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Cover reveal for Dangerous Weakness, by Caroline Warfield

CarolineToday, I welcome Caroline Warfield to the blog. Caroline is a fellow Bluestocking Belle, and author of Dangerous Works and Dangerous Secrets, both of which I love. And today, she is sharing with us the cover of her next book in the series. Caroline, the stage is yours.

I am delighted to reveal the cover of Dangerous Weakness from Soul Mate Publishing, which will be available for preorder in September. I hoped also to tell you more about the hero, Richard Hayden, the Marquess of Glenaire and heir to the Duke of Sudbury, but characters can be elusive. They often have depths they show only reluctantly, even to their authors. Richard is particularly private about his life. I had to enlist the help of the interview fairies.

We managed to corner him in a reflective mood one afternoon in Saint James Park. When we took a place next to him on the bench and assured him nothing he said would be published until the distant future, he opened up, at least a bit.

  1. What are you most proud of about your life?

Glenaire2“Pride?” he sputters. “I come from a family that has raised it to an art form. My father wraps himself in it like a coronation robe and my mother? My mother floats into any room she enters on a river of pride. No one in the kingdom, she believes, has more consequence than a Hayden, except perhaps the royal dukes, and she isn’t sure about them. Is that what you wanted to know?”

His tone is bitter, as if that kind of pride blights his life. When we suggest that is not precisely what we asked, he looks weary and appears to give the question more thought.

“A job well done gives me satisfaction,” he muses. “You might call that pride. I always put England first. I oversaw intelligence gathering during the Peninsular Campaign. I’ve managed the czar and his entourage, kept the Ottomans from provoking revolution, and helped negotiate the Treaty of Paris. I know my duty and I do it, even at personal cost.” A faraway look comes over him. “Even at cost,” he repeats.

He brightens somewhat. “I always do my best for my friends. I’m proud of that. I gathered information that brought Will, the Earl of Chadbourn, and the lady now his wife together. I managed to smooth my sister’s path to marriage with Andrew, though I may have erred earlier in their relationship. I am supporting Jamie, Baron Ross, who has inherited a tainted title and bankrupt estate, although Jamie has made himself scarce lately. The foolish man needs someone to keep him out of trouble. Is that what you had in mind?”
We nod and move on.

  1. What are you most ashamed of in your life?

“Sometimes duty to friends suffers when duty to country demands it. I sent my best friend, Andrew, the brother of my heart, on a dreadful mission knowing he might fall into French hands. He found the vital intelligence but was captured and tortured. By the time we got him out he bore horrific scars, some visible on his person, some deeper.”

We suggest that incident sounded like the cost of duty. Is there nothing else? He looks ashamed for a moment.

“I’ve always treated women with care—with discretion at least. I have never been tempted beyond control until lately. I ruined an innocent. I’m ashamed of that. When I attempted to make it right, the woman threw my proposal in my face. It leaves a scar on my honor.”

Assured this interview will not see the light of day until long into the future he added, “It leaves a scar on my heart as well. I don’t understand it.”

In response to a raised eyebrow he went on reluctantly, “I may have been a touch managing about the matter. I offered to make her a marchioness. Does she need romance too?”

  1. What impression do you make on people when they first meet you?

“They call me “the Marble Marquess,” in drawing rooms and gentlemen’s clubs. I must strike people as a cold fish. I can’t think why.”

  1. Do you think you have turned out the way your parents expected?

“I’ve given my parents no reason to criticize. I do my duty by the estate, meeting monthly with His Grace and his man of business to stay abreast of affairs. I create no scandal. I never challenge either of them overtly. When I disagree, I do it discretely and they pretend not to know.”

We suggest that is an odd answer and ask for an example.

My sister, Georgiana, defied them openly and created what they consider a scandal when she published Poetry by the Female Authors of Ancient Greece, and allowed her authorship to be made public. She compounded that by marrying beneath her in their opinion. She ceased to exist as far as Her Grace is concerned. They don’t acknowledge her.”

