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Excerpt Friday ~ Hook Me!

Friday, August 6th, 2010

Read and let me know if you were hooked? I definitely was and I love the cover!

~*~*~

Turn of the century novelist Lilly Westbrook learns that being faithful to her calling means more than just putting pen to paper.

It’s the summer of 1899 in Newport, Rhode Island, and Lilly Westbrook is struggling to conceal her career from family and friends because of the stigma attached to dime novels. Lilly feels good about her secret—after all, she’s enlightening working class girls with her books and honoring God by using her talents to His glory.

But her secret is threatened when Jackson Grail, a former suitor, becomes Lilly’s new publisher. He’s determined to revive his floundering publishing house by maximizing their most promising–and most secretive–author. His plan? Find “Fannie Cole” and convince her to go public.

When a gossip columnist discovers Lilly’s true identity, she finds that being faithful to her calling involves more than just putting pen to paper. It requires that she stand up for her faith and for herself, no matter the consequences.

LOVE ON A DIME ~ Cara Lynn James
Release Date: June 8, 2010 ~ Thomas Nelson

Excerpt

Lilly rushed up the carpeted staircase, anxious to vanish into the sanctuary of her bedroom. Her heart tumbled end over end. She stopped before she reached the landing and forced air into and out of her lungs as rhythmically as she could manage. Still, her bosom heaved as if she ’d run several miles in a tightly laced corset.

After six years, she never expected to see Jackson Grail again.

What nerve to show up on her doorstep when he surely must know his appearance would upset her. Her heart burned at the memory of him declaring his love and then casting her aside with only a lame explanation.

“You left so suddenly.” Jack’s deep voice startled her. She turned her head and spotted him at the foot of the stairs. “Did I say something to offend you, Lilly?”

She clutched the stair rail. “Not at all,” she fibbed. Why was he following her? The item in Talk of the Town coupled with Jack’s sudden appearance stripped her of every ounce of composure. She needed solitude to think and absorb all the bad news of the day.

“Then I’m sorry for my mistake. I thought you seemed distressed.” Jack inclined his head, but he didn’t turn to leave.

Lilly hesitated, and then regained her manners. “I’m afraid I haven’t been particularly welcoming, and I apologize for my behavior. Will you forgive me?”

“Yes, of course. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, but thank you for your concern.” She waited for him to bow and depart, but he continued to stare at her, his eyes brimming with—what? Embarrassment? Regret? She couldn’t tell.

He nodded as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Would you mind stepping outside for a few moments? I have something to tell you I should have said long ago.”

Lilly shook her head, but felt her resolve weakening. “No, I’m sorry. I do have letters to write . . .”

She wasn’t ready for any more revelations today. Was he about to apologize for his departure or offer an explanation for why he failed to maintain any sort of relationship since then? Later, when she prepared herself to accept his account calmly and without bitterness,

she’d listen. But not yet.

“Can’t your correspondence wait? I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

Curiosity overcame her better judgment. Slowly she descended the stairs, clutching the rail for support. When she reached Jack, she refused to slip her hand into the crook of his arm. He raised his brows, but she ignored his questioning look. Her knees shook as they passed through the veranda and out onto the lush back lawn.

“Shall we walk to the beach?” he suggested.

Lilly nodded and pointed to a small sandy cove hollowed out between mounds of granite that jutted into the surf.

They strolled silently across the lawn and stopped where the grass edged a narrow strip of wet, silvery sand. Wisps of downy clouds floated across an azure sky which touched the royal blue ocean. A breeze shook the leafy skirt of a nearby elm tree and stirred the wild red roses blooming all along the shore. Their perfume blended with fresh, salty air, heavy and humid. With her hand shielding her eyes from the glare of the noonday sun, Lilly lifted her gaze to Jack.

Her heart fluttered, just as it always had when she looked at him. The years faded away and she saw the same broad-shouldered man who towered above her and moved with an athletic agility. A lock of his raven hair blew across his forehead. He pushed it back unsuccessfully, obviously unaware of his boyish appeal mixed with a strong, masculine allure. He’d grown more handsome now that he was approaching thirty, though age had crinkled the laugh lines around his dark brown eyes. Instinctively, Lilly knew to guard her heart.

“What did you want to tell me, Jack?”

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Posted in Excerpt Thursdays | 18 Comments »

Another Taste

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010

Today, I’m continuing with the countdown to the release of my second historical romance, A TASTE OF DESIRE, with another excerpt. If you want to check out the first taste, click here.

SHE CHALLENGED HIS PRIDE

Lady Amelia Bertram may have a reputation as the most brazen beauty of the ton, but she shocks even herself when she accidently—and loudly—derides one of society’s most eligible bachelors in the middle of a crowded ballroom. The timing of her faux pas couldn’t be worse, for her father is seeking someone to take her off his hands that very night…

HE CHALLENGED HER WILLPOWER

But when Thomas Armstrong overhears the so-called “Lady” Amelia slandering his sexual prowess in public, he cannot help but accept the dare implicit in her words. To her father’s great delight, he offers to take her to his secluded country estate—properly chaperoned, of course—to teach the girl a lesson in ladylike behavior…

Here’s how it all began.

