Amy Hardwick has one last Season to shake off her wallflower image and make a love match. If she can’t, she’ll set aside her dreams of romance and return home to a suitor who can provide security-if little else. What she doesn’t count on is the inappropriate-and irresistible-attention lavished on her in a darkened library by rake extraordinaire Will “The Devil” Darcett . . .
DEVILISH DELIGHT
When Will is caught in a tryst with the ton’s shyest miss, he knows he must offer for her hand. Yet Amy is not the shrinking violet she seems to be. Passion lies beneath her prim exterior and Will is eager to release it. But winning Amy isn’t simply a matter of seduction; first, Will must convince her that he’s mended his wicked ways . . .
EXCERPT:
CAUGHT!
Pots banged and laughter rang out from the kitchen. Then a voice sounded close to the kitchen door. Amy’s heartbeat drummed in her ears. Realizing that someone might come out and find her, Amy turned left and tried the door to the wine cellar. It was open. She stepped inside, closed the door, and released a relieved breath. It was rather cool, but at least she was safe from prying eyes.
Footsteps clipped on the floor.
She flattened her back against the cold wall. Her legs trembled. She squinted in the darkness. Should she make a mad dash for the door? Or should she wait to see if the other person would leave? She inched along the wall, and then a candle flame wavered.
The footsteps clipped closer and closer. Her heart pounded. Please, please, please leave.
“Who goes there?”
The voice startled her. No, it couldn’t be. She must be having a nightmare. But she knew that voice all too well. Drat it all. What was the devil doing here?
He drew closer. In the dark cellar, the single candle cast flickering shadows over his face. “Miss Hardwick, did you follow me?”
“I did not,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Admiring Boswood’s excellent wine collection,” he said. “I saw the butler accidentally leave the door open and came to investigate. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Leave me be.” She sniffed.
“Are you weeping?”
“N-no.” Her face burned. Of all the people to witness her cry, it would have to be him. The devil. The man who had tried to trick her into going in a dark room alone.
She heard the whisper of cloth, and then he handed her a handkerchief. “Dry your eyes.”
Amy blotted her face and handed it back to him.
“I’ll find another candle; those stairs are dark. Don’t move,” he said.
The minute he stepped away, she turned round to escape, but she bumped her hip into a stack of crates and hissed in her breath. He came to her side in a few long strides. “You’re injured.”
“It’s only a bruise,” she said. In truth, it hurt. She knew her hip would be purple and tender for some time. Lizzy would see it when she helped her undress tonight.
“There’s a candle branch, but you’ll arouse suspicion if you carry that. Stay still until I can locate a second candle,” he said. “You don’t want to fall and hurt yourself. You’ll have difficulty trying to explain how it happened.
Of course it was the sensible thing to do. She worried her hands, wishing he would hurry with that candle. His features were indistinct in the darkness, but she could make out his movements as he walked about. She had no idea how much time passed, but she grew increasingly anxious.
“Found it,” he said.
Thank goodness. She meant to leave as soon as he lit the candle.
He used the flame from the first candle to light the second one. .
As he moved around, she saw bottles nestled in diamond-shaped cabinets. There was a long table just beneath. There were more bottles than she’d ever glimpsed in all her life. Lord Boswood’s collection must add up to a tidy fortune.
Mr. Darcett walked toward her. “I’ll escort you to the door. You go upstairs first. I’ll wait for a few minutes before following.”
She nodded.
When he offered his escort, she took it. The faint scent of sandalwood soap clung to him. Her mouth dried as they neared the door. All she wanted was to escape unobserved. Hopefully, the redness had left her nose and cheeks by now. As they neared the door, footsteps clipped on the other side.
Her heart stampeded. She held her breath, terrified they would be discovered
Mr. Darcett beckoned her and turned round. He led her farther back into the cellar where they hid behind the stack of crates and blew out the candles. Her nerves jangled. Mr. Darcett was so close, she could hear his breathing. Please, please, please don’t let anyone discover us.
A key scraped inside the lock and turned over.
Amy covered her mouth.
The footsteps retreated.
“Bloody hell,” the devil muttered. “We’re locked in.”
BOOK BLURB: The dazzling wedding of fashions of A Lady’s Favor dress shop are guaranteed to make any girl the talk of the ton. But the brides aren’t the only ones falling in love….
Lady Helaine’s father was cast out of society as a liar and a thief—a scandal which renders her unfit for marriage. In order to provide for herself and her mother, she adopts an assumed name and runs a dressmaker’s shop that specializes in bridal wear for ladies of high society. Helaine is happiest immersed in silk and satin, but she lives in terror that someone will learn her true identity and she will lose everything…again.
Robert Percy, Viscount Redhill, is entranced with the mysterious Helaine and weaves a web of seduction sure to ensnare the delectable dress designer. Yet too late he learns the heartbreaking truth about who she used to be. Now he must find a way to overcome the past to claim Helaine as his own. But what chance has love when a secret mistress becomes a scandalous wife?
EXCERPT:
Robert Percy, Viscount Redhill, already had the bottle of brandy in hand when there was yet another knock on the library door. It was barely three in the afternoon, but after a morning such as today, brandy was the only choice to combat the headache growing behind his right eye.
“My lord?” asked Dribbs as he pushed open the library door unbidden.
“No, Dribbs,” Robert said quite firmly.
“Well, yes, my lord. There is a visitor.”
“No, Dribbs, there is not.”
“But she is most insistent.”
“No, Dribbs, she is not. Because there is not a visitor to see me.” To further make the point, he dispensed with the swirling and airing of the alcohol and took a healthy swig straight from the bottle. It was almost gone anyway.
“Well, yes, my lord, there is.”
“No, Dribbs, there cannot be. My father has already been here today, so he cannot have purchased another mine or an interest in a gold venture in Antarctica or discovered the secret to stuffing genies into bottles to grant his every whim.”
“No, sir, it is not the earl.”
Robert exhaled in relief. “Thank God—”
“It is a woman.”
“No, Dribbs, it most certainly cannot be a woman. Because, you see, I have already spoken with Gwen about her upcoming nuptials just this morning. My mother is in bed where she always is at this hour. And as for all those future in-law women who have let the house next door, I have just this moment escaped from the upstairs salon where the baroness and her sister were rearranging Mama’s figurines. They were arguing about whether sunlight was bad for a porcelain shepherdess. Porcelain, Dribbs. Why would anyone ever be concerned about a porcelain complexion? Especially since the damned thing has a bonnet!”
Robert forced himself to take another swig of brandy. When had his life become so dashed ridiculous?
“Very true, my lord. Most odd. But the woman who wishes to see you is not destined to be your relation.”
“Thank heaven.” He dropped down behind his desk, pushed aside the mountain of papers to set the bottle down, then looked up in confusion when Dribbs had still not disappeared. “You can go now.”
“Well, no, sir, I cannot.”
“Of course you can. Just step backward and shut the door.”
“Well, yes, I could do that, my lord, but if I were to do such a thing, you would damn me for it in a day’s time. Perhaps even sooner.”
“Perhaps. But at least you wouldn’t be damned right now.”
“Excellent point, my lord. But you see, the lady in question is a Mrs. Mortimer. And she has a trifling matter for you to deal with.”
