Art imitates life

 

Some of you may have noticed that many of my stories feature characters with disabilities. This is a topic close to my heart. I have lived most of my life with chronic illness, and have a brother who is blind, several relatives either permanent or temporary wheelchair users, a son with brain damage and various family members challenged by mental illness of one kind or another.

The idea for the hero in my latest newsletter subscriber story came out of my day job. I’m a consultant for a firm of plain English writers and trainers, and we did a field trip to the laboratory of a new client — a medical research organisation. Their mission is to solve unsolvable medical problems. The first of these, so the founder told us, was non-invasive treatment of strawberry birthmarks. These are disfiguring vascular tumours that mostly go away of their own accord,  but can sometimes grow in places that cause damage and can even threaten the child’s life. The treatment used to be unpleasant, invasive, and costly. And now, thanks to this research group, it is non-invasive and cheap.

Which set me wondering how a Regency family whose child had a strawberry birthmark might have coped. Eric, or Wreck as his family called him, was the result. In my story, he was the third son of an aristocratic family, sent as a baby to a remote estate, and raised by a loving Nanny, with occasional visits from his mother who was horrified by him.

Then the second son died, and Wreck needed to be retrieved in case he might one day succeed to the title. The mother sent him to Italy for surgical treatment. My story begins when he comes home. Subscribe to my newsletter if you want to know what happens next. I’m sending the newsletter out this week.

Sunday Spotlight on Julie Johnstone’s <i>When a Scot Gives His Heart</i>

Sunday Spotlight on Julie Johnstone’s When a Scot Gives His Heart

Congratulations to today’s guest, Julie Johnstone, on the release of her seventh book in her Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts series.

When a Scot Gives His Heart

Love touched them. Treachery divided them. One night of passion binds them.

Betrayed by her father, Marsaili Campbell risks her life to recover what he has stolen from her. But when she’s kidnapped and wagered away, she has no one to help her escape other than the very man she’s spent the past three years trying to forget—Highland warrior Callum Grant. She once gave her heart and her innocence to the handsome Scot, only to regret her naive decisions. Still, with more enemies than she can battle alone, she needs an ally, even if she must hide the truth of her circumstances from him.

Laird Callum Grant thrust his clan into war for the love of a woman, only to lose her forever. But when the woman he believed dead appears at his clan’s tourney in dire trouble, there’s no denying Marsaili has been alive all this time. With his clan weakened from the years of raids and battles, however, he cannot afford to do anything that would ruin the betrothal he’s made to secure his clan’s future. Yet he can’t turn away from the woman who once beguiled him body and soul.

As Callum and Marsaili embark on a dangerous journey, each touch, each look, each clash of wills reignites their desire in an all-consuming inferno. But the secret Marsaili keeps and the duty that shackles Callum are threatening to destroy them. That is, unless they can learn that love, once truly given, is unbreakable.

Excerpt

 “Marsaili?” The undeniable concern in Callum’s tone, almost undid Marsaili. “What is it, lass? What’s vexing ye? Are ye afraid? I’ll protect ye, dunnae fash yerself.”

The emotions she’d been holding within her roiled. “Stop!” she barked, his concern shredding the invisible binds that held her together. “I kinnae—” She gulped. “I kinnae take yer kindness. I dunnae—” She shook her head, choking on her words. Gulping again, she continued, tears now streaming down her cheeks. “I dunnae ken what to think or what to do. Or what is truly right. I’m alone, all alone in this. I have to be strong.” She pressed her lips together on saying more, on saying too much.

Suddenly, she was being turned around to face Callum. His hands felt like fire pokers on her skin. Or perhaps it was her? Was she feverish? Her heart pounded a desperate beat, and that same frenzied desperation sent her blood rushing through her veins to roar in her ears. Her stomach felt hollow, and as his gaze pierced her very soul, he said, “Let me help ye. Tell me what ye fear.”

The truth clawed its way up, and she worried she’d not be able to hold it in, so she did the only thing she could. She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her heart lurched as he stiffened. He was going to push her away! But a growl seemed to come from deep within him, and he delved his hands into her hair to cradle her head and slant his mouth over hers. The kiss tore through every defense she possessed. It was violent in its passion and blissful in the way it seared her from the inside out.

Her hands had been clenched at her sides, but as his tongue slid inside her mouth and his heat consumed her, she could not hold back. She ran her hands up his thick arms to his shoulders and dug her fingers into the muscle there. Their tongues met, swirled, and retreated, as he ravished her mouth and her senses. Every memory she had worked so hard to repress flooded her. Each touch they had shared. Each kiss. The moment they had become one. She whimpered, when his lips found her neck, and then he stilled and jerked away.