“I offered to support her, but she refused my help. She married my friend Andrew Mallet and the two of them do very well. I see them often. My parents pretend not to know.”

  1. What is the worst thing that has happened in your life? What did you learn from it?

“I might have said there was no such thing a year ago. Perhaps I would have believed it. Every privilege and deference has been given to me since birth. My family name smoothed the way for me in school, society, and even government. (Although I pride myself in having risen on my own merits.) In an odd way the lack of catastrophe is itself the worst thing. Rank can be a gilded cage. While my friends fought for king and country, I had to play my part behind a desk.”

“Worse, they all married for love, something I was raised to call maudlin. Seeing them now I’m not so certain. Women see me as a title to be coveted, wealth to be acquired, an ornament to be displayed. I can’t help what I am, but I can wish to be desired for myself rather than my prospects. Only one woman I ever met saw beyond those things, and she won’t have me. Lily Thorton’s rejection may be the worst thing. I’m still trying to learn what to do about it. Why can’t women be as easily managed as the affairs of state?”

  1. How do you feel about your life right now? What, if anything, would you like to change?

In recent months I almost allowed myself to be drawn into my parents’ machinations regarding marriage. My mother wants a protégée and my father wants more land, more money, and more prestige—as if he didn’t already have more than he needs. They pressured me about it over dinner last night, each in their own way.”

“It came to me then: I don’t want a future duchess. I want a wife. I want family. I want what my friends have found. I have to try with Lily one more time. If she won’t have me, I have to find another woman who will see me for what I am. I refuse to live my parents’ life.”

 

Alas poor Richard was unaware at the time of this interview that his efforts to protect her had failed and Lily had already disappeared.  If he wants to try again, he will have to pursue her.

To find out what happens, you will have to wait for Dangerous Weakness.

For Georgiana and Andrew’s story, read Dangerous Works.

For Baron Ross’s story, read Dangerous Secrets.

The Earl of Chadbourn’s story will be in “A Dangerous Nativity,” in Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem available for preorder in October.

And here it is, folks: the cover!

Dangerous Weakness

If women were as easily managed as the affairs of state—or the recalcitrant Ottoman Empire—Richard Hayden, Marquess of Glenaire, would be a happier man. As it was the creatures—one woman in particular—made hash of his well-laid plans and bedeviled him on all sides.

Lily Thornton came home from Saint Petersburg in pursuit of marriage. She wants a husband and a partner, not an overbearing, managing man. She may be “the least likely candidate to be Marchioness of Glenaire,” but her problems are her own to fix, even if those problems include both a Russian villain and an interfering Ottoman official.

Given enough facts, Richard can fix anything. But protecting that impossible woman is proving almost as hard as protecting his heart, especially when Lily’s problems bring her dangerously close to an Ottoman revolution. As Lily’s personal problems entangle with Richard’s professional ones, and she pits her will against his, he chases her across the pirate-infested Mediterranean. Will she discover surrender isn’t defeat? It might even have its own sweet reward.

Meet Caroline Warfield

Caroline Warfield has at various times been an army brat, a librarian, a poet, a raiser of children, a nun, a bird watcher, an Internet and Web services manager, a conference speaker, an indexer, a tech writer, a genealogist, and, of course, a romantic. She has sailed through the English channel while it was still mined from WWII, stood on the walls of Troy, searched Scotland for the location of an entirely fictional castle (and found it), climbed the steps to the Parthenon, floated down the Thames from the Tower to Greenwich, shopped in the Ginza, lost herself in the Louvre, gone on a night safari at the Singapore zoo, walked in the Black Forest, and explored the underground cistern of Istanbul. By far the biggest adventure has been life-long marriage to a prince among men.

She sits in front of a keyboard at a desk surrounded by windows, looks out at the trees and imagines. Her greatest joy is when one of those imaginings comes to life on the page and in the imagination of her readers.