As Thomas, Viscount Armstrong, digested Harold Bertram’s words, he came up straight in his seat, his hands finding the curved arms of the chair. Although the marquess delivered the request with all the gravity of a clergyman officiating a funeral, Thomas prayed he hadn’t heard him correctly.

“You would like me to do what?” Thomas issued the question in a soft voice and an even calmer tone, but the sound cracked the air like the report of a rifle.

The marquess gave a mirthless laugh and shot a quick glance at the study doors before shifting his regard back to him. “I am asking you to-to take my daughter under your care during my stay in America.”

Thomas suffered through the second such insupportable request in as many days—this one even more painful than the last.

Only the prior day, a peer in the House of Lords had presented him with the kind of offer that sent honest men hurtling full-tilt down the unsavory road to perdition. He hadn’t thought it could possibly get more unseemly than that.

He was wrong.

What Harry spoke of was not about politics and one thousand pound bribes; this was one hundred times worse.

“It would be—er—up until the new year unless I could conclude the negotiations in less time.”

Harold Bertram, the Marquess of Bradford, or Harry as he preferred close acquaintances to call him, was not a lack wit—though many might doubt that assertion at the present time. He possessed the sharpest mind in matters of finance and business, and could articulate—when not suffering a brain lapse—with the eloquence of an orator the likes of which Caesar and Henley never saw. However, his nineteen-year-old daughter could fray the nerves of even the most battle-seasoned soldier. Thomas himself could attest to that.

Fixing the marquess—who had fallen conspicuously mute—with an unblinking stare, Thomas cocked his brow. Harry must have indeed taken leave of his senses. The chit had finally driven him to that.

“If this is a joke, I assure you, I do not find it the least bit amusing,” Thomas replied, when he finally recovered enough to speak. “I mean, we are speaking about Lady Amelia are we not? Unless, pray tell, you have yet another daughter hidden away who is not a disrespectful termagant?”

A round of uncomfortable clearing of the throat ensued, followed by a weary-to-the-bones exhalation. “Heavens, then tell me what I’m to do with her? If I take her with me, I would have neither the time nor energy to keep her out of her usual mischief, especially in a country where I lack familiarity. At present, you are the only person I trust enough to come to regarding this matter. Perhaps if the trip weren’t of such importance, and I could rearrange my schedule….” Harry sent him a silent look of appeal.

At his words, Thomas’s conscience received a faint prick, but thankfully, the feeling lasted no more than a few seconds. In his estimation, voyaging to America in the interest of a business endeavor could not compare to subjecting himself to playing taskmaster to Harry’s recalcitrant daughter.

Leaning forward, Thomas’s fingers curled into the napped fabric of the armrest. “If you requested I take your place at the guillotine or the hangman’s noose, I would consider that less an imposition.”

As you can see from the first scene of the book, the hero and heroine have a prior acquaintance that is strife with animosity–at least on the hero’s part. How do you feel about a shared history between the hero and heroine that is far less than amicable? Comment and enter to win a copy of Lisa Kleypas’s LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON.

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Posted in Giveaways, Kensington | 45 Comments »

Countdown to MIDNIGHT

Tuesday, June 29th, 2010

If you receive The Season newsletter, you know that I’m counting down to Beverly Jenkin’s MIDNIGHT, which will release October 26th.

I met Beverly at the RWA Conference in Dallas in 2007. I was unpublished and frantically running around getting free signed books to add to my already hefty collection. Well, she could not have been more genuinely sweet to me, and I never forgot her kindness. So I’m ultra pleased to be able to feed you monthly excerpts as we countdown to MIDNIGHT.

Oh, and I have to tip my hat to Avon’s art department. Didn’t they do a fantastic job with Beverly’s cover? Seriously, this is singularly the most spectacular one I’ve seen on her historicals.

~*~*~

In a time of peril, she fears nothing—except the forbidden passions of her heart.

In Boston, revolution is in the wind—yet none would ever suspect Faith Kingston of treason. But under cover of darkness, the beautiful daughter of a Tory tavern owner becomes the notorious spy “Lady Midnight,” passing valuable secrets to the rebels. Dedicated to fighting British tyranny, she’ll let nothing distract her—until a dark, mesmerizing stranger enters her life.

A reckless, worldly adventurer, Nicholas Grey has returned to troubled Massachusetts seeking revenge for the death of his rebel father. He suspects a local innkeeper, but it’s the man’s breathtaking, ebony skinned daughter who has truly captured his interest. Nicholas burns for the sensuous, secretive lady—and Faith cannot mask her own blazing desires. But when destiny unites their causes, the passion that draws Midnight into Nicholas’s arms is as dangerous as it is glorious—and it could spell disaster for them both.

~*~*~

Excerpt

Boston

December 1774

PROLOGUE

Primus Grey waited in the dark behind his print shop for his contact to arrive. Although she’d passed him secret information about the British before, he was the only member of the Sons of Liberty to know her true identity. To the others she was known only as Lady Midnight, the code name he’d bestowed upon her in honor of the time she usually appeared. Quiet as a shadow and silent as the moonlight, she never tarried longer than the time it took to pass along whatever news she had to relay, and then she was gone. More than once, he’d been asked by the Sons to trail her in an attempt to learn who she might be, but in truth, he preferred they not know.  In the world of spies, the less they knew about her, the less likely she could be betrayed.