Buy Links

Amazon – https://goo.gl/Tw5i7q

B&N – https://goo.gl/kmWw1j

iBooks – https://goo.gl/9CX35L

Kobo – https://goo.gl/WfDhTf

Google Play – https://goo.gl/s1Jy8X

Meet Julie Johnston

As a little girl I loved to create fantasy worlds and then give all my friends roles to play. Of course, I was always the heroine! Books have always been an escape for me and brought me so much pleasure, but it didn’t occur to me that I could possibly be a writer for a living until I was in a career that was not my passion. One day, I decided I wanted to craft stories like the ones I loved, and with a great leap of faith I quit my day job and decided to try to make my dream come true. I discovered my passion, and I have never looked back. I feel incredibly blessed and fortunate that I have been able to make a career out of sharing the stories that are in my head! I write Scottish Medieval Romance, Regency Romance, and I have even written a Paranormal Romance book. And because I have the best readers in the world, I have hit the USA Today bestseller list several times.

You can download my Medieval Romance, Christmas in the Scot’s Arms, to try for FREE. Just visit my website and download your copy from the home page. www.juliejohnstoneauthor.com.

 

Books to read

One thing about being under the weather is having time to catch up on the TBR pile and in the last month I’ve read a few I’d like to recommend.

The Long Way Home by Jessica Cale: Cale never disappoints. I’ve read books 1, 2, and 4 of the Southwark Saga, and every book is different: different mood, different characters, different emotions in the reader. The Long Way Home is a darling of a book, with a sweet hero and heroine I adored. Jake is still my favourite Cale hero so far, but Alice is my top Cale heroine. Set against a different background than Cale’s other books, The Long Way Home takes the Southwark bargirl into the centre of the corrupt and dissolute French court, beautifully rendered and meticulously researched. As a reader, I trusted Cale would get Alice and Jack safely out, but when I forgot I was reading, I was really worried for them.

The Islands of Chaldea by Diana Wynne Jones, completed by Ursula Jones: I was shocked and dismayed when I heard this great writer had died. Her stories have been enriching my life since my teenage years. I’ve reread my favourites many times, and always eagerly seized on her new releases. But I didn’t expect another one eight years after her death. Thanks to her sister, who pored over the draft looking for the clues that would help her finish the story, I spent one delightful evening following Aileen, her aunt, and other assorted characters on a quest to rescue the son of the High King and reunite the islands. It is a quest story with the typical Wynne Jones down-to-earth fantasy world and quirky, very human, characters. Except for the cat, who is very much a cat. I have no idea where Wynne Jones left off and Jones began. The story is seamless.

Past Crimes, by Ashley Gardner: I’d already bought and read ‘The Necklace Affair’ as a novella, since I love the Captain Lacey Regency Mysteries, but I grabbed this when I found out it had two other novellas from two other series by the same author. ‘A Soupcon of Poison’ introduces the characters in the Victorian series The Below Stairs Mysteries, which the author is writing as Jennifer Ashley. The heroine is a chef. The hero is a mysterious figure who moves between upstairs and downstairs, and whose charming ways both intrigue and worry the heroine. When her employer dies after eating a meal she prepared, be prepared for some interesting twists and turns on the way to discovery of the real murderer. “Blood Debts’ is set in Ancient Rome, and follows the ex-gladiator Leonadis as he tries to clear himself of murder, look after others who might be accused, find the real murderer, and protect Cassia, the capable scribe-slave that some unknown benefactor has sent to look after him.

I read a novella a night when I couldn’t sleep, and I’m glad they weren’t longer or I would not have gone back to bed. Excellent stories, well researched and well written.

The Revenge of the Corsairs by Elizabeth Ellen Carter: I’ve been putting off reading this because I knew from the first Corsair book that when I started I’d be hooked. And I was. And I lost two evenings. Captive of the Corsairs saw the rescue of that book’s heroine and her cousin, Laura. In Revenge, we turn our focus to Laura. Traumatised and pregnant, she is not ready to accept the love of Elias, one of her rescuers. A better hero was never penned. He deserved to win the woman he loved, but Carter didn’t make it easy. Laura’s struggles to recover her equilibrium made total sense, but by the time she makes her choice it might be too late. Rabia, the third wife of Laura’s captor and rapist, has lost her own son and wants Laura’s. You can get this from the blurb, but I’ll say no more. I loved this book, and am impatiently waiting for the next in the series.