Caroline’s social media—use as it suits your purpose

Visit Caroline’s Website and Blog                http://www.carolinewarfield.com/

Meet Caroline on Facebook                          https://www.facebook.com/carolinewarfield7

Follow Caroline on Twitter                            @CaroWarfield

Email Caroline directly                                    warfieldcaro@gmail.com

Subscribe to Caroline’s newsletter               http://www.carolinewarfield.com/newsletter/

Dangerous Weakness Pinterest Board   http://bit.ly/1M1Fgls

Play in the  Bluestocking Bookshop        http://on.fb.me/1I7MRe4

 

She can also be found on

LibraryThing                    http://www.librarything.com/profile/CaroWarfield

Amazon Author               http://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Warfield/e/B00N9PZZZS/

Good Reads                      http://bit.ly/1C5blTm

Bluestocking Belles      http://bluestockingbelles.com/

 

Caroline’s Other Books (on Amazon)

Dangerous Works    http://amzn.to/1DJj0Hi

Dangerous Secrets   http://tinyurl.com/ph56vnb

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Marketing in the bazillion book marketplace – giveaways

Cross-posted with Mari Christie.

prize-drawIn recent posts in the series Mari Christie and I are writing on marketing in the bazillion book marketplace, we’ve been talking about marketing plans. Posts have focused on audience and purpose. What do we want to achieve? Who do we need to reach? We’ve begun to talk channels. Where will we go to find our readers? But we don’t yet have a plan.

A marketing plan is our map for the journey to the destination ‘book sales’. But deciding you’re flying to the Caribbean for a holiday is only the first step in a travel plan. You need to do a lot more planning and take a heap of actions before you can drink cocktails under a beach umbrella. And a marketing plan is no different.

So we’re going to talk tools and tactics: the mechanisms you’ll use to get to your destination (the savings account, the airplane), and the actions you’ll take (put aside 2% of your pay packet, buy a ticket).

Watch for further posts on various tools and tactics. This week: giveaways.

Promote your book by running a giveaway

Hosting creative giveaways can help draw attention to your book. But making sure they give you the results you want takes a bit of planning.

Keep it simple — but be clear about what you want to achieve

Do you want more subscribers to your newsletter? More followers on Twitter? More party-goers at your Facebook launch party? Design your giveaway questions to get the results you’re after. Be creative. You could ask those who enter to:

  • share a particular post
  • comment on a particular post
  • post a phot
  • post a caption to a photo
  • come up with a name for something in your next book: a character, pet, house, ship, town… or even book title
  • answer questions about what they enjoy in books.

Choose a prize people want — and that works for you

The better the reward, the more entries you’ll get. At the same time, you want entries from people who are interested in the type of book you write. A $50 Amazon card may be attractive, but it might also attract people who are only interested in the prize, not your book. Here’s a post Mari wrote on prizes.

Consider combining with other authors to make a bigger prize.

Use multiple forms of social media to promote

Different people focus on different types of social media, so make sure you promote your giveaway on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest and wherever else you have a presence. Use the word ‘giveaway’ in the title and tell people about the prize.

Pay attention

During the giveaway, visit the posts and comment. Talk to those entering. Show an interest.

Finish gracefully

Announce your winner or winners as soon as practical after the giveaway is over. Send out the prizes straightaway. Thank all those who have participated.

Watch the legal stuff

A sweepstake is a promotion where the winner is chosen by a random drawing. A contest is a promotion where the winner is chosen on merit (by vote or a judging panel). You can safely call them both giveaways, but be careful not to call a sweepstake a contest.

You need to state the prize, the deadline, and the conditions of entry up front, and you can’t change those after you’ve started. You can’t charge a fee to enter and you must accept all valid entries.

 

MariMari Christie has been a professional writer, editor, and designer in Denver, Colorado for more than 20 years. At the age of 19, she decided to learn to write anything. With experience in journalism, marketing and advertising, proposals and grants, technical material, fiction, creative non-fiction, critique, and poetry, this goal has, for the most part, been accomplished.