A bit past midnight, she arrived. “Good evening, Mr. Grey.”

“M’lady. What news have you?”

“Your name has come to the attention of General Gage. You should leave Boston immediately if you do not wish to hang for treason. I’m so sorry.”

He froze.

“Godspeed, Mr. Grey.”

Filled with alarm, he watched her fade into the darkness before hurrying back inside to gather what personal belongings he could, but it was too late. A pounding on the door made him look up.

A voice shouted, “Primus Grey!” The knocking grew louder.

Fighting to keep his voice even, he called out., “Who’s there?”

“Representatives of the King.”

He drew in a deep breath and walked over to open the door.

There were six of them, all wearing the red coats of the British army. It was a cold night and he could see the steam from their breaths in the dim light of the torch above his door. The sharp tips of their bayonets glittered ominously in the moonlight. “What do you want with me?”

“You are under arrest.”

“And the charge?”

“Treason for aiding the rebels against the King.”

His chin rose. “Let me lock my shop.”

They allowed him to do so, and once it was done, they surrounded him. Word of their mission must have spread because a crowd of angry citizens began to gather. Primus couldn’t tell how many strong they were, but by the lights of the torches lining the shops and homes on the narrow winding street, they appeared sizeable. Calls and curses began to rain down on the soldiers. Snowballs flew at their heads. The citizens of  Boston had grown weary of the presence of the King’s four thousand  troops who’d been stationed in and around the city for the sole purpose of putting down the growing rebellion.

“Let him go!”a male voice rang out.

“Bloody lobster backs!”cried out another.

Rrocks and snowballs flew, some hitting the soldiers who quickly responded by taking  up a defensive position around their prisoner. More people began to arrive, adding their voices and rocks to the fray.  The officer in charge raised his weapon and sent out a warning shot. The people moved back.  British soldiers had fired on a similar crowd back in March 1770, and when the smoke cleared, men lay dead, including Crispus Attucks, a mariner of mixed African and Nantucket blood.  In the five years since, the incident had become known as the Boston Massacre, and stood as of one the most grievous marks against the policies of the hated King George III and his equally despised Parliament.

Apparently no one wanted to die that night. The crowd continued to hurl curses, snowballs and chunks of ice, but the soldiers were allowed to leave with their prisoner.

Sounds good, right? It certainly left me intrigued and wanting to know what happens to Mr. Primus Grey. How about you, does it leave you wanting to read more? Comment to enter to win a copy of Lisa Kleypas’s Love In the Afternoon. Gosh, is that wrong? I should really have had an Avon book to giveaway. ;)

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Posted in Avon Books, Giveaways | 42 Comments »

Excerpt Thursday ~ Hook Me!

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Were you hooked? Let me know what you think. You can click the cover to purchase Not Quite a Lady.

~*~*~

Not Quite A Lady ~ Erica Anderson
Release Date: April 14, 2010 ~ Ellora’s Cave

“I’m quite harmless, I assure you,” she said.

“Your assurances are completely unnecessary, madam.” Dare made a slow perusal of the room before continuing. “I see no traveling companions. If, in fact, you have any.” His tone left no doubt of his opinion on that issue. “Under the circumstances it would be improper to share the parlor. Despite your kind offer.” The final phrase was loaded with condescension. Really, had the woman been raised by wolves?

She appeared to be immune to his tone, only widening her eyes slightly as though she’d heard something that surprised her. Her eyes were brown, and he was reminded of the color of the moor when the autumn sun hung low in the sky. She was not pretty. Not exactly. Dare had experience with beauty in all its feminine forms, and this woman defied classification. Her nose was a bit too large, her chin too well defined. There was nothing soft and pliable here. Except…

She was still staring at him, as though she were stripping away the layers of politesse he cultivated in order to reveal whatever lay beneath his scowling features.

“As you wish,” she said simply and turned back to her book.

Dare ground his teeth. He did not care to return to the taproom where drunken wedding guests rubbed arms with unwashed plowmen. Perhaps this woman, whoever she was, at least had enough sense not to chatter. “I must beg your pardon,” he said gruffly.

She pressed a finger to the page to mark her position and looked up. “Oh?”

“I have been unconscionably rude.” He gave her the merest hint of a bow.

“I own that my own manners are quite shocking,” she said. “You are still welcome. If you wish.” Her voice curled around the words, lending them an undertone that he usually associated with sexual satisfaction.

He raised his eyebrows and let his eyes wander, quite deliberately, over her body. “Surely you have a reputation to preserve. A maid or companion, perhaps.” Or not. She was wearing a red dress, for God’s sake. It complemented her coloring, but still—red?

“Ah, yes. My maid.” She gave a little flick of her wrist. “She became ill and I was forced to leave her behind.”

Though her eyes were guileless, Dare knew, without a doubt, that she was dissembling. Rather than put him off, the realization only whetted his curiosity. “I see,” he said. He turned and made a show of removing his gloves, pulling the skintight leather from each finger. He tried again to place her. Perhaps she was a member of the demimonde. It was a sorority with which Dare was familiar, but she had none of the blowsy excess he associated with such women.