Rough beginnings for my contemporary couple

My contemporary novella for the Authors of Main Street summer collection wants to be a romantic comedy, I think. I’ve interviewed the hero and heroine. I’ve charted their ‘hero’s journey’. I’ve run a heap of dialogue through my head.  And now I’ve written the first scene of what is tentatively called ‘Beached’. Actually, it might be the third or fourth scene, after Zachary Henderson and Nikki Watson meet again. The story will be mostly set at a beach resort in New Zealand, where my heroine has invented a summer residence that needs fixing up and my hero is working as a builder.

Eighteen months ago, New York

Nicola Watson scanned the crowd in the coffee shop. No sign of Mr Michael ‘I’m-Too-Sexy-For-A-New-York-Courtroom’ O’Neal. It was the last straw.

Yes, she was five minutes late. Okay. Eight minutes. Which was totally not her fault, and another reason why she was irritated.

But O’Neal had asked for this meeting, so he should have waited. If he turned up at all.

Ever since she’d received his note, she’d been second guessing what he might be up to. Third, fourth, and fifth guessing. That was the primary reason for her mood. She shouldn’t be here, and yet here she had not been able to resist.

She and Mr Designer-Suit-Fits-Like-A-Glove were not currently on the opposite side in litigation, and last time he had won. But she hadn’t given up. The O’Neals might have been innocent of the particular charges World Watch had brought against them, but somewhere their global chains of hotels were breaking environmental laws for short term profit. And one day she expect to face Bedroom-Eyes O’Neal again, and win.

His note said he had information she might find useful. Yeah, right. She wouldn’t trust an O’Neal as far as she could throw one of them, and every single one of them was six foot plus and built like a lazy bookworm’s wet dream.

Lots of money for gym equipment and personal trainers, her grumpy self pointed out. At that moment, something in the crowded room hooked her roving gaze and dragged it back. That man. The one with the beard. The one waving a greeting.

The scruffy denim jacket over a coloured t-shirt was a far cry from O’Neal’s usual crisply tailored suits and shirts, and the pirate beard was a further disguise, though something in her gut purred its approval. It was a fiery red, shades brighter than his auburn hair, currently tousled as if he’d been out in a strong wind. Or just risen from bed.

The eyes hadn’t changed. A bright blue, currently levelled at hers as she crossed the room and took the seat opposite him.

“Ms. Watson. Thank you for coming.” The voice was the same, too. North Eastern United States Preppie, with a touch of low gravel.

Nicola inclined her head in greeting. “Mr. O’Neal.”  He called the meeting. Let him start it.

“Coffee?” he asked, and performed the magic of attracting a waitress from the other side of the crowd so he could place her order.

The t-shirt featured a sailing ship, with a motto written across it. “A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.”

“Expecting storms?” Nicola asked.

O’Neal smiled. “I’d be a fool if I didn’t.” The smile vanished and he leaned forward, dropping his voice as if the crowd was full of spies with recorders. “I’m leaving, Miss Watson. But before I go, I wanted to redress the balance a little.”

“Leaving?” What did that mean? “Leaving New York?”

“Confidentially? Just between you and me?” He must have caught her slight withdrawal, because he added, “Nothing unethical or illegal, but I’d rather it remained a private matter. At least for a few weeks.”

Nicola nodded, her curiosity overriding her caution.

“I’m leaving it all. New York. The practice of law. The hotel business. The O’Neal family.” He chewed at his upper lip in a moment of indecision, then held out his hand. “Miss Watson, allow me to introduce myself. Zachary Henderson, deck hand on… it doesn’t matter. You get the idea.”

She was floundering to keep up. “Zachary is your second name.”

“And Henderson was my mother’s, so not a big leap.”

The coffee arrived, and Nicola grabbed a handful of coins to give the girl a tip before O’Neal, no, Henderson. He waited while she added some low-Cal sweetener. “Redress the balance?” she asked. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Henderson let those gorgeous blue eyes roam around the room before answering. “Remember in court, when I pulled out the information that proved the hotels you named in your suit were all compliant with international treaties?”

Nicola nodded. She didn’t need reminding. She still wondered how World Watch had got it so wrong.

“I saw your reaction. You were taken by surprise. But your colleague wasn’t, and that got me thinking. And checking.” He looked around again, then pulled a plastic sleeve from inside his jacket. “Here. I’ve printed enough to get you started, but most of what I found is on the thumb drive. Conversations. Emails. Enough to show that the law suit you and I fought was a set up by the O’Neal hotel chain and World Watch.”

No way! But on the heels of denial came belief, as pieces that had never fitted fell into place. And her unsurprised colleague Tyler — her fiance — he was at the heart of it.

Henderson was silent, allowing her time to absorb his claims. “Thank you,” she managed to say. “If what you say is true, I am pleased to know.”

“I figured I owed you.” He stood, and held out his hand, gripping hers firmly. “It has been nice knowing you, Miss Watson. Good luck.”