Mari holds a BA in Writing, summa cum laude and With Distinction, from the University of Colorado Denver, and has been an expert in Microsoft products since Windows 3.1 and Adobe Creative Suite since before it was a suite.

Website and blog
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Twitter
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Giveaway for A Baron for Becky launch

 

Prize packageTo celebrate my launch of A Baron for Becky, I’m giving away an eleven-book gift prize, made up of a book from each of my amazing guest authors. I’m also giving Meet the Cast an ebook collection of character interviews, to anyone who asks for it in the comments to this post, and When Fictional Worlds Collide, an ebook collection of co-authored stories, to anyone who is subscribed to my newsletter or who subscribes before midnight EDT on 5 August.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Oh Brave New World? Alex and Aldridge Part 5

In this final episode of the story I co-wrote with Keisha Page, our heroes talk about the benefits of the 21st century, and decide on a tour of New York. Read on to find out what happens from the perspective of the Marquis of Aldridge from my regency novel, A Baron for Becky. Go to The Word Mistress to see the same story from the point of view of Alex, Keisha’s contemporary hero from Rhythm of Love.

 

Crock and bull“I was married when my kids were conceived, but I don’t think it really matters much, as long as the kids are taken care of. Today, I wouldn’t dream of making my daughters get married because they were pregnant, but I would expect the fathers to help.

“But women today have more options. They can get a college degree, and any job they want, even if they have a child; so they are far less dependent on someone else for their financial stability. Not that divorced or single women trying to raise kids have it easy, but it’s better than it was even a generation ago.”

Alex smiled. “Birth control works better, too.”

” ‘Oh, wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in ’t!’ ” Aldridge quoted. “Your world sounds a paradise indeed.”

Alex burst into laughter. “I happen to agree with you, but I’ll tell you, not everyone would. There’s a great deal of unhappiness in my world today. Talking with you had made me realize just how great we’ve got it. But we still have war, and people are still homeless, and we still have great and horrible diseases ravaging the world. People are fighting over religion, and race, and the world is an ever-changing place and some folks just aren’t happy about that. It seems like some things may never change.”

Aldridge grinned back. “Ah. Human nature has not changed then, in 200 years. It was too much to hope that it would. And in Shakespeare’s play, Miranda’s ‘goodly creatures’ proved a venal and greedy group, on the whole. Shakespeare knew his human kind. What do you say to this tour, my friend?”

Alex signalled the serving girl, and she brought them bills written on paper.  “You take care out there, gentlemen. It’s been a right pleasure serving you this afternoon.”

Aldridge slipped a couple of gold guineas to her as he headed to the door, and held it open. As Alex passed him, Aldridge looked back to wink at the waitress. Perhaps she was fairy folk like in the tales his nanny used to tell him. If so, he could see why they were called the fair folk.

He turned to follow Alex and found himself in the inn yard, with enough light to show the countryside of Southeast England spreading around him.

Perhaps he would find his way back to the future if he went back in and exited again, keeping his mind on Alex this time. But the door handle would not budge. Aldridge stepped back, and looked at the building. Through the windows, he could see stacks of hay and a floor strewn with trash. Definitely not the inn where he’d just spent several hours with a man from the future.

From one of the ramshackle outbuildings, he heard a horse nicker. It was more of a shed than a stable, his horse the only occupant, tied in a broken down stall. It had been rubbed down, and supplied with fresh water and feed, though no one came when he called.

He searched, but the place was deserted; not just empty of human life, but seemingly abandoned for years. Finally, he tacked up the horse. The persistent drizzle that had driven him to stop at the inn had gone, and the sun would not set for at least two hours. And in London, Becky waited.

Photo Credit: The Crock and Bull inn was invented by the Bluestocking Belles as a multi-author space where ourcharacters and those of guests could meet. We now meet in the Bluestocking Bookshop. You can meet the Bluestocking Belles in the Bookshop here.