Robert snorted. In his opinion, all female matters were trifling. But that didn’t stop them from plaguing him with their nonsense day and night. Still, something about the name tickled the back of his brain. He knew that name, but from where?
“She is the dressmaker for your sister’s wedding,” supplied the butler.
Ah! There it was! Gwen had been waxing eloquent on the lady’s dressmaking skill just this morning. The woman had done this and that, tucked something in or let something out. And then Gwen had blushed a deep pink. That was what stuck in Robert’s mind: that his sister had blushed a deep, embarrassed pink. Because the dress made her look more attractive. In a sexual kind of way. And dashed if that was something he absolutely did not want to know about his sister.
He took another swig from the brandy bottle, only to discover that it was empty.
“I shall find you another bottle directly, my lord.”
“Good man.”
“But first you must speak with Mrs. Mortimer.”
“No, Dribbs. I must not.”
“But if you don’t, she will inevitably tell your sister that she was denied your presence. And then your sister will commence quietly sobbing in her bedroom because this wedding is already more than she expected and you will of course hear her or notice her red eyes. And then you will find out the reason for her tears and be furious with yourself for being such a callous brother. And then, my lord, you will instruct me most specifically to not allow you to say no to visitors anymore.”
“I would never say such a thing!” he said indignantly.
“You did say such a thing just last week when your mother was distraught over a lost delivery of perfumes.”
“I most certainly . . .” His voice trailed away. Damnation. He most certainly had. “Bloody hell.”
“It is a trifling matter, my lord. Best deal with it now and be done. Then no more tears, and you can have your brandy straight away after it is finished.”
Robert released a heavy sigh. “Damnation, Dribbs, I don’t know whether to sack you or double your pay.”
“Double my pay, sir. Indeed I believe you promised me that last week.”
“I most certainly did not! That I would remember.”
Dribbs paused a rather telling moment. Then he tilted his head. “Are you sure, my lord? Are you absolutely sure you would remember?”
“Yes. I most certainly am.”
Dribbs released a dramatic sigh. “Yes, I am afraid you would.” Then the man straightened to his full height, stepped backward into the hallway, and pulled the library door wide. “Mrs. Mortimer to see you, my lord. She will not take more than ten minutes of your time.”
That last was added with a stern look to the lady in question. The lady of course nodded sweetly in acknowledgment, but Robert saw the martial gleam in her eyes. He also saw her full cleavage, her sweetly rounded hips, and the dark red lips of a woman who obviously wanted to be kissed.
Good Lord, what had he just been thinking? She was a dressmaker, for God’s sake. Who would want to kiss a dressmaker? That would be like fondling the bootblack. True, it was often done, but not by him! And yet here he was thinking of just where he would fondle her.
“My lord?”
Robert came back to himself with a start. “I beg your pardon?”
“No, I beg your pardon,” she said. “You sounded as if you were choking.”
“No. No. Just . . . um . . . mourning the loss of the brandy. Empty bottle, you know.” He lifted the bottle and shook it about as proof. Then he sheepishly set it back down again. Really, what was he doing? One did not discuss empty brandy bottles with servants. Unless it was the servant’s job, which it was definitely not for her. Damnation, he was addled! “I believe you wanted something?”
“Yes, my lord. I am afraid I require payment.”
“You’re afraid of payment? Well, if that’s a problem for you, you needn’t bother visiting.”
She paused a moment, her brows lifting in surprise. Then a glimmer of a smile skated across her lips. “Er, no, my lord. I apologize deeply. I misspoke. I have no fear at all in me, and thus I am here at your door asking for payment. Now, if you please.”
He sighed. Dribbs was right. Best to be done with it. The thing was, what with his father’s recent investment whims and his sister’s trousseau, he was rather tight on ready cash. The repairs and like at the mine alone had depleted the earldom to the point where they all must economize. Add in a bride’s trousseau, and he had no idea where the funds would come from.
“Really, Mrs. Mortimer, there is a process for this. I have a man who brings the bills directly to me. You need not come visiting—”
“I have already spoken to Mr. Starkweather. He said I should speak directly to you.”
He frowned. “The devil you say. Can’t imagine Starkweather doing such a thing. He is usually most officious about his place. Likes to keep the riffraff away from me, he says. Good man, that Starkweather.” Robert smiled at the empty brandy bottle and wondered when ten minutes would expire. Soon, he hoped. Though he did like the view of Mrs. Mortimer’s bosom, especially when seen through the exaggerating distortion of his empty brandy glass.
Then he had cause to look up from this glass. Was the woman blushing? Enough that her cleavage had turned a rosy pink? Why, she most certainly was! Extraordinary. Especially since with her figure she must be used to being ogled, and not just through a brandy glass.
He frowned. Obviously, he was missing something significant, but for the life of him he couldn’t quite grasp what. He set his glass down, pulled in his feet so that he sat straight in his chair despite the way that made his temple throb, and forced himself to be serious.
“I have had a most trying morning, Mrs. Mortimer. Please tell me why I should talk with you and not with Mr. Starkweather?”
“Because I am not riffraff, my lord, and never have been.” Her voice was clipped and cold despite the blush that still pinked her skin.
He blinked. Had he said that? Oh, yes, he supposed he had implied it at the very least. And yet, some devil in him could not resist tweaking her.
“Ah, well, you certainly don’t appear to be riffraff, Mrs. Mortimer, but you are a bill collector attempting to circumvent my man Starkweather. At a minimum, that suggests you are Riff, if not exactly Raff.”
Far from deepening her blush, it actually caused her color to cool and her eyebrows to arch. “I can see you have a love of the ridiculous, my lord.”
“Well, I certainly love my family, and if that is not a love of the ridiculous, then I don’t know what is.”
She had no answer to that. Good thing, because he really ought not to say this sort of thing to a stranger, servant or not.
He relaxed backward in his seat, trying to decide exactly what he should do with the lady. Any other day, he would have already paid her just to be rid of her. But he found himself smiling at her in an absent sort of way. She was lovely to look at, and she sat there all prim while he spouted all manner of nonsense. It was really quite fun. Until she spoke, her voice low, her manner almost soothing unless one actually listened to her words.
“Do you know how humiliating it is to come begging for honest payment, my lord? To stand hat in hand before some clerk on a high stool who curls his lip at one merely because one’s birth is not as exalted as yours?”
He blinked, startled by what she said. “Starkweather does not sit on a high stool.” Then he frowned. That was not at all what he meant. As far as he knew, Starkweather was a fair and honest man, but of course, he did not know that for certain. Neither did he know if the man ever curled his lip at honest tradesmen. All he knew was that the man sat at a desk like a normal person. And so that was what blathered out of his mouth.
Naturally, she took his statement as the stupidity it was. “I was speaking metaphorically, my lord.”
“Were you?” he wondered aloud. “Nevertheless, it’s not quite the thing to accuse a man of being high in the instep if he was not actually on a high stool. Makes me wonder if you were speaking of Starkweather at all.”
Ah, he had her there! He could tell by the way her gaze canted aside and the color in her bosom flushed again. Most beautiful, he decided. And rather distracting. Thankfully, he was spared more of this odd discussion by a firm knock on the door. He didn’t even need to say a word because he knew who it was. Ten minutes was up and Dribbs was pushing open the door.