“And to you, Mr. Henderson,” she replied. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Another fleeting grin. “I have to figure out what that is, first.”

Nicola sat and finished her coffee after he had left. If Henderson was right, she’d been played for a country rube. She might be a country girl from little New Zealand, but she was not a complete fool. As they would find out. She slipped the thumb drive into an inner pocket of her jacket, and put the plastic sleeve into her hand bag. First, home to read the evidence. Then a conversation with Tyler.

Sunday spotlight on Vicky Adin and her historical fiction

The exciting aspect of writing historical fiction inspired by immigrants is that they all came from somewhere else. I get to learn about and write about all these different places, and since we travel a lot, I can also visit many of these places as well.

Daniel, the protagonist in the time-slip novel, ‘The Disenchanted Soldier’, I tracked down in Derbyshire, even though he was born in Liverpool. The delight in finding family headstones, family houses, and streets named after family members will stay with me always. Follow the researcher as she uncovers the family secrets.

Megan, of ‘The Cornish Knot’, is a modern Kiwi woman through and through. It’s not until she is sent the journal her great-grandmother wrote a century earlier does she learn about her family connections in Cornwall. The journal takes her on a journey from Cornwall to Paris, Florence and Venice as she unravels the secrets Isabel took to her grave. I grew up in Cornwall, so it was even more of a delight to revisit my old haunts and remember my childhood while I was developing a totally different story-line.

Charlotte is English. Preferring her roses to people, Charlotte doesn’t make life easy for her counter-protagonist, Emma. She never quite admits where she was born to the journalist as she delves into the story behind the famous author in ‘The Art of Secrets’.

Lace-making is the skill Brigid uses to find a new life for herself away from the poverty and starvation of her native Ireland. She tries first in Australia, but has better success in New Zealand in ‘The Girl from County Clare’.

If you have a sweet tooth, then Gwenna’s story is for you. The young confectioner is determined to bring her Pa’s dreams to life despite her step-brother Elias, despite Black Jack Jones, and despite being young and female in Victorian New Zealand. She is so determined to succeed she is blind to the obvious and risks losing that which matters to her the most.

My current WIP doesn’t stray beyond the streets of Auckland during the Edwardian era, as the children in ‘The Girl from County Clare’ and ‘Gwenna’ grow up and forge a new life.

Meet Vicky Adin

Multi-award-winning historical fiction author, Vicky Adin is a genealogist in love with history and words.

After decades of research Vicky has combined her skills to weave together the intriguing secrets she uncovered with historical events in a way that brings the past to life.

Fascinated by the 19th Century pioneers who undertook hazardous journeys to find a better life, especially the women, Vicky draws her characters from real life stories: characters such as Brigid, the Irish lacemaker in ‘The Girl from County Clare and Gwenna, the Welsh confectioner, or Megan who discovers much about herself when she traces her family tree in ‘The Cornish Knot’.

Vicky Adin holds a MA(Hons) in English and Education. She is an avid reader of historical novels, family sagas and contemporary women’s stories and enjoys travelling.

For more information, visit her website http://www.vickyadin.co.nz

The Realm of Silence – coming in May

I am biting the bullet and committing to publishing The Realm of Silence in May. The book blurb is now up on my book page, and in the next couple of days I’ll set up a preorder through Smashwords for iBooks, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. Too early for Amazon, but that will come later in the month.

So go take a look (by clicking on the link), and see what you think. Meanwhile, here’s an excerpt and the cover.

Gil was as quick to understand her now as when they ran wild over the lands around Longford. Susan made short work of discovering what Clementine didn’t want her aunt to know, and re-joined Gil by the stables.

“This governess. Was she slightly built, of below average height, and dark haired?” she asked, then, at Gil’s nod, “We need to find out whether a boy hired a post chaise, or possibly a young woman with a French accent. I have no idea whether there is a connection, but apparently the French music teacher is also missing, and she fits that description.”

She had thought he would take over the questioning, but he seemed content to allow her to coax answers out of the stable master, confining himself to looming at her left shoulder.

Looming was unnecessary, however. The stable master remembered the French lady on Saturday morning. “Just the lady on her own, ma’am. She wanted a post chaise for Newcastle, but I told her we didn’t go no further than York. She could get another there, I told her.”

“What of other travellers that same morning? Was there a boy, perhaps around fifteen or sixteen? He may have had a young lady with him of a similar age? Perhaps also travelling to York or Newcastle?”

The stable master was shaking his head when another ostler spoke up. “I saw the boy. With a girl, he was, but I didn’t see her proper. The boy came in and rented the post chaise while the girl waited out the front. It was while you was with that dook’s party, Ben. For York, but they only took ’un as far as Stamford. Joe—he’s the post boy, ma’am—he came back last night.”