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Welcome to Sherry Ewing – and A Knight to Call My Own

SE photoToday, I welcome fellow Bluestocking Belle Sherry Ewing to the blog. Sherry writes medieval and regency romances, some with a time slip element, and  She’s a bestselling author who writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. A week ago, she released her fourth book about clan MacLaren – find out more about A Knight to Call My Own below the interview.

  • Why do you write in your chosen genre or genres? I first picked up The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss when I was a teenager and I’ve been hooked on historical romances ever since. It was only natural I would write in the same genre.
  • Do you base any of your characters on real people? Surprisingly (or maybe not) yes, along with my own experiences from my life. I think there’s a little bit of me in everyone one of my characters and I would think that applies to every author.
  • What’s your favourite scene and why? I have a scene where Lynet and Ian are alone for the first time after not seeing one another for six years. Lynet is overwhelmed with emotions and she is unclear if she should hate him or love him. I could read that scene a hundred times and still love it.
  • What was the hardest scene to write and why? I always have difficulty writing sex scenes. It may sell books but I tend to highly romanticise those passages and leave the reader to use their own imagination.
  • What do you like to do in your spare time? I’m a huge NASCAR race fan and tend to do my best writing on race day.

Sherry enjoys interacting with her readers. You can email her on her website or find her on these social media outlets:

Website & Blog  *  Bluestocking Belles  *  Facebook  *  Pinterest  *  Twitter  *   Tsu

Sign Me Up!

Newsletter  *  Street Team

A Knight to Call My Own

SE A Knight to call my ownWhen your heart is broken, is love still worth the risk?

Lynet of clan MacLaren knows how it feels to love and not have that love returned. Her brother-in-law has decided a competition for the right to wed Lynet is just the thing his willful charge needs to force her hand.

Ian MacGillivray has returned to Berwyck in search of a bride. But Lynet is anything but an easy conquest and he will need more than charm to win her hand.

From the English borders to the Highlands of Scotland, the chase is on for who will claim the fair Lynet. The price paid will be high to ensure her safety, and even higher to win her love.

Buy Links:

Amazon US  *  Barnes & Noble  *  iBooks  *  Inktera  *  Kobo  *  Oyster  *  Scribd

Amazon AU  *  Amazon CA  *  Amazon UK

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Contemporary and Regency heroes discuss transport and children – Part 4

Here’s part 4 of the story that Keisha Page and I co-wrote about a meeting between our two heroes. Separated by 200 years and the Atlantic ocean, they discuss the very different cultures they inhabit. See Keisha’s The Word Mistress blog for the same encounter from the perspective of Alex, hero of Rhythm of Love. My hero is the Marquis of Aldridge, from A Baron for Becky. If you want to start at the beginning, here are links to Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 on my blog.  

fjord_horse_vs__airplane_by_mariszAlex smiled. “Transportation is vastly different now. We have cars; they’re combustion powered wagons that can travel many hundreds of miles in a day. Imagine if a wagon were pulled by three hundred horses all working together. It’s kind of like that, but without the actual horses. I can drive to Denver in two days, if I stop to sleep. Faster if I fly.”

“You can fly?” Aldridge does his best not to look skeptical. How many brandies has Alex had?

Alex laughed.

“Not me. I get into a machine called an airplane, and it flies. The airplane can get me to Denver in about four hours.”

Alex slid the rest of his brandy across the table toward Aldridge.

“You may need this. An airplane can fly from New York City to London in less than eight hours.”

“Eight hours? I find that difficult to… I mean no insult, friend Alex, truly, but… Eight hours?” He pushed the brandy back towards Alex. “In truth, I appear to have had more than enough. Men from the 21st century. Machines that fly. Carriages that need no horses.” He shook his head slowly.

“It may be I have fallen asleep on my horse and am dreaming this whole interlude, but this is certainly the best dream stew and most unusual dream conversation I have ever had. Perhaps the dream will let me visit this New York of the far future. Will you give me a tour, Alex?”