This train of thought reminded him of how long it had been since he had enjoyed a woman. It was regrettable that the dashing Mrs. Finley had become demanding of late.

Dare tossed his hat and gloves onto the sideboard and returned his attention to the mannerless creature across the room. She spoke the English of the upper classes, but with an odd, lilting rhythm.

Perhaps she was an expatriate from the continent. The accent, however, represented no language with which he was familiar.

Vexed, he strode across the room to the hearth where he stoked the fire, though the room was pleasantly warm. Her shoes lay, discarded, beneath the table. He straightened and realized that her eyes had followed him. He merely lifted his brows, the expression acknowledging her overt scrutiny and communicating his distaste for it.

“May I offer you a glass of wine?” she asked. “I have tried to drink the tea, but it is too awful.” Without waiting for his reply, she reached for a glass.

Her hands were slender, but her skin had been darkened by the sun, as though she spent most of her time outdoors. Definitely not a whore, then. Not a lady, either.

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POV–His or Hers, which do you prefer?

Monday, June 14th, 2010

I never thought much about POV (point-of-view) and the enormous difference it could make in a book until I began writing in earnest in 2007. It was only when I was going back and revising Sinful Surrender that I finally ‘got it’–POV can make or break a book.

As a reader, I loved it when Harlequin started including the male POV back in the… early 80s I wanna say. It could have been a little sooner, I’m not exactly sure. Before that, everything was in the heroine’s POV. I could never go back to that. Not ever. To me, I’d rather have the book slanted slightly more to the hero’s POV than the heroine’s. I’m not exactly sure why. I think it’s because I am a woman. I know how women think, so when I’m reading romances, I more interested in the male perspective. Yes, I do realize I’m usually getting a female’s perspective of a man’s way of thinking but I’ll take it. For me, a great romance novel is about me falling for the hero. If I fall for him, it will make sense to me why the heroine does.

One of my favourite heroes, Sebastian St. Vincent from Lisa Kleypas’s Devil in Winter, always had wonderful things going on in his POV:

“I…I’m sorry, but I would pr-prefer not to have intimate relations with you again.”

Stunned and offended, Sebastian set down his comb and turned to face her. Women never refused him. And the fact that Evie could do so after the pleasures of this morning was difficult to comprehend.

“You told me that you didn’t like to bed a woman more than once,” Evie reminded him half apologetically. “You said it would be a crashing bore.”