The stable master nodded once, a swift jerk of the chin. “Right.”

“We will speak with the post boy,” Gil decreed. But the post boy was out on a job to a nearby town. He would return within the hour, and the stable master would keep him against Susan’s return.

“I will be back in one hour,” she said. “Thank you for your help.” She repeated the thanks to Gil before setting off at a brisk pace for the school. The fear jittered inside, but she quelled it. She had a lead, which was more than she’d had half an hour ago. If the French lady was the music mistress. If the boy was Patrice in disguise. If the two young people the ostler saw were her runaways. The whole trail of ‘ifs’ depended on Gil’s observation. If the girl in Stamford was Amy, the rest fell into place.

This time, she would demand to see Amy’s room and to talk to some of the other girls. She also had questions to ask the head mistress about the French music teacher.

The presence at her elbow impinged on her conscious mind. Gil, still looming, his long stride easily keeping pace with her rapid steps.

She stopped. “Did you want something, Lord Rutledge?”

Grave brown eyes met her glare, dark brows meeting above the straight aristocratic nose in a return glare. “I am helping.” Not an offer or even a request. An obdurate statement. Arrogant male.

Susan fought to keep her irritation from showing. “You have been helpful. Thank you. I can handle it from here.”

Gil lifted one shoulder and dropped it again. “Undoubtedly. Nonetheless…” A second shrug, as expressive as the first. She didn’t have time to argue; not that arguing ever changed Gilbert Rutledge’s mind once it was made up.

He had clearly decided his participation was a foregone conclusion. “What did the Foster chit tell you?”

She would be a fool to refuse him information that might make his help useful. “The Grahame chit,” she corrected. “Clementine Grahame said that her sister and Amy were always whispering together, and would not tell their secrets, so when Amy arrived at their house before breakfast and she and Patrice went up to Patrice’s bedroom, Clementine put her ear to the door to try to hear them or, failing that, spy on what they did next.”

He did not ask the obvious question; just waited for her to continue.

“They talked too low for her to understand. But Patrice left her room dressed as a boy and she and Amy caught Clementine in the hall. They threatened her with retribution if she told anyone what she had seen, and instructed her to tell the aunt they had left for the exhibition together. The rest of Clementine’s story is true, or so she assures me. She followed them here, and actually waited until they left in the post chaise. She then went off to school and pretended the whole thing had not happened.”

Exasperation coloured the last sentence. Susan understood the child’s fear of her unyielding aunt, and her jealousy of the friendship between the two older girls. But if Clementine had spoken earlier, Amy would be safe now.

“Come then, if you must. I am going to the school. You can question the headmistress about the French woman while I talk to Amy’s friends and check her room.” And if Susan weren’t so worried about her daughter, she might be amused at the thought of the coming confrontation between the haughtily disapproving educationalist and the grim uncompromising soldier.

Spotlight on The Moral Compass

Today’s guest is KA Servian, who brings us her book, The Moral Compass.

Florence is a spoilt young woman shielded from the filth and poverty of Victorian London by her father’s money and status. When he suffers a spectacular fall from grace, she must abandon everything, including the man she loves, and start again in the empire’s furthest colony of New Zealand.

Compromise and suffering await Florence in her new home. Against the odds, she finds security and love. But her decision to risk everything to enjoy some of the trappings of her previous life costs her dearly. She must live with the heart-breaking consequences of the choice she has made.

As the first book in the Shaking the Tree series, The Moral Compass begins a journey that Florence will complete in the sequel, A Pivotal Right.

Link to the book on Amazon – it’s discounted to .99c US for all of February. https://www.amazon.com/Moral-Compass-Shaking-Tree-Book-ebook/dp/B076J4YG33/

An extract from The Moral Compass

Jack watched his wife as she sat poker straight in her chair beside the hearth, needle in hand. With deft movements, she worked the black thread through a piece of fine white lawn. He followed her every move, marvelling at her skill.

“What are you embroidering?”

She smiled as she raised her eyes to his and he noted a pink flush appear on her cheeks. “It is a handkerchief for you. I am putting your initials on it.”

“Can I see?”

She nodded, passing the square of fabric to him. He ran his rough fingertips over the intricately worked stitches. “It is beautiful. You have great talent.”

“It is a shame that I wasted so much time learning to embroider as now I have little need for the skill. Mending and general sewing do not require such fine stitching and I am terribly slow.”

He returned the handkerchief to her. “I am sure that with expertise such as this my mended socks will be the most exquisite in the town.”

She sighed. “I suppose so.”

Setting the handkerchief down on the small table beside her chair Florence picked up a book with a scuffed brown cover and opened it.