“My apologies for the interruption, my lord,” said Dribbs with a faint smile. “But your next visitor has arrived.” He lifted the bottle of brandy into the air.
“Excellent,” Robert said with a grin. “I am sorry, Mrs. Mortimer, but I am afraid I leave all matters of bill payment to Mr. Starkweather.”
The lady pushed to her feet, but not to leave the room. Instead, she stepped forward to confront him across his desk. “No, my lord, you shall not. Do you think I cannot see the bottle of brandy in his hand?”
Robert raised his eyebrows in surprise. Her back was to the door, so how could she see anything that was in Dribbs’s hand?
She snorted. “The reflection, my lord.” She waved airily at the polished black marble of his fireplace. From her angle, it would provide the perfect reflection of Dribbs.
“Ah. Most clever of you.”
“I am not clever, my lord. Just stubborn. It will take the work of a moment for you to write me a bank draft. I insist you do so. Unless you wish it to be known that the Viscount Redhill does not pay his debts.”
Now that was a serious allegation. “You would not say such a thing, Mrs. Mortimer, because I would have you ruined in a heartbeat. I pay my bills.”
“Then pay this one.” She stepped forward and slapped a paper down on his desk. It was a bill, neatly itemized and tabulated in a fair hand.
He picked it up with a frown, perusing the list to the best of his ability. It was his sister’s trousseau, he supposed. Dresses, ribbons, underclothing, and the like. He even doubled-checked the math on the list and found it to be accurate. But such a total! The sum was exorbitant!
“This cannot be right,” he murmured.
“I assure you it is. Would you care to summon your sister to verify it?”
God, no. He had no wish to engage Gwen in yet another discussion of clothing. And from the look of triumph in her eyes, she knew it. What was more, she chose that moment to shift into a beautiful smile. It was warm and winning, and it transformed her face from merely lovely to one of sweet seduction.
“Come now, my lord. Merely write the draft and then I shall personally pour you that glass of brandy. Mr. Dribbs’s arm must be getting very tired holding that heavy bottle aloft.”
My God, what a potent woman! He was already reaching for his bank book when reason grabbed hold of him and stopped his hand. Something was very wrong about this situation. As far as he knew, Starkweather would never refuse an honest bill. And this woman was using all her wiles to get him to pay an exorbitant tab.
He looked back at the paper, his mind searching for the elusive clue. What was it he was missing? What . . .
“My lord?” Her voice was a distraction, a low siren song of seduction. “Your brandy awaits.”
“Describe to me this dress,” he said by way of stalling. “What does it look like?” He pointed at random to the most expensive single item on the list. A ball gown with pearl buttons.
She frowned. “Truly, my lord? Why ever would you wish to—”
“Humor me,” he said as he folded his arms across his chest. Then, to save poor Dribbs, whose arm did appear to be shaking most dreadfully, he motioned to the sideboard. “Set it there, Dribbs. I find that Mrs. Mortimer and I have a bit more to discuss.”
Dribbs did as he was told. And while the butler was setting the bottle far out of reach, Robert turned his attention back to the woman across from him.
“Do you know anything of my father, Mrs. Mortimer?” he asked.
The woman shook her head and a tendril of honey fine hair slipped from her chignon to dance about her pert chin. Adorable, he thought.
“I am not acquainted with the Earl of Willington,” she said.
“Well, he is a charming fellow. Loves a good bit of brandy, a cigar, and his friends. Some say I resemble him in looks.” He gestured to his hair. “Brown hair, broad forehead, and we are nearly the same height.”
She nodded, obviously confused by his wandering thoughts. “Then your father must be a handsome man.”
He took the compliment as his due. Many thought his entire family had been inappropriately blessed in their looks. “Yes, well, there is something else about my father that everyone knows.” He waited a moment for her to ask the obvious question. She did so with a touch of irritation.
“I am simply breathless with wonder, my lord. What could it be that everyone knows?”
“That my father is the greatest gull on earth. Yes, truly, the man could be snookered by a mentally deficient bootblack. In fact, I believe he was, just last year. Bought some magic blacking cloth, I believe. Thought he’d make a fortune with it.”
A spark of interest did indeed light in Mrs. Mortimer’s eyes. “Magic blacking cloth?”
“Yes. I believe it was cheesecloth soaked in the boy’s spit.”
She gasped. “You cannot be serious!”
“I most certainly am. My father bought it for a shilling.” Then he sighed. “To be fair, the boy had been chewing tobacco and so the cloth was rather thick and black. It did look like a blacking cloth.”
She laughed. Not a full laugh. Indeed, because she suppressed it, it sounded more like a horse’s snort than a lady’s laugh.
“That story cannot be true.”
“I assure you it is.”
Then she tilted her head while her eyes danced in merriment. “I cry foul, my lord. I believe you are lying to me. And I believe I shall prove it to you.”
“Really? Pray, how?”
“I shall make a wager with you, my lord. If I can prove that you are lying, then you will pay my bill. If not, then I shall leave without further ado.”
He wasn’t so sure he wanted her to leave just yet, but he was a gentleman and so he nodded. “Very well. If the bill is honest, then you shall be paid immediately.”
She nodded slowly, obviously taking that as the best bargain she could make. “Very well, my lord. You say the story is true, that it happened exactly as you said.”
“I do.”
“Well, then, I submit to you that either the bootblack was not mentally deficient in that he gulled an earl. Or that the earl was aware of the true nature of the magic cloth and was merely being kind to a handicapped boy.”
Robert frowned, wondering which could be true. Given that his father had been quite proud of his purchase, he thought it more likely that the bootblack was not nearly as deficient as he claimed. Nor, he supposed, did the boy have an ailing mother and four younger siblings to feed. Thankfully, he did not oversee his father’s staff, as the man lived in rooms at his club. So long as the earl kept within his quarterly allowance, Robert didn’t care if he purchased a dozen magic blacking cloths.
“Have I won our bargain, my lord?”
He smiled. “Yes, I suppose you have.”
“Excellent,” she said with a grin. “Then if you would—”
“I said if the bill was honest, Mrs. Mortimer. You have yet to describe this ball gown to me. Unless, of course, there is some reason why you would not.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I will describe it.”
He smiled and shot her own words right back. “I am simply breathless with wonder.”
She grimaced, her nose wrinkling in a delightful manner. “It is blue, my lord, with Belgium lace crisscrossed over the bodice. Shoulders bare, as she will be a married woman by then and can reveal a great deal more than before, and with a shawl of gauze such as will preserve her modesty if she wants or that can be draped in a variety of tantalizing poses should she not.”
He blinked. My God, did she think he wished to know of his sister in tantalizing poses? “You are speaking of my baby sister,” he said in irritation. “The one who wore pigtails and sported ink stains on her nose.”
“No, my lord,” she said gently. “I am speaking of your fully grown sister who will be a married woman within a month. And quite possibly increasing soon after that.”
He shuddered at that. His baby sister with a babe of her own. He knew it was possible. Probable, even. That is what married women did, was it not? But in his mind, she was still so young.