“Do I look bored to you?” he demanded, the towel doing little to conceal the outline of a roaring erection.

~~~

Marcus, the Earl of Westcliff from Lisa Kleypas’s It Happened One Autumn, is another favourite hero of mine. In this excerpt he’s hiding with the heroine, Lillian Bowman so she won’t be discovered out of her chambers by her father. He doesn’t like Lillian but his thoughts and action prove otherwise.

Holding her, breathing against her temple, Marcus became aware of an elusive scent, a faint flowery overture that he had vaguely registered at the rounders field. Hunting for it, he found a stronger concentration of the fragrance on her throat, where it was blood-heated and intoxicating. His mouth watered. Suddenly he wanted to touch his tongue to her tender white skin, wanted to rip her dress down the front and drag his mouth from her throat down to her toes.

His arm tightened around Lillian’s narrow frame, and his free hand compulsively sought her hips, exerting gentle but steady pressure to bring her closer to him. Oh yes. She was the perfect height, so tall that minimal adjustment was needed to match their bodies in just the right way. Agitation filled him, igniting sensual fire in the pulsing pathways of his veins. It would be so easy to take her like this, just pull her dress up and kick her legs apart.

And I certainly can’t forget Camden Saybrook, the Marquess of Tremaine from Sherry Thomas’s Private Arrangements. What Camden said and sometimes even how he acted were truly at odds with what he was thinking. Being in his POV was pivotal to understanding him and his feelings for his estranged wife, Gigi.

He checked his watch again. Fourteen hours and fifty-five minutes before he could have her again.

There are a slew more heroes whose POVs, to me, made the book. Made them heroes to truly be adored. The best are the cold, stoic kind. The heroine might see a flicker of something in his eyes but I need to get inside his head and read this thoughts.

What about you? Whose POV do you most connect with, the hero or the heroine?

Which POV do you prefer, hero or heroine's?

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Excerpt Thursday ~ Hook Me!

Thursday, June 10th, 2010

We’re back on track with Excerpt Thursdays. Let me know if you’ve been hooked or not. Click the cover to purchase Wanton Venture.

~*~*~

Wanton Venture ~ Elaine Lowe
Release Date: June 2, 2010 ~ Resplendence Publishing

“Thank you, Rigby. That will be all.” The butler took one last look at him then left, closing the door softly behind him.

Raymond bowed slightly, his eyes studying this mysterious woman.

She stood and inclined her head. “Greetings, Mr. Talbury. My name is Helena Gracechurch. I am happy to make your acquaintance.”

Good, Alan said nothing about the damned title.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Gracechurch. How may I help you?”

She indicated the seat across the desk and they both sat. She shuffled papers on the desk, and he took the time to really look at her. At first glance, she looked like a governess or an old auntie, with a high necked serviceable gown in a light shade of gray. Her dark red hair was up in a severe style, without any attempt to highlight her features. She wore spectacles as well, highly unfashionable. And he thought, given the lack of squinting lines around her eyes, very possibly unnecessary.

But all that could not hide the sprinkling of freckles across the line of her nose, proving that despite her rosy pale skin, she occasionally let the sun shine down on her face without a proper bonnet. The warm amber of her eyes could not be dulled but glimmered with intelligence. Her dress might be severe, but it could not hide an impressive bosom or her light and pleasing frame.

Most of all, the tight bun she wore had let a single red curl fall against her neck, and his gaze was immediately drawn to it. Regardless of his respect for women or his attempts to think of this as a business meeting, for a long moment, all he could think about was getting that hair loose and getting his hands into it.

“So, Mr. Talbury, Mr. Saksville has told me that you have considerable—if unconventional—experience in the Navy during the war.”

Raymond smiled. Unconventional was a very politic way of putting it, Alan.

“Yes, Miss Gracechurch, I’ve commanded my share of ships during the recent conflicts.”

She paused for a moment and a smile almost touched her lips. There was something in her eyes that he could not quite identify, though for a moment it reminded him of passion. “Yes, well…have you had any experience with cargo vessels rather than military ships?”

He thought of the months he’d acted as a common sailor in the French-controlled Spanish navy, hauling cargo on supply ships, and acting as crew on captured merchant vessels. “Yes, I have worked on cargo vessels, though not in a command capacity.” Unless the cargo was black powder meant to blow up a bridge over the river Coa. On that tiny boat, he’d definitely been in command.

She nodded and made a note on the page she held in front of her. He wondered how many men she had evaluated for this position, or if he was the first. Noting the very slight tremor in her hand, he thought it was highly probably he was the first.

Had she ever been kissed? What man would be lucky enough to caress those pink lips with his own? To taste her tongue, or taste her other lips, to open the virgin fruit of her loins and savor her intoxicating innocence. Raymond shifted uncomfortably and tried to focus on listening to her words rather than his imaginings.

“You also are half-Spanish, correct?”

He repressed the urge to groan. Why were the English so bloody narrow-minded? His mother would be most interested in an account of this conversation when he returned to their Bristol lodgings, the Rose and Sail Inn. She had insisted on accompanying him, having no desire to be left at the gargantuan Belforth House in London, all alone with disreputable servants and the threat of creditors at the door.

“Yes, my mother is Spanish. Doña Maria Katrina Escobar de Santos.” A smile broke out over Miss Gracechurch’s features, setting her eyes alight.

“Excellent!”

Rarely had anyone been pleased about his lineage It had practically caused his grandfather to disown his father, and only sheer laziness to bother with the legal details meant that Raymond himself was now the Earl. “Might I ask why this is such a pleasing prospect, Miss Gracechurch?”

She blushed, a rosy bloom that crept up her neck and stained her cheeks in the most becoming manner. Raymond swallowed, thinking how lovely she would look in the throes of passion, her bright eyes filled with desire and her cheeks stained with the evidence of her passion.

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Posted in Excerpt Thursdays | 13 Comments »

Excitement and blatant self-promotion

Tuesday, June 8th, 2010

I’m late today, so I decided to do something quick and easy–yep promote my next release six months early. :D I had an absolute blast writing A TASTE OF DESIRE. What’s it about?  Here’s the blurb:

SHE CHALLENGED HIS PRIDE

Lady Amelia Bertram may have a reputation as the most brazen beauty of the ton, but she shocks even herself when she accidently—and loudly—derides one of society’s most eligible bachelors in the middle of a crowded ballroom. The timing of her faux pas couldn’t be worse, for her father is seeking someone to take her off his hands that very night…

HE CHALLENGED HER WILLPOWER