“What is that you are reading?” he asked.

She closed the book, keeping her finger inside, and lifted it so he could see the spine. He squinted at the faded gold letters. They were familiar, but some were backwards to his eyes and he could not make sense of the words they spelt. Shifting in his seat, he moved his gaze to the fire. “I canna read them in the dim light.”

She cradled the book like a cherished child. “It is called Pride and Prejudice.” She smiled. “It is one of my favourites. I have read it many times.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

Florence shrugged. “The hero and heroine are so different and at first they do not like each other, but then love grows between them and—” She looked down and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s silly, really.”

He leaned forward in his seat and placed his hand over hers. “It doesna sound silly. Tell me about the hero. What manner of man is he that he is able to convince the lady to fall in love with him?”

“Mr Darcy seems proud and rude but he is shy and finds it difficult to speak freely of his feelings.” She paused. “But then he performs a great act of kindness for Lizzy, that’s the heroine. Well, more for her family, really. Then she sees him for the man he is and—”

“Is he a …wealthy man?”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. “Oh yes, he’s tremendously wealthy. He owns a beautiful estate called Pemberley. It is when Lizzy sees it for the first time that she realises that he is a man she could truly love.”

Jack released her hand and sat back. “Oh, I see.”

“Would you like me to read to you? I used to read to Mrs Branson sometimes. Her eyesight was fading, but she still enjoyed hearing stories.”

He stretched his long legs out. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Meet KA Servian

As a life-long creative, Kathy gained qualifications in fashion design, applied design to fabric and jewellery making and enjoyed a twenty-year-plus career in the fashion and applied arts industries as a pattern maker, designer and owner of her own clothing and jewellery labels.

She then discovered a love of teaching and began passing on the skills accumulated over the years—design, pattern-making, sewing, Art Clay Silver and screen-printing to name a few.

Creative writing started as a self-dare to see if she had the chops to write a manuscript. Writing quickly became an obsession and Kathy’s first novel, Peak Hill, which was developed from the original manuscript, was a finalist in the Romance Writers of New Zealand Pacific Hearts Full Manuscript contest in 2016.

Never one to do things by half, Kathy designed and made the costume for the cover of her first historical novel, The Moral Compass and has made several other costumes from various periods in preparation for the novels that will follow in her Shaking the Tree series.

Kathy has just completed a diploma in advance applied writing. She squeezes writing her novels in around teaching sewing part-time and being a wife and mother.

You can follow Kathy on her website  or Facebook page . Photography is also one of her hobbies. You can view her images on her Instagram feed

 

Sunday Spotlight on box sets

Lots of quality reading at a bargain price

Do you like box sets? I do. They’re usually a great value way to acquire a lot of reading. Tell me what you like about them, and what you don’t. I’m planning to be in at least five, and possibly seven, in 2018, so it would be a great help to know what to avoid.

Box sets of the first few books in a series are wonderful. I’ve bought them both to go back to earlier books I’ve missed when I come across a new-to-me author in book 4 or 5 of a series, and also when I’ve followed the series from the beginning through my library, and yearn to own it. The Mary Jo Putney Lost Lords set was one such book. I also have the Lucinda Brant Alec Halsey Mysteries, books 1 to 3. Among others.

I’m less inclined to purchase multi-author box sets of novels, unless the authors are mostly writing heroines of mine. It’s the librarian training I had as an adolescent. I want to shelve all the books by a particular author together.  (And yes, I can do that with electronic books; shelve them in several places all at the same time. But what can I say? I have my obsessive moments.) Still, I have a few, because what can you do but grab a bargain when you see one?

On the other hand, multi-author box sets of novellas are catnip to me. I’ve discovered many new favourite authors that way. Particularly at this time of year, when holiday box sets abound. I love seeing how authors combine the magic of Christmas and the magic of romance.

I have just read Christmas in Duke Street, every story of which is a gem. Waiting in my TBR unread books collection on Kindle, I have 7 Rogues for Christmas, The Dukes of Vauxhall, How to Find a Duke in Ten Days, Romance on the High Seas, Lords of Love, A Regency Collection, An Encounter at Hyde Park, Historical Hellions and more. Joy!

I have, as you know, published my own Christmas box set this year: all my holiday romances between one set of covers. If Mistletoe Could Tell Tales is available now, so if you don’t have my four holiday novellas, grab it and the two bonus novelettes.

I’ve also co-written a holiday story in the world of Sally and Toad, from Never Kiss a Toad. God Help Ye, Merry Gentleman is a prequel short story to Never Kiss a Toad, and also has a number of other shorts and excerpts from the world of Sally, Toad, their families, and their friends. It it is up for presale on Amazon, and will be published on 23rd December. (At the moment, it is free to my Wattpad and newsletter subscribers, who have a link to the unproofed version on a password protected page on my website, but I plan to take that down later this week. And put up a page for the presale links on my book tab.)