“It is the way of young girls, you know. They grow up and start families of their own.” Then Mrs. Mortimer did something wholly unexpected. She rose in a single lithe movement and crossed to the brandy snifter. Then she poured him a glass, swirling it for him just as it ought to be done, and brought it to him. But she didn’t just cross to his side, she set it in his hand, then sank to the floor before him. She looked up at him just as his sister had once done, back when she was still a hoyden running wild throughout the house. And Mrs. Mortimer smiled up at him in exactly the same way.
“Change is hard, especially when it is inevitable. But you should be proud of the woman she has become, my lord. Not fighting the purchase of her trousseau.”
He swallowed. She was right. And when she sat like that before him, he could deny her nothing. Except for one thing.
“Mrs. Mortimer,” he said as he reached out and stroked her cheek just as he had done with Gwen so many years ago. “I cry foul.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Gwen does not have a ball gown such as you describe. It has not been made and you and your bill are false.” She made to leap to her feet, but he was faster than she. Within a second, he had clamped a hand down on her arm, preventing her escape. “Oh, do remain right where you are, Mrs. Mortimer. It will no doubt take a few moments for the constable to arrive.”
I became a huge fan of Jade Lee after I read ‘The Dragon Earl’ and ‘Devil’s Bargain’. If you’ve never read her stories, you’re missing on some fun reads!
*One lucky Commenter will end up with a copy of this book! Today’s Giveaway is INTERNATIONAL!
Won’t you join our celebration by:
1) Telling us which ‘Book’ would you like to ‘Push’ and why…
Kristal: Hello Kate! Thank you for visiting with us on our blog! We are so excited to have you here with us!
Kate Noble: Thank you for having me!
K: Can you tell us a little bit about yourself? Maybe give us a little back ground into your decision to become a writer? Maybe tell us a childhood dream or two that helped you see out your dreams?
KN: I have always been in love with a good story. When I was a kid I would devour books, movies, television, plays. My dream job as a child was to become a Disney animator. I ended up going to school to study filmmaking, and but I found I gravitated to writing the scripts, as opposed to being behind the camera. Thus a love of writing was borne. It’s a little round about, in terms of becoming a novelist, but I got there eventually.
K: I see that you mainly write historical romance. And I literally gobble up the historicals, they fascinate me. I’m not sure that I could ever have the creative ability to tell a 300 page story about my fascination, but you do it so well! How did you come to love that era? Does it take a lot of research to see your stories come to life?
KN: When I started reading romance novels as a teen, I gobbled up historicals, in particular Amanda Quick. And when I read Pride and Prejudice, my conversion to a historical lover was complete. So, it was natural that when I started writing novels, they would be in this genre I adored.
One of the reasons I love the Regency is the rules of the era. Dancing with someone told the world you were interested in them, the way a lady held her fan could tell you whether or not she liked you. And taking a lady’s hand was tantamount to an engagement. Nobody did wanting like the Regency did.
Yes, research is a huge part of the job – after all, research is what creates the place and time the story lives in, and gives it its atmosphere. But you can’t let yourself get swallowed by it. When it comes down to it, I’m writing about people, and their relationships.
K: Any favorite movies or books or even music that inspires your work? I know that I need complete silence to even open a book, but I’m sure there is quite the process to get the juices flowing when writing an entire novel!
KN: Yes, there are movies and music that inspire my work, but it varies with every book. For instance, I consider If I Fall to have been heavily influenced by the Indiana Jones films and by The Princess Bride. But my previous novels had their own influences.
As for music, I will usually create a playlist of songs that speak to the plot, the characters, an emotion or any particular scene in the story. And I’ll listen to that playlist over and over again. It can be modern music – I’ve put Coldplay and Linkin Park on If I Fall’s playlist – or it can be music from the Regency Era. For instance, in the book I’m currently working on, Beethoven’s No. 23 piano sonata plays a prominent role – thus, I listen to it almost daily.
K: Have you done any traveling lately? We’d love to hear about any book tours or just leisurely vacations you’d like to tell us about?
KN: The most recent traveling I did was to Peru. My boyfriend and I went to Machu Picchu, and it was a truly wonderful, beautiful trip – in fact, I think I’m going to have to write a Peruvian hero in one of my books!
K: What is next for you? Can you tell us about your new book If I Fall that released in April??
KN: I’m so pleased with fans’ reactions to If I Fall! Everyone who read Follow My Lead wanted Sarah Forrester to get a story of her own – she was rather cruelly hurt when we last saw her, having her heart broken by the duke she was supposed to marry. Now, to survive socially, and to protect her vulnerable heart, she has transformed herself into the Golden Lady – the most sought after young woman of the ton, the light of every party. The only person who can see through this shiny, brittle façade is Sarah’s childhood friend Lieutenant Jackson Fletcher, who has recently returned to London from years at sea.
Jack will do anything to bring back the happy, kind Sarah he once knew – even something as ridiculous as dressing up as her childhood hero, the anonymous British spy the Blue Raven – to wake up the real Sarah. Unfortunately, the real Blue Raven doesn’t find Jack’s disguise nearly as clever. But he does need his help in finding a killer, one that might just target Sarah next.
I also have a special e-novella out now too! It’s called The Dress of the Season, and it’s such a happy little story, about second chances and seeing someone with new eyes. Harris Dane, Viscount Osterley, orders a very fine and scandalously cut dress to be made for a certain lady he wishes to woo. While with the dress designer, he also orders a pair of gloves to be sent to his ward, Miss Felicity Grove, to wish her well for the new Season. But when Felicity accidentally receives the dress, along with Osterley’s affectionate note, it sets into motion a tale of scandalous misunderstandings and love in the last place you look.
K: Any book recommendations for us? What have you been reading in your spare time? Im sure we would all love some recommendations for some beach reading!
KN: What spare time?! All kidding aside, I find it very difficult to read while I’m working on a book, but I do manage to sneak a book in here and there. The most recent book I read and loved was Smooth Talking Stranger by Lisa Kleypas. I’ve always loved Lisa Kleypas’s historicals and I’m just now discovering her Texas-set contemporaries. It’s fantastic!
K: Thank you so much for stopping by and answering some questions for us!!
And now for our Giveaway. b2b will give one lucky commenter Kate’s eNovella “The Dress of the Season” if you tell us what TV/Movie actor reminds you of your favorite hero! Speaking of, who is your favorite hero?!
All of London looks forward to the Dowager Duchess of Clayworth’s annual ball. For no matter how hard the serious society matron strives to host an elegant event, scandal always ensues…
Seven years ago it was a young Serena Donovan and Jonathan Dane who shocked the ton when they were discovered in a most compromising position. Tonight they return for the first time as the Earl and Countess of Stratford. And while Serena hopes for a quiet evening to introduce her younger sister Olivia to society, Jonathan’s only desire is to pick up where he and Serena left off…
Though innocent Olivia secretly longs for the kind of passion her sister shares with her husband, none of the men she’s met spark a fire inside her heart—least of all the notorious Marquis of Fenwicke. When his request for a waltz turns into something sinister, Olivia must use her wit and wiles to evade a powerful peer who vows if can’t have her, no man shall…
REVIEW: I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘book 1.5’ as it is very, VERY short and it’s an intro to the second Donovan Sisters’ book, Olivia Donovan. If you’ve read the first one, then you’ve met these women with pluck. I liked them all, and after reading the 1.5 and 2.0, I can honestly say I loved the first one, so far, the best.