But when Thomas Armstrong overhears the so-called “Lady” Amelia slandering his sexual prowess in public, he cannot help but accept the dare implicit in her words. To her father’s great delight, he offers to take her to his secluded country estate—properly chaperoned, of course—to teach the girl a lesson in ladylike behavior…

If you read SINFUL SURRENDER, you’ll recognize Amelia as the “lady” who gave Thomas (heroine’s brother) the setdown of the century toward the end of the book. Well, obviously, that means the two were meant for each other. Who could have ever thought Amelia could top that setdown, but she does, throwing down the proverbial gauntlet in this ballroom scene…

“And not only is he kind,” Dawn said in her girlish titter, continuing in his relentless praise, “but he is rumored to be an extraordinary lover.”

Amelia’s brows climbed to hitherto unscaled heights as she eyed the furiously blushing blonde. And just when she’d equated Dawn Hawkins with a wilting violet. Proper young ladies did not lend themselves to such discourse. She certainly could, but then she’d never endeavored to fit in with the ladies of the peerage, many of whom were just sheep in a herd where titles, connections, and wealth led with uncompromising rigor.

“Posh, surely a rumor Lord Armstrong himself helped to circulate.”

Once again, three pairs of eyes, all in varying shades of brown, widened and turned on her as if she had just taken over the pulpit and declared to every Sunday worshipper supplicant in prayer that God was just a myth. Blasphemous!

Yay! I received my cover.

“Men tend to think very well of themselves when it comes to such matters. I am quite certain one is no more proficient than the other, though invariably it’s the handsome ones who like to boast the advantage.” And Amelia imagined that the viscount was just such a man.

The women stood mute. Each appeared to be digesting what they’d just heard. Amelia wasn’t a stranger to certain male and female intimacies. How could she forget the rather wet kiss Lord Finley had pressed upon her in the garden at the Walsh ball. He had assumed that with a face that could have coined the phrase beautiful as sin, she would welcome his advances. His shins had paid dearly for his presumption. Good looks did not necessarily equate to skillfulness as a lover. They might one day discover those truths and be much wiser for it, though she was certain some poor gentleman would topple from his pedestal in the process.

“Then why do so many women eagerly follow him to his bed?” Lady Jane’s face climbed three shades of red, the question emerging hushed in a mixture of reticence and urgent curiosity.

At that moment, the music crested as the piano, violin, coronet and cello reached a melodious crescendo. With her recent encounter with the man fueling her renewed dislike, Amelia did not allow the intrusion of the noise to cause her to pause for even an instant. Instead, she raised her voice to be heard above the final notes.

“The same reason you would gladly accept his request for a dance. Women are easily charmed by his dimples and handsome visage. Moreover, the man is a viscount and said to be one of the richest peers in all of England. On paper, he is the ideal catch. In reality, the man is no more than a rake. Lord Armstrong is the type of man who is too self-involved to care about the pleasure of others—in any regard. I would stake my dowry he does not come remotely close to his rumored sexual prowess.”

The three ladies stared at her wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Their gazes shifted to the area beyond her bare shoulder just as a cacophony of female gasps and low baritone snickers punctured the silence.

A silence that had not existed only moments before.

Amelia spun quickly on the heel of her patent leather shoe to confront a scene only fit for some ghastly tableau.

Coiffed matrons and properly turned out debutantes wore scandalized looks of disbelief.

Gentlemen hid their smiles behind pristine white gloved hands.

Not one note of music rent the air to soften words ripe for public reproach.

Dear Lord, when had the music stopped? Her gaze darted about frantically. And when had the guests surrounding her become mutes? She could not even sigh in relief when the harmonious melody of a waltz rang out like a rescuing cavalry arriving fifteen minutes too late to stop the slaughter. Amelia could not recall the last time she’d felt this thoroughly exposed. So stricken and besieged. So completely mortified.

Never.

Then to punctuate the totality of her humiliation, the crowd before her parted as if Moses himself brought his staff down upon the waters of the Red Sea. Hushed tones could barely contain their glee. And condemnation. Through a sea of bejeweled gowns and black waistcoats strode the tall, commanding form of none other than the man whose prowess she’d just eviscerated in the full hearing of the ton.

So every month until the release date, January 4, 2011, I’ll post an excerpt. Hopefully, soon, A TASTE OF DESIRE will make it onto your TBB list. ;)

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Review: Lessons in French

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010

Lessons in French
Author: Laura Kinsale
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Pub. Date: January 26, 2010
ISBN-13: 978-1402237010
Retail: $7.99
480 pages

She is, after all, Lady Callista Taillefaire, jilted three times in spite of her fortune and her father’s best efforts to find her a husband. Now her greatest desire is to win the silver cup at the agricultural fair with her gigantic prize bull, Hubert. But when Callie’s only old flame returns from his long and mysterious absence in France, her quiet spinster life turns upside down.

Dark-eyed, elegant and a magnet for trouble, Trevelyan d’Augustin has given Callie lessons in more than his language in the past. Her father put a harsh and humiliating end to any dreams of romance with a French émigré scoundrel, however, and Callie never thought to see him again. Swallowing his pride, Trev has finally come home to care for his failing mother, but his secrets and misdeeds follow him.

Callie soon remembers that nothing is ever peaceful with Trev around. The enormous Hubert vanishes into thin air, one of her former jilts comes back to woo her in a most determined manner–and her bull takes the town by storm! In the midst of these misadventures, Callie finds herself falling in love again with the worst possible man for her…

~*~*~


Kinsale fans everywhere will be enchanted and newcomers will be eager for more.

I am a newcomer to Laura Kinsale’s work, and Lessons in French was the perfect introduction. From the first chapter, her delightful voice and heartening tone leap straight off the page:

He took her to the bed in a swift move, pressing her backward until he tumbled her atop the counterpane. He leaned over her, braced on his hands, looking down at her face. “I want to see your stockings,” he growled. “The plain white ones.”

Her lips parted, as if to make a refusal, and then she blinked. Her puzzled look only made her more adorable to him.

“Yes, I was driven demented in your closet.” He bent down to kiss her. “I’m passionately in love with your hosiery.”

This story is crafted with just the right balance of tenderness and sensuality and it didn’t take long to sense that Kinsale is indeed a master at her craft. First, because this is a time period we see often in historical romance, but it felt the opposite of contrived. The setting, choice of character and conflict struck me as fresh, revitalized. Second, the gradual romantic build-up many authors of the genre have left behind is also given new life with Lady Callie Taillefaire and Trevelyn, Duc de Monceaux.