And, of course, I have novellas in three multi-author box sets: Never Too Late, with the Bluestocking Belles; Rejoice and Resist, with the Speakeasy Scribes; and Christmas Babies on Main Street, with the Authors of Main Street.

Sunday Spotlight on the Hellions of Haversham

Somehow, I managed to miss this series from one of my favourite authors, Lorraine Heath, until last month, though the third book came out over a year ago, and the little novella that rounds things off was published in March.

I’m so glad I discovered it!

The Hellions are four boys raised at Haversham Hall by a Marquess who is sunk in a grief so deep that the world calls him mad. One is the son whose mother died giving birth to him; three the children of the Marquess’s best friends who died in a train crash.

I say ‘raised’, but for the most part they bring themselves and one another up, reaching adulthood to travel the world and conquer Society, which will forgive them anything for their charm and their tragic pasts.

Each of the three novels tells the story of one of the Hellions.

An unconventionial heiress, a rakish duke

In Falling Into Bed with a Duke, Minerva Dodger is an unconventional heiress whose fortune has been courted but who never expects to be loved for herself decides to attend the Nightingale Club, where women can maintain anonymity while choosing a lover. Spinsterhood is better than a marriage of convenience, but she would like at least one night of passion.

The Duke of Ashebury has one inflexible rule: never more than one night with a woman. He will not risk love, and when he meets Minerva wants nothing more than a photograph of perfection to add to his collection. It will be one more item in the wall of loveliness he builds to keep away the thoughts that haunt him. But he is soon intrigued, and  sets out to find her identity and woo her in earnest.

She has no reason to trust. He has every reason to be afraid. Heath deftly manages the reveal of his secret and Minerva’s hurt and repudiation of her deceitful betrothed without me losing sympathy for either of them. And Ashe’s response is just perfect.

On a side note, Minerva’s father is a delightful character.

The substitute

The Earl Takes All is my favourite of the books, mainly because of the character of the hero. He’s a better man than he realises.

Edward Alcott, twin of the Earl of Greyling, returns from his last adventure with his brother to bring the tragic news of his brother’s death. But to honour the vow he made to his dying brother, he must masquerade as Greyling until his brother’s wife has her baby.

It’s complicated. Edward has been in love with Julia since he kissed her in a dark garden, a kiss she accepted thinking he was Grey. Since that night, Julia has despised Edward, and Edward has acted to widen the breach to keep a distance between them.

Now Julia finds that her husband has changed, and is appealing in an entirely different way. But what will happen when she discovers the truth?

This could all have gone horribly wrong in the hands of a lesser writer. If Edward’s internal decency had not been so well drawn — the conflict between his desires and the differing calls on his honour — I would not have been nearly so invested in the outcome. And I loved Julia, too. A worthy heroine, truly in love with her husband, and capable of loving again, a different man in a different way.

I couldn’t see how this was going to work out. A man cannot marry his brother’s wife; that’s the Anglican rule. But Heath had a surprise up her sleeve, and I couldn’t have been happier.

One of the best marriage of (in)convenience stories I’ve read

The Viscount and the Vixen is about the fourth of the Hellions. Viscount Locksley is never going to fall into the trap of love. He knows that way lies madness, as happened to his father, the Marquess of Marsden.

But when his father advertises for a bride and Portia Gadstone arrives, Locke reads the contract and realises she just might be the answer to his need. She has been guaranteed a marriage. He wants a bride he can feel nothing for: and a fortune hunting vixen prepared to marry an elderly man for his title should be perfect.

But Portia is there out of desperation, not greed, and her secrets may ruin them both.

Portia is a wonderful heroine. I occasionally wanted to shake Locke, but his actions were totally in keeping with his character and the times, and he came through in the end. Another amazing novel to round off a superb series.

Not sorry I read it

When the Marquess Falls is a novella telling the love story of Locke’s mother and father, the doomed Linnie Connor and Marquess of Marsden.

The story is charming. He always follows the rules set by his inflexible mother. She is the baker’s daughter, and therefore completely unsuitable. And I liked both the main characters.

I thought Heath had set herself an enormous challenge in writing a novella for which readers of the series know the end, since we know that Marsden spent most of his lifetime sunk in grief.

I tell you, people, she just about pulls it off. The last three chapters are beautifully evocative. For me, the paranormal elements grate, but that’s me.

