especially the sea. There was
nothing glamorous about being an officer, Captain, or Commodore. They were
respected if they served the King well and had some kind of military genius
that brought them to his attention but otherwise they were just another civil
servant making low pay and risking their lives for honor that Brant shouldn't
have to earn any longer. He was born with it.
Leo, one of his roommates walked in, took one look at Brant
and laughed. “All you ever do is study those useless books. That won't help you
at all with your marks here.”
“I don't really care about my marks here.”
“You should. Your father is going to beat you if you fail.”
Brant laughed. “He can try. I'm getting a bit old for him to
slap around.”
Leo was two years Brant's senior and had two years left in
the school. He was looking to take over his father's business in Jamaica where
he owned a sugar cane plantation.
Out of all the boys in school, Leo was probably the only one
Brant considered a friend. In society Leo was what every young man should be,
but in his circle of friends he was better known as a womanizer and a gambler.
When his father sent him money, Leo made his way to a local brothel where he
spent time with Claire, a pretty little blonde that had been used one too many
times and had a sad look behind her eyes. He was kind to her though, and when
he went out with the guys he would invite her along. Although her company was
paid for, she was accepted among them as a friend. One couldn’t help the
circumstances life had dealt someone.
When the money didn't come Leo would pull out his charm and
woo a pretty second or third class girl that dreamed of a man like Leo coming
along and marrying her, turning her into a real lady. It was never going to
happen though. And every time, it was the same, hopeful laughter turning into
disappointed tears. It bothered Brant that Leo could be so self-absorbed, yet
he considered himself fortunate to be his friend.
Leo was kind enough to most of the boys, but he enjoyed
putting some of the more pompous pricks in their place. When Brant had started
out his year Leo had considered Brant just one of those; a pompous prick who
curtailed off his daddy and thought himself better than everyone else. But, for
the most part, Leo was humble and kind. He never considered other boys
inferior, even if society deemed them so, and always treated everyone with
respect. Even outside of society he seemed to ignore the boundaries and
distinction and class and mingled without prejudice. That was what Brant liked
about Leo. And for that, he overlooked his friend’s less than upstanding
behavior.
Leo and Brant were not so fortunate as to have the third boy
who shared their room follow their life philosophies. Robert was a second year
student, right between Brant and Leo. He was self-important and had delusions
of grandeur. His family was on the verge of losing everything, and everyone
knew it. Yet, they held onto their expensive taste, threw just as many dinner
parties as before, and turned up their noses at anyone they considered beneath
them. They sent Robert to school on their good name and credit, but he strutted
the halls as if his father was the King himself and treated the younger boys
with such disdain that you would have thought them his servants. He never said
a word to Brant or Leo after he discovered they had no interest in playing
along. Instead, they took every opportunity to take him down a notch. A biting
comment or a prank usually managed to put him in his place for a short time.
“Are you going home for Christmas?” asked Brant, looking up
from his book.
Leo too had lay down on his bed and was studying his
arithmetic. He looked over at Brant. “Of course. I believe my father is coming
to get me next week. Are you?”
“I suppose. My father hasn't visited me except that one time
I got in trouble for pouring ink down Robert's jacket.”
Leo chuckled, presumably at the memory of Robert’s face
turning a plum shade of purple from anger and embarrassment. “He's a tough one
but I'm sure he only wants what's best for you.”
Brant scoffed, “What's best for me? Perhaps, but he has a
very narrow view of what's best.”
Leo put down his book and sat up. “I like you, Brant, but I
also think you're in serious need of an attitude adjustment. You father has
worked very hard to get where he is now and you don’t appreciate what he has
given you. He doesn't want his life for you. The navy is not easy and often
ends in tragedy. Take the easy way. Your father worked hard so you would have
the best things in life.”
“It's not about status and courts and money to me. I don't
want to be stuck in a life where everyone plays a role and wears a mask. I want
adventure and freedom.”
“Then you are naive. You think adventure is glamorous? If so
I think you will find yourself disappointed. This life isn't so bad. I have fun
still.”
“But your parents, anyone outside of your circle of friends
has no idea what you're truly like.”
“That's not true. I still act like myself; I just choose to
practice discretion in revealing some of my less than appropriate habits.
Speaking of which, my father sent some money again. Would you like to go play
some cards?”
Brant looked back at his book for a moment then sighed, “Why
not? It's that or stay here reading.”
Leo laughed. “That's the spirit. Come on let’s dig into your
trust fund a little and make use of some of your father's hard earned money.”