The blurb above tells you basically the whole story of 1.5 so my review will be of what worked and what didn’t, for me at least.
Meg aka Serena Donovan and Jonathan Dane worked for me because I just fell in love with both, and the way they approached their memories of that faithful night long ago.
You see, seven years ago, they were caught making love, in an alcove, and made to feel ashamed of it. This night, they were ready to face the ‘shame’ and both are realizing that they did nothing wrong by expressing their strong attraction and love for each other in a way that they both found pleasurable.
Olivia Donovan on the other hand finds herself admiring her dance partner, one Leonard Reece, Marquis of Fenwicke, and after he plies her with a few glasses of champagne, he manages to talk her into going with him in search of her two sisters who were not present in the ballroom after the waltz had concluded.
As soon as he’s left alone with her, unobserved by other guests, he shoves her through the door to another alcove, and drops his ‘polite and charming’ demeanor for this ‘domineering and creepy’ self, and our heroine quickly realizes that she needs to use her wits to escape this vile man and not attract the attention of the other guests and have Serena’s repeat performance of seven years ago.
And here is where I had a problem. These girls were brought up by a strong woman (their mother lost her husband to malaria as soon as they arrived in Antigua; survived the elements, and raised FIVE girls to be proper, independent, and strong women so they could make advantageous matches), and after the fiasco of seven years ago, this twenty-one year old woman was acting like a ninny! Yes, I know she was sheltered by them all because of her illness, but I expected her to be smart, and the situation she finds herself in was unnecessary, even from the plot’s perspective. I would have had more respect for her if she ‘read’ him better and paid attention to her screaming instincts.
I’m a bit disappointed in this read, only because I loved Jennifer Haymore’s previous series and I’m hoping this one will just get better with the next book.
*To buy this book, click on the cover*
*To learn more about the author, click on her name*
* I received a copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review*
STORY: First in a thrilling military romantic suspense series based on the real-life elite helicopter pilots who transport Navy SEALs and Delta Force teams in and out of combat and covert missions. (SOAR are the heroes of Black Hawk Down.)
M. L. Buchman’s heroine flies the most dangerous military ops and tries to find the one man who can be a hero in her own life. Ace-pilot Captain Emily Beale goes undercover as bodyguard to the First Lady, with her rugged commander, Major Mark Henderson, who is determined to cover her back. Can she learn to keep her desire at bay before her covert mission implodes?
REVIEW: Let me come clean here and admit that the only reason I wanted to read this story was because a man wrote it. I was really curious if a man author can pull off a romance as well as a woman authoress. And before you all gang up on me, yes I am aware that there were men ‘pulling it off’ quite well long before M. L. Buchman, but that was very, VERY long time ago. In a time when women were ‘supposed’ to be ignorant and uneducated, so that doesn’t count.
As the book blurb tells us who our hero and heroine are, I’ll skip on summarizing the story and get right on and tell you what worked for me and what didn’t.
I thought both hero and heroine were great characters and the author made me believe that she’s as competent and brave as her male counterparts. As a matter a fact, she was one of those women that was good in almost everything she sets her mind on.
Major Mark Henderson, or the “Viper” as he’s known to his fellow soldiers was perfectly cast as the hero who is a total opposite of Emily and the chemistry between the two worked great. The Yin and Yang of the two was perfectly pitched, and you could feel the tension and the sparks fly off of the pages! He was one of those men that the phrase ‘never let them see you sweat’ totally applies.
As to the plot, in spite of its predictability, I found myself warming up to it and wanting to know who the villain is. I also liked the pace of the story and I enjoyed the suspense and action which were quite good.
Those are the things that worked for me, but there’s one thing that I found waaaaaaaaaaay over my head, and that is all the military ‘lingo’. Honestly, I was lost…in the desert…with no canteen!
The author has obviously done his homework on helicopters, flying and guns. While all of that gives the book its authenticity, in my case, it made me feel like an outsider…
Now, I’m going to come clean yet again and tell you all that I’m also lost in regards to cars. There are only a handful of car models that I can name, as for the rest, they are just ‘vehicles’ in assorted colors and sizes.
‘The Night is Mine’ is a fun, intriguing and suspenseful romance full of action. Once I got over all the military lingo, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, and yes, is the answer to myself; an author of male persuasion, other than Shakespeare, can write a romance novel!
*To buy this book, click on the cover*
*To learn more about the author, click on his name*
* I received a copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review*
K: Hello Genevieve! We want to sincerely thank you for granting us an interview. We are thrilled that you are here! I am excited to share with our readers your first novel, which is causing quite a buzz, as well as hearing a little bit about your plans for us readers for the future.
UNDER THE SAME SKY is your debut novel. Can you tell us a little bit about how this novel took place in your head? How did this wonderful story come to life for you?
GG: Hi Kristal! Thank you so much for inviting me here today. And thanks for saying that – it’s causing a buzz? I didn’t know that! Yay! I think people are finding it’s a different kind of romance, something unexpected, and they like that.
I never planned on being an author, and it didn’t happen until I was over forty. I was an obsessive reader, picking up anything and everything ever written by Diana Gabaldon. I absolutely love her writing, and have read the series at least four times (and listened to it an additional three times!). When I’d finished it the last time, I felt kinda lonely, kinda deflated after all that adventure was done … so I told my husband I was going to go off and write my own. I still remember the way he shrugged and said, “Okay. See you later.” Like it’s an everyday thing, right?
When I started to type, I had no idea of what I wanted to write. None. I just sort of sat there, staring at the screen. Then … it was almost as if I heard a voice telling me what to write, except it wasn’t that exactly. It’s was more like I felt what I was supposed to write. I felt Maggie, and I let her take over. She didn’t ask. She told me, showing me the dark details of her life, letting me in on her little secrets. I felt badly for her, because she’d obviously had a rough time of it, and I just knew things weren’t about to improve anytime soon.
Then I started to get a picture in my head of a quiet, dark warrior in a kilt, a man with a deep need inside him that he told no one about. No one but me.
Three hours later I came upstairs and plopped about twenty pages on my husband’s lap. He looked surprised, read them, than looked surprised again. “Hey, that’s not bad,” he said. And he’s supported me every step of the way since then. I’m so lucky.
K: I am hearing so many good things about UNDER THE SAME SKY! People are writing that they can’t believe it is a debut novel because it is so wonderfully written. It has been called EPIC… Epic is a pretty big claim! How does that make you feel, to hear that people love this book so much?
GG: I know! Epic! The book came out a month ago, and I’m still wandering around in a fog. I have to say that it’s very surreal; first of all, just knowing people are reading what I wrote. Then to realize they like it? I feel awesome, Kristal. Like there’s a part of me I never knew existed until all this happened, and that part of me is having a wonderful time.
K: I love to ask this question, because I’m a nosy girl. And I’m always curious about how the mind works. How do you get in the “mood” to write? Is there something special that inspires you? Music, lighting? Somewhere special in your house that inspires you or lends itself to some solitude?