Callie is instantly likeable—a self-proclaimed wallflower but no less spirited or a capable farm girl of wealth and rank with a tendency to daydream reminiscent of Austen’s Catherine Morland. Because she is so clever, Callie’s streak of naïveté at times seems forced, especially in regard to her assumption that Trev’s feelings for her are fabricated. This small objection to this story’s protagonist in no way dims Callie’s identifiable nature. Trev is a sometimes unsteady mix of gentleman with a penchant for devilry, a hybrid I very much enjoyed. Raised an Englishman with staunch French heritage, he is a man caught between two worlds and feels society’s consequences despite his high rank. His relationship with his French mother is one of the most touching of the story. Even while his past “sins” are still vague to the reader, he is redeemable though his long-standing desire to be with Callie is crushed by his history. In the end, he is the most noble and charismatic hero I’ve read in some time.

Lessons in French is sure to entertain historical readers with a dash of intrigue, layered with elements of masquerade and humor. The love story is lighthearted one moment and heart-wrenching the next:

She felt his arm slip about her waist. It seemed unreal, as if she stood in a dream where nothing made sense. “Yet?” She felt close to tears. “You’re going back to France?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He leaned his forehead down, resting it against hers. “Would you let me steal a kiss before I go?”

“Why?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Because my mother says I love you.” His lips grazed her temple lightly.

The secondary characters, whether it be the cook or Callie’s prized bull, Hubert, are adorable. My only qualm with the writing is the occasional tendency to tell instead of show. The villages and residences of Shelford and Hereford are woven with serene but no less down-to-earth grace. Where historicals often seem fanciful and faraway, this book feels authentic. It’s difficult to define why, other than the fact that it is written with so deft and loving a hand. Kinsale fans everywhere will be enchanted and newcomers like me will be eager for more.

Rating: 8 (Very Good)

Heat-Level: 3: (Sensual)

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Review: How To Seduce a Sinner

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010

How to Seduce a Sinner
Author: Adrienne Basso
Publisher: Kensington / Zebra
Pub. Date: January 1, 2010
ISBN-13: 978-1420104332
Retail: $6.99
352 pages

Dorothea Ellingham is waiting for the man who can ignite a spark of consuming passion with just a kiss. For when that happens, she’ll know she’s found the one. But after three suitors miserably fail her test, she’s about to lose all hope until she lays eyes on Carter Grayson, Marquess of Atwood. His devilish good looks and charm send her pulse racing – and when he kisses her, she finally finds what she’s been craving . . .


Carter Grayson is in no hurry to wed. But when he meets Dorothea, he’s captivated by the urgent need she sets off in him. Knowing he must have her, he proposes. But as they soon discover, a union forged on passion alone is never enough-and explosive desires can often lead to love…

~*~*~

Charming from beginning to end, Adrienne Basso presents two lovable characters with much to learn about love. HOW TO SEDUCE A SINNER will seduce you into loving these protagonists like they are close friends.

Dorothea Ellingham sets out to find a husband and has prepared a test to insure there will be passion in her marriage. Her test revolves around the quality of kisses she receives based on her “kiss-o-meter”. Who could predict that her test, and a certain gentleman, would knock her socks off? It is lust at first sight for Dorothea and when she spies the handsome Carter Grayson. He sets her pulse racing with just a glance. She wants a man she can manipulate and she is certain Carter is an unmovable force to be reckoned with. The intensity of his passion makes her feel vulnerable but she is made of strong stuff; she just needs to redirect her thinking to achieve control in the marriage.

Enter Viscount Carter Grayson, who must be wed by the end of the season, per his ducal father’s decree. When he observes lovely Dorothea kissing other gentlemen he thinks she may suit him well as a wife. All of their plans ignite with one searing kiss that leaves them stunned beyond belief. Carter is convinced he must have her for his wife when he discovers her passion matches his own. She is an exquisite temptation he cannot resist. What begins as a marriage based on passion soon has our lovers succumbing to love.

She felt her confidence soar, knowing he found her attractive, desirable. After his odd behavior this afternoon, it was the affirmation she needed, the assurance she craved. Dorothea reached up and ran the edge of her finger along his jaw. The surface was smooth but when she reversed the direction of her hand she could feel the rough edge of his whiskers. It was a strangely erotic sensation.

He put his mouth to hers, nibbling her lower lip until she opened to him. Relaxing, Dorothea curled her tongue against his. She adored his kisses. Her hands came up to cling to his broad shoulders as the familiar excitement flared deep in her belly, making her feel hot all over.

HOW TO SEDUCE A SINNER is a fast paced and memorable love story. With delightful characters, both lead and secondary, Adrienne Basso combines humor, passion, wit and drama in one beautifully written story. Reminiscent of Julia Quinn, Basso is a master storyteller whose characters are well rounded, realistic, and extremely likeable. HOW TO SEDUCE A SINNER is a book I would highly recommend.

Rating: 8 (Very Good)

Heat-Level: 4: (Hot)

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Alice Audrey is Moving In

Monday, February 15th, 2010

Today, please welcome my friend and ex-Avon Fanlit cohort, Alice Audrey, whose first book, MOVING IN was just released. Alice generously agreed to a virtual sit down with me here on the Blog.

~*~*~

Question
Tell us about Moving In. What was your inspiration for this book?

Answer
It started with Suzie’s House – a bit of serial fiction I post on my blog every Friday.  The book had to tie in with it and use some of the same characters, at least peripherally, but be able to stand on it’s own.  When I hit on the idea of neighbors and friends, the character Diane was born.

Diane and Suzie make good foils for one another.  Both of them are the Susie Homemaker type.  They enjoy cooking and crafts, and remodeling.  But Suzie is quite comfortable with her roll of boarding house owner while Diane struggles against the idea of becoming a housewife.

From there I found Trigvey, the man who would seem to be Diane’s perfect match.  As a doctor with no outstanding loans, he can easily afford to let her stay home, and needs the kind of attention he can’t get any other way.  They enjoy one another’s company and value one another, but when push comes to shove, both are afraid to take on the roles a marriage would require of them.

Question
How long have you been writing?

Answer
I’m almost afraid to answer that.  34 years.  Yes, I’ve very stubborn, and started young.

Question
I love call stories. Can you tell us yours?

Answer
Moving In was suggested by my editor.  You know how you tell editors and agents about your web presence while at conventions?  Well, they really do check them out.  Vicky Reed didn’t just read my blog, she got hooked on Suzie’s House.  She asked if I had anything that tied in with the series.  I didn’t, but it was easy for me to come up with something.