Spotlight on The Viscount’s Seduction

Alina K. Field has joined me today, with book two of her series, Sons of the Spy Lord. It’s on sale at 99c from 26 November to 4 December everywhere except Google Play — Links below. The Bastard’s Iberian Bride, book one, is at 99c until 26 November, so get it today.

Revenge and Romance—can she find both with one determined Viscount?

Searching for the Truth

Lady Sirena Hollister has lost her family, her home, and even her fey abilities, but somehow the fairies have handed her an unexpected chance at a Season in London. From her place on the fringes of high society, she resolves to find the truth about her only brother’s vanishing, and settle her family’s score with the wily English Spy Lord, the Earl of Shaldon. Soon enough, her schemes stir up an unknown enemy…and spark danger of a different sort, in the person of the Earl’s handsome heir, Viscount Bakeley.

Seducing the Beauty

The impertinent hoyden Bakeley met years earlier was as wild as her Irish roots, and just as unlucky. And she’s still an Irish traitor’s sister! But Lady Sirena has grown into a beauty whose charm and courage intrigue him. When danger threatens, Bakeley comes to her rescue, risking scandal, the ton’s disapproval, his interfering father’s ire…and his own heart.

Buy Links for The Viscount’s Seduction

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Excerpt: First Kiss

He snatched up her hand. “You look lovely tonight. Stay. Keep me company.”

She tried to pull away but he reached for her other hand.

“Do not do this, sir.”

The anger was giving way to fear, though whether it was real or feigned he couldn’t tell. He drew her closer to the light. Her eyes glowed with that same luminosity he’d noticed at Hackwell’s ball, her lips were plump and inviting, and gold highlights bounced off her dress and her hair. She was a beauty in daylight. By candlelight, she was a goddess, a golden siren. No wonder she’d had to run away from her cousin.

And that thought brought him up. He didn’t ravish women, unless they wanted it. This girl didn’t want it.

Unless he convinced her she did.

He eased in a breath. No. At least, no, not tonight.

“You and I, my lady, we’re looking for the same thing.”

She swallowed hard, her lovely throat jumping. “You are mistaken.”

“Am I? What do you think I’m talking about?”

She pursed her lips. Opened them. “A liaison.”

“An improper one?”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re mocking me now. Let me go.”

“First we should search together.”

“I don’t know what you mean, and we’ll be missed. Both of us gone? Together?” Her eyes became shiny. She’d drummed up some tears. “I’ll be…on the street. I’ll be fortunate if I’m sent back to serve as my cousin’s, my cousin’s—”

“Files, Lady Sirena. Files that say Hollister on them.”

A tear ran unchallenged down her creamy cheek and her mouth dropped. “Oh.”

He swept the tear away with his finger. So soft her skin was, as he dragged the moisture down to her lips and traced a path over them. Her chest rose, her breasts straining the modest bodice of the yellow gown.

He yanked her closer and settled his lips on hers, and a sharp gasp escaped her before she clamped her mouth shut.

“Just one kiss,” he whispered. He nibbled around her locked lips and stroked the line of her jaw until she shivered in his arms and her lips parted, allowing him entry.

He kissed her then, sweeping his tongue against hers, for long minutes, then tasting her skin, following the path of his fingers along her jaw and down to her neck, inciting a sharp gasp and a moan, and more wriggling. He wanted her, and she wanted him, and—

“Stop.” Her hands locked on his shoulders, pushing.

Heart pounding, he froze. He was a gentleman. Even if she had been no lady—which she most definitely was—he would have stopped. No matter how hard his cock screamed for release, as it did now. “Right.” He stepped back and straightened his neck cloth.

Sirena’s heart pounded so wildly she could barely find breath to speak. “The files,” she said finally.

“Yes. He wouldn’t keep them here in so accessible a location.”

Oh, he was lathered, she could tell, almost as much as herself. This was what was meant by seduction—not the graspy, slobbery, forced thing her cousin had attempted. If not for the housekeeper and butler and a strong dose of laudanum…oh, this was very different, and this man a far more powerful lord than her cousin.

She’d be lucky to survive this night with her maidenhead intact. But she wanted that file. She needed to know what happened to Jamie. “His study then? My father had a room like that.”

“Yes. We’ll look there.” He gazed down that bored nose, straightened his neck cloth, though not so much as a hair of the man was out of place, while inside herself, every nerve was dancing a jig. She pressed a hand to her throat and hoped her heart hadn’t pounded her bodice askew.

Meet Alina:

Award winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but her true passion is the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California and hasn’t looked back. She shares a midcentury home with her husband, her spunky, blonde, rescued terrier, and the blue-eyed cat who conned his way in for dinner one day and decided the food was too good to leave.

She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. She is hard at work on her next series of Regency romances, but loves to hear from readers!

 

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