GG: I like to write every day if I can, though my other business is editing, so I’m often working on other people’s novels instead of my own. I have a quiet little office in my house, and I usually burn candles and sip on herbal tea while I write. If I can, there’s no noise at all, and definitely no music. It’s kind of strange, because my university degree is in Music Performance and I love classical music. Maybe it’s because I think too much when I hear it. I need quiet so I can disappear into the story without distraction.
K: UNDER THE SAME SKY is very, very well written. I was hooked after the first sentence. I was in awe of your ability to have these characters know and love one another from afar and yet make it work so beautifully. How did you research for a story that spanned continents? The Highlands and colonial America are wonderful, vast, wild places that I’m sure conjured up some wonderful romantic ideals but did it require a lot of research on your part to put it all together?
GG: Thank you, and yes. I had no idea how to research for it, but I knew it had to be right. Initially I wrote this book just for my own enjoyment, and if I’d put in bogus facts I would have disappointed myself. I loved using tiny details – for example, the name of the ship, the “Boyd of Glasgow”, and its captain are the actual real names for that date and port of departure.
I began by researching in the library, but I have the attention span of a gnat, so that didn’t work out. I started googling different topics and came up with all different kinds of answers. Eventually I ended up working with some incredible people online. For the Highlander information (among other sources), I worked with a terrific man named Guy from http://www.HistoricHighlanders.com, and he nitpicked about the tiniest—and yet incredibly significant—details. And for the Cherokee knowledge, I went to a man named Ironhead Vann, who is the great-great-great grandson of ‘Chief’ Rich Joe Vann of the Old Cherokee Nation. Ironhead’s gorgeous site is http://www.CherokeeByBlood.com.
K: Can you tell us a little bit about your next novel, SOUND OF THE HEART, which is coming out May 1, 2012? I will say, it looks wonderful, but let you describe it for our readers.
GG: I don’t want to give too much away, but SOUND OF THE HEART focuses on Dougal, the brother of the hero in UNDER THE SAME SKY. The brothers were separated at Culloden Moor in April 1746 and both assumed the other had been killed in the battle. But Andrew escaped, and Dougal had a far rougher time of it. Along the way, though, he discovers true love … then loses it when the love of his life is stolen by the English and shipped to the new world as a slave. When I was researching for this book I discovered that white slavery, especially among Scots of that time period, was rampant. We never hear about that. The truth is that some of the transported Scots were called “indentured servants”, but others were actual slaves. I found that to be both horrifying and fascinating, and I plan on learning more about that. Anyway, the book follows both Dougal and his beloved through their own separate adventures, and we all just have to hope for a reunion … heh heh
K: What are your plans for after SOUND OF THE HEART? Are there other books in the same vein as these two?
GG: Yes again. The third book, OUT OF THE SHADOWS features Maggie’s sister, Adelaide, and is already on my agent’s desk. I’m just waiting to see what will happen with it. This is a tough economic time for publishers and they have to be really careful signing debut authors. I have my fingers crossed! And … book #4 (untitled so far) is under way. It’s about Janet. So many readers said she deserved a book, and about a month ago she told me she had a great story to tell, so what else could I do?
K: Can you tell us who some of your favorite authors are? What kinds of books you enjoy and genres that you prefer?
GG: I prefer what I call “Historic Adventure” over “Historic Romance” in many cases. I lose myself in heart wrenching suspense, gritty adventures, and the dangers that these people had to face. I think my favorite aspect of writing Historic fiction is that, well, who is to say those stories never happened? When I write, I feel like I’m “channeling”. Doesn’t that mean those people have passed?
I love anything by Diana Gabaldon, Sara Donati, Penelope Williamson, and Jennifer Roberson, and recently I’ve really been enjoying the work of Kaki Warner and Joanna Bourne. To hold my attention, a story has to be compelling, intelligent, emotional, and unpredictable … is that asking too much?
K: Thank you so much for stopping by and chatting with us and our readers! We appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to spending time with us!
Kristal here. For one copy of UNDER THE SAME SKY please tell us when was the last time you read a debut novel that knocked your socks off?!
Recently Jeri contacted me through my RR@H email and wondered if I wouldn’t mind reading her novel ‘REVERB’. I had so much on my ‘plate’ that I thought maybe I should check this book on Amazon before I commit to something. Its blurb was intriguing enough but what really hooked me was the first sentence of the book, so I told her that I’d be happy to do it. To say that this book is well-written is just not quite enough. I’m going to say that it is brilliant. It’s deep. It’s unique. You can find my review of it here.
We’re honored to have Jeri with us today so grab a cup of chai, coffee or any beverage that you like, sit back, relax and let’s find out more about Jeri and her work.
b2b: Welcome to b2b Jeri Cafesin (by the way how do you pronounce your name)? In order for me to remember its spelling I’ve separated it in two words: café & sin. Is that the correct way of pronouncing it?
JC: You got it. Cafe (but I don’t know how to get the little dash over the e), and Sin. But the name is not referring to a place to eat, or sin, which I don’t believe in anyway. Indifference to suffering and willful ignorance are the greatest evils by far. Sin is a religious construct.
The name is a pseudonym, made up from my maiden name when I first started writing. Wanted to keep fine writing separate from my copy writing.
b2b: Got it. I also agree with you on the indifference. Well said! Before I begin this interview, I want to thank you for stopping by, and just to give you a heads up: This is my first interview here or anywhere else, so good luck to both of us!
JC: This is my third. The link to my very first interview is on my Bio page because I kept trying to come up with content, think of something to say about myself, and couldn’t come up with anything beyond the obvious—that I’m a writer and a mom and a wife (the writer and the wife always after the mom).
The writer part of me has spent my lifetime watching and interviewing others, trying to make myself as anonymous as possible, fade into the background. It’s…interesting, being on the other end of that when I do a reading or even an online interview like this.
b2b: I think every mom out there will relate to your answer. Once you become a mother, everything else is secondary.
I have to tell you that the title of your novel ‘REVERB’ had me stumped. I had no clue about what the word meant, so I ran it by my husband and so he’d explained it to me. Tell us how did you come up with it and why that word?
JC: Reverb is a fairly common word with musicians but means several things. Short for reverberation, it’s an electronic effect added to music, but it’s also something else. My son plays electric guitar and he gets feedback, the music he’s playing loops in the amp and comes back at him distorted. This is also considered ‘reverb.’ James Whren, the protagonist of the novel, learns what we put out there, what we give is what we get back.
b2b: How true. I love that metaphor.
Some authors write at certain times of day or week. What’s your typical writing schedule and what gets your creative juices flowing? If you have any tips to help other aspiring new authors out there, feel free to share!
JC: When the kids are in school (YEA! Can’t wait for them to go back there!!!), I get them out of the house by 8:00 in the morning, and after going through email and a quick bit of social networking, FB and Twitter…etc., I write. I don’t stop until I have to pick them up for school around 2:30 most days. Lunch is some dry toast or nuts so I don’t have to take time to eat. Story and characters still linger in my head when I’m dealing with the kids and household things that need to get done, but I’m done with writing for the day. Usually read at night (what I want to after reading with the kids). Reading helps me see structure, what I want to emulate, what I don’t. Reading a lot helps me be a better writer.
b2b: I honestly enjoyed every aspect of this book. What inspired it and who did you envision as James?