~~~

Moving In
Author: Alice Audrey
Publisher: Wild Rose Press
Pub. Date: February 2010
Novella

When Diane and Trigvey move into the same building on the same day, more than their suitcases get tangled up.

Trigvey never once doubted his calling to be a doctor, but an accident in the ER has him doubting himself. Diane’s willingness to listen helps him get his head on straight. If only he felt worthy of a woman like her.

Diane is the kind of woman who would love to be someone’s wife. Not a trophy wife, or simply married, but the kind of wife whose job is to stay home and take care of the family, even if the family is only a husband. She feeds Trigvey and consoles him, and doesn’t even know she has him wrapped around her finger. Jilted for a career-woman and raised by a bitter divorcée, Diane no longer believes in that dream. It’s up to Trigvey to convince her it could still be real, if she chooses him.

~~~

Question
I know you’ve written single titles in the past. What’s the biggest difference between that and writing this novella?

Answer
Actually, I’ve written short stories, novellas, category romance, single titles and epics.  I’ve written science fiction, romantic suspense, historical romance, and romantic comedies.  This was the first “sweet” book I’d ever written, and the first time I worked closely with an editor.  I found both somewhat challenging, but the differences in the process were no greater than the differences between any of my other books.

Question
Can you share an excerpt of Moving In you haven’t posted anywhere else before.

Answer
Trigvey stared at the ceiling. He needed things. A lot of things. He’d lost control of himself and scared Diane off, which made him feel useless.

His thoughts circled endlessly as day faded into twilight. When someone knocked on his door, he knew who it was, but couldn’t imagine why she’d come back.

He didn’t mean to bound to his feet, and certainly had no intention of rushing to the door, but arrived short of breath and threw the door open.

Diane didn’t meet his eyes. “I… um… Would you like something to eat?”

Did she feel sorry for him? Not that it made much difference. He’d eat anything to be with her.

“Yeah. I’d like that a lot. You didn’t cook for me, did you?”

“I was going to cook for myself anyway,” she said.

She led the way down the stairs.

“You really are going to have to let me take you out sometime,” he said quietly.

She didn’t respond and he wondered if she’d heard over the quiet clattering of their footsteps on the steps. “Some place nice,” he continued.

Still, she didn’t say anything, but when she opened the door to her apartment, a rolling wave of hearth and home poured out.

He glanced at the sofa. She’d added a throw pillow done in some kind of silky fabric with an Oriental design to match the rug. A bookcase stood where his belongings had been.

She hadn’t wasted time erasing every trace of his presence.

Question
I’m the type of reader who has to be taken with the hero. Why will readers love your hero?

Answer
Trigvey is quite the mix.  When we first meet him, he looks like a total bad boy; sunglasses, ripped jeans, three days growth of beard.  He’s arrogant and irritated.  Diane thinks he might be a bum.  The next time we see him he’s wearing surgical scrubs and is wrung out body and soul.

He’s an ER doctor under particularly high pressure due to mismanagement at the hospital.  When a simple mistake has disastrous results, he questions the foundations of his life.  He really tortures himself over it.

Diane’s love redeems him.  She helps him forgive himself and get his priorities clear.  He’s smart enough to know what she does for him, but baffled about how to return the favor when she seems so well put together.  That won’t keep him from trying.

Question
What’s coming up next for you?

Answer
I’m working on a follow up book using more characters from Suzie’s House.  This time the mother of a boy who was abandoned to an abusive father turns out the be the heroine.  Yeah, I like challenges.

~*~*~

Alice will be with us today to take your questions and comments, and she’ll be giving away an electronic copy of MOVING IN to one lucky commenter.

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Posted in Authors, Giveaways, Interviews | 32 Comments »

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