JC: Glad you enjoyed the read! (You wrote the word ‘brilliant,’ about Reverb above, and I’m hoping you mean it in the British sense where everything is just brilliant. This morning my daughter told DH and I between giggles she likes to pretend she’s a rock star inside her head. Unknown to her, I did too, hence James Whren.
b2b: How cute! When I said ‘brilliant’ I meant “having or showing great intelligence, talent, and quality”. All of the above definitely apply to your novel.
Some authors give too much space to their secondary characters that often times they take over the story. Some do just the opposite. In my opinion you’ve achieved a wonderful balance and gave us just the right amount. Enough to wonder who they are and want more of them. Tell us more about them and if any (Kate in particular) would be having their own story?
JC: Very good. Ah, Kate. She’s the lead in my first novel Disconnected, which I’m now on the 4th year of rewriting (with 13 years between the first draft and this one). In Reverb, Kate finally came off the page and told me her story, with a satisfying and liberating ending [for women] at that!
b2b: Now that makes me happy to hear. I thought she had a lot of spunk! Looking forward to her story.
Cover Art in my humble opinion is really very important and that guy on the cover of ‘REVERB’ looks so familiar. He reminded me of Seth Gabel, the actor from ‘Dirty Sexy Money’ series. Who is the Dude on the cover and how much input are you allowed during this process?
JC: Ouch. Sore subject for me. Publisher wanted the current cover. I didn’t. Providing a photograph of a man on the book cover robs the prose of creating an image of masculine beauty. Though we know James is often perceived as beautiful, at least physically, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in Reverb should be the construct of the reader.
I executed several other book covers, my latest I’m looking to get enough comments on to submit to my publisher in hopes of using it instead of the current guy. Read the novel, and if you agree the cover is not what it should be, follow the link to newest book cover and leave a quick comment. I don’t think she’ll believe me with anything less than 50 in favor of the new cover.
b2b: I actually like both!
Do you let someone read your work during your writing process? Who and why? Or do you wait ‘till it’s finished, then you let someone read it…and who?
JC: I work with writing groups, in person and online like Zoetrope, Urbis L.A., where [mostly] writers read and critique other writers. I read it aloud, again and again. When I finish I usually have my husband read it first. He’s anal about spelling and grammatical structure, and, of course, I’m, well, not, so he helps me clean up. He’s my first editor, before the book editor from the publishing house. Professional, or friends that read a lot, it’s important for me to get the readers view and take-away of the story to make sure I’m telling the characters stories instead of my own.
b2b: Jeri, have you been writing for long and what else is out there for us to read from you? I think we’d like to know more about your journey into the publishing world. How hard is it to break through?
JC: “Break through.” We all have a different measure of that, to be sure. What’s yours?…To be read? By how many? 500, 5,000, 10,000,000? Mine is to make a living on fine writing alone (novels, essays and such); not a huge sum (even minimum annual wage would be good), but provide me with enough to justify quitting my ‘real’ job in advertising.
My journey in making up stories began as far back as I can remember with my stuffed dog, Checkers. At breakfast I used to make up elaborate tales of going in the night to Disneyland with my foot long blue and white checkered fabric mutt; or maybe sneaking out for a midnight surf off Malibu, with Checkers hanging ten off the front of my board.
I started keeping diaries when I was five. Switched to journals, you know those spiral binders we used for school. I loved having them everywhere, by the bed, in the bathroom, the car, with a pen stuck down the center of the metal spiral, and I wrote in them all the time. Now I can hardly hand-write anymore. I’ve been typing into a computer for so long I’ve become clumsy with a pen. I generally think as fast as I type, but when I have to use a pen I really have to focus on my hand movements to write now.
b2b: Well now you got me thinking. Am I a writer? In writing this Blog would I be considered as such?! I wouldn’t mind 10,000,000 people reading my blog! LOL!!
It is very difficult for me to choose my favorite author or a book, how about you? Are you willing to fess-up?
JC: Hard to choose with so much great writing out there. Favorite author is hard for me because I was taught not to fall for the artist but the art. So a few favorite books, this minute, off the top, which if you asked tomorrow the answers would be different: The Martian Chronicles, The Fountainhead, The Magus, The Collector, Crime and Punishment, Knockemstiff, Childhood’s End, The Godfather, Something Wicked This Way Comes, The End of the Affair, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy…
b2b: Those are some great books! I only read one of those, but now I’ll be checking the other ones you mentioned.
What do you like to read and what’s on your TBR now?
JC: DH and kids buy me books for every present worthy occasion. Usually contemporary commercial fiction. Just finished Stranger on the Planet, and I’m just beginning Matched, and after that is Attachments and The Other Life.
b2b: Now, that ends up our ‘professional’ portion of this interview. Are you ready to get personal? Or are you going to chicken out on me?
JC: Humm…
b2b: …I take that to be a yes so, let’s get Personal:
Tell us a bit about yourself, something personal that you’d like us to know…anything that makes you comfortable…or not…like how many times did you fall in love?
JC: Never fell in love, except for with my kids, from the day they were born, but I’m taking it you mean adult love. Worked at love twice in my life, (maybe three times but I knew it was a mistake from the beginning), and I’m married to my second journey into love. Everyday we prove to one another we’re here for each other and I’m more in love with my husband. I’m a firm believer Love is an action. The word itself is meaningless unless shown.
b2b: Once more, very well put. Saying the words and not backing it with an ‘action’ is meaningless.
Jeri, you’ve been so gracious today. Thank you for sharing with us. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed having you here and I wish you all the luck. You have an awesome talent, please keep at it.
JC: Thanks for having me on bookworm2bookworm!! Questions? Leave a comment here or on my site with your email and I’ll get back to you…
GIVEAWAY DETAILS:
Jeri will be giving away 1 signed printed copy of her ‘REVERB’ novel
& two PDF forms of it.
All you need to do is:
Become a b2b subscriber.
Post a comment or question
(here or on JC’s website, with your email address).
If uncomfortable with that, send me or Jeri an email.
STORY: Caught behind enemy lines at the Battle of Waterloo, nurse Jane Wetherby is forced to seek shelter with British operative Lord Edward Kellington. After a night of passion, the two are separated. With nothing but the alias Jane used to protect her family, Lord Edward is unable to find the woman he can’t forget.
Seven years later, Jane courts scandal by serving as the unofficial surgeon in the village of Marston Vale. When Edward arrives to formalize his betrothal to a viscount’s daughter in accordance with his late father’s wishes, Jane has no choice but to watch the match proceed. When a threat from the past emerges, Jane must join forces with Edward to safeguard her loved ones. But at what risk to her heart…
REVIEW: “Never a Mistress, No Longer a Maid” a début romance novel by Maureen Driscoll is a thrilling Regency Historical romance that spans seven years and begins in Belgium right after the battle at Waterloo. In this first installment of Kellington Series we meet the family, headed by William, Duke of Lynwood who has three brothers and a sister who were all named after England’s Kings and a Queen. Edward, Ned, was second born; Arthur and Henry were followed by Elizabeth.
This is Ned’s story and it has everything a romance novel should: a handsome and very charming hero determined to protect the love of his life and a beautiful and strong heroine, determined to keep the biggest secret of her life.
Their story is sweet and sensual as well as passionate. It is filled with secrets and intrigue, redemption and forgiveness, humor and wit. Here’s an excerpt that I liked a lot:
“He knew the leg needed to be tended to, even if he didn’t quite trust the person would do the tending. But, given the lack of options, he resigned himself to it.
‘You have absolutely no respect for good Scots whiskey. May I have another drink? I assure you I’m filled with plenty of spirits that would be well assuaged by the potion.’ Then he gave her the smile that had melted half the hearts in the ton and spread a good portion of their legs.
She gave him the drink. Then the stick.
He obligingly bit down.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked.
‘Madam,” he said, taking the stick out of his mouth, ‘I will never be ready for you to cut into me. However, I am resigned.’
He replaced the stick and bit down hard.”
I liked Ms. Driscoll’s writing style and the pace of the book. When I read a book I want to be invested in these people, I want to care for them, and Ms. Driscoll has managed to meet all those requirements for me. I’m looking forward to visiting these people over and over. However, I still wanted just a bit more depth and detail. For example…
**SPOILER**
Just two or three more sentences would make me feel and not only see the first reunion between Ned and Jane.
All of the secondary characters in this book are well written, three-dimensional with strong voices of their own. I understand that each one will have their own story, and let me tell you, I can’t wait to meet Lizzie’s hero. The man who tames her will certainly deserve respect of her brother the Duke. Speaking of our Duke, Ms. Driscoll has created a very strong character in writing him and she has managed to keep him under control, lest he take over Ned’s story. Not many authors can balance the secondary characters so well, but she has done an outstanding job at that! I will be very disappointed not to have Rosalind fall in love with our Duke. This is a wonderful story of true love, trust, family and friendship. It’s a keeper and ‘must read.’
Yet another discovery of a début author that I’ve had the privilege to read. I am astonished at some of these women that seem to be coming out of the woodwork, brimming with obvious talent. These women have never been published, yet their prose can go toe-to-toe with the best of them. I know. I’ve read THE best of the best.
His idyllic estate is falling down from neglect and
Nightmares of war give him no rest.
Then Devlin St. Just meets his new neighbor.
UNTIL HIS BEAUTIFUL NEIGHBOUR
IGNITES HIS IMAGINATION
With her confident manner hiding a devastating
Secret, his lovely neighbor commands all of his
Attention, and protecting Emmaline becomes
Devlin’s most urgent mission.
I am BEYOND excited to start today what I hope will become a monthly event Guest Post & Giveaway with…
To help launch this adventure for us I’ve invited an author that is still very new to many. Her début book “The Heir” hit the bookstores last December and has garnered much praise. Today, she’s here to talk about her latest release, “The Soldier” as well as introduce herself to us. I for one want to know where has she been hiding her talent?
So without further ado, I give youGrace Burrowes, an author that’s well on her way to win us all with her wonderful prose.
Melanie, whose blog this is, asked me that after she finished reading “The Heir,” and it’s a fine question to pose when an author pops out of the starting gate with an eight-sibling series in the works.
I haven’t been lurking. I’ve been doing the same thing I suspect my readers are doing: Raising the offspring, paying the bills, learning the life lessons. Long, long ago I was an arts reporter for a small daily newspaper, but I never considered myself a writer—I was just the only person on staff with a degree in music and some interest in art. I did a shift copy editing for the same outfit, and ended up after college as a technical editor and writer, but still, I did not consider myself a writer.
I was, however, a mother—a single mother. In those years, I read, and read, and read. It was my escape, my consolation, my guilty pleasure, my way of insisting that I was a grown up no matter how many Thomas the Tank or Disney Princess videos I watched. I read romance, of course—I suspect most single moms do—sometimes a book a day.
While I raised the Beloved Offspring, paid the bills, and learned the life lessons. Eventually, Beloved Offspring was sufficiently raised that she went fluttering out of the nest. I hear from her regularly, and I miss her constantly, but the pride I take in her growth and maturation outweighs the missing… well, I hope it will soon, because I am very proud of her.
Somewhere in the midst of my daughter’s exodus, I became an increasingly fussy reader. I wanted substance in my characters, believable plots, emotional punch in the writing… fussy, fussy, fussy. I’d written a romance novel as part of my master’s program, but still I did not consider myself a writer.
Until one night I was working late at the office, supposedly lawyering up some document for filing at the courthouse, when I instead got out the book I was devouring that day… except I couldn’t devour it. For every line of dialogue, I thought of another line that might have worked better. For every internal aside by Our Hero, I thought up something more witty or compelling…
And into my head popped a thought: “I could write one these.” It was the type of “Now Hear This” thought that bonks us over the head with particularly intensity. I opened a new document and started writing a novel.
There ensued an orgy of writing that lasted at least two years. Novels sprouted from each other sideways, up, down, and from the middle. My imagination was an overfed spider plant, generating books at a great rate, and I have never had so much fun in all my born days. I love to write, I love to be in the story, to play Let’s Pretend at the computer.
Understand, please, that I do not own a TV or DVD player. I own no radio, I don’t get a newspaper. Until well after I started writing, there was no internet at the house. Of course I got a lot of writing done—anybody would get a lot of writing done in such a stimulus deprivation chamber.
My fiftieth birthday loomed up out of the fog of WIPs and MSs, and I decided what-the-heck, why not see if any of this schtuff is publishable? I signed up for a few writers’ conferences, and the first person I pitched offered me a contract. We now have eleven books in the publication queue, and of those, eight are already written at least in draft. Another twenty books are incubating in completed draft form, waiting to see the light of day.
That’s where I’ve been lurking. What can you take away from this recitation? Several things.
First, the best part of life can begin a lot later than you think—if you let it.
Second, having fun and being successful can coincide, but there’s usually some risk to ego involved.
Third, when it’s your passion, it doesn’t feel like work.
There are some books that come more easily than others, but the hardest writing day is still more fun than the easiest lawyering day.
And having realized that, I can now say, that yes, I’m a writer. A very happy writer.
And for those of you interested, an excerpt below follows from the third book in the Duke’s Obession series, “The Virtuoso.” Valentine’s story will hit the shelves in November, immediately after the first of the Windham sisters’ stories, “Lady Sophie’s Christmas Wish.” By way of background, he’s a virtuoso pianist no longer able to make music. He’s trying to endure this sentence by restoring a run down country estate. She’s a widowed baroness in a world of trouble that her attractive neighbor might be able to resolve–if she’ll trust him. Here’s an excerpt from “The Virtuoso:”
Well, I got my question answered, and I’m humbled by your story. Thanks for stopping by and sharing it with us. We wish you much success and many awards! If you’d like to get in touch with Grace, please click on her name, or you can find her on FACEBOOK, like I did. Grace has generously offered to give away 3 signed copies of her début historical romance, ‘The Heir’ to 3 lucky commenters!
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BOOK BLURB: SCANDALOUS DESIRES . . .
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This morning my daughter told DH and I between giggles she likes to pretend she’s a rock star inside her head. Unknown to her, I did too, hence James Whren.
Ah, Kate. She’s the lead in my first novel 