“I would be honored to give you a tour! There’s so much for you to see! Skyscrapers and elevators and the Brooklyn Bridge. I kind of can’t believe I’m having this conversation, because it’s so, well, surreal, but yes, Aldridge! Let me show you the wonders of the twenty-first century. And if you thought the stew was good, just wait. There’s so much food for you to try!”
“Better than this stew?” Aldridge grinned. “You can keep your roast peacock and turtle soup. At the end of a day’s ride, there’s nothing better than good plain hearty fare like this. And the bread is superb.”

“Tell me about your children, Alex. How many do you have? And what are they named?”

Alex’s eyes softened and he smiled as he says, “I have three. My Ella is seventeen. She’s going to be a senior this year. She wants to spend the summer after she graduates in Europe, and I’m not so sure that’s such a hot idea. I know I’m an overprotective father, but I’m not sure she’s as ready to conquer the world as she thinks she is. Leslie and Ella’s mom both tell me that I need to let her go, but I’ve been overseas. I know what the guys there are like.”
Alex shifted in his chair. “My son Ryan is twelve. He’s almost taller than his mom already. He’s gonna be a beast. He’s on the track team and the wrestling team. He’s the fastest kid in his grade, too.”

“Samantha is ten. She is something else, man. Spoiled rotten, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ve gotten to spend a lot more time with her when she was younger than I did with Ella, and it made such a difference. I’ve been able to give my kids everything they’ve ever needed because of my job, but I’m not completely convinced that missing out on months of their lives at a time was worth it. What about your kids?”

Aldridge swirls his brandy in his glass. It really is an excellent drop. “I have three, too. I think my world is very different to yours, Alex. I missed the Grand Tour myself. Napoleon, you know. But in our world, it is the men who are sent off to see the world, and the women stay home.

“My Antonia — I say mine, but I did not know of her existence until she was six years of age, and to this day she knows me only as an uncle. I would not for the world attract the attention of the gossips and scandalmongers by telling anyone of our closer bond. But — ah Alex, what a girl!

“She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s every bit as lovely as her mother. I feel very privileged that they let me see her, and be an uncle to her. And anything my name and title can do to smooth her path… Her stepfather won’t ask, of course. But it is hers, nonetheless.” Undoubtedly his smile is every bit as soft and silly as the one Alex wore when talking about his girls. Antonia is ten, too. The same age as Alex’s youngest.

“And I have two boys. I was luckier with them, or perhaps kinder to their mothers would be more the truth. With each one, when I found my mistress was with child… I take precautions, Alex. I would not have you think I am careless, but they don’t always work. Well, twice now, I’ve found my chere aimee a husband who will welcome my child as his own.

“I would give a great deal to be in your shoes, and to be able to acknowledge them without hurting them and their families.”

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Fictional worlds collide – two heroes, two hundred years: part 3

Today, I continue the story that Keisha Page, the Word Mistress, and I cowrote; a meeting between our two heroes. See Keisha’s blog for Part 3 from Alex’s perspective. Aldridge’s point of view follows.

Aldridge glared at them, and Alex said, “Go on, mind your business.”

How could Aldridge explain his difficulties to a man who thought divorce was just a matter of paperwork? He shrugged. “I’ll be the Duke of Haverford, when my father dies. My wife needs to be… can you imagine what the harpies of the ton would do to a woman who has… I should explain, Alex. I don’t know what things are like here in the 21st century, but in my world, women who sell their bodies are… reviled is the best word, I suppose.

“It’s hypocritical. I know only a handful of men who haven’t had a ladybird or two in their keeping. And many women of the highest ranks in the land take a lover once they’ve given their lord an heir.

“Nobody says a word, as long as they are discrete.”

Though Heaven help them if they were not. Men could bed as many women as they liked, but let a woman be seen to let a man under her skirts and her reputation was lost forever.

Young Lady in a White Hat by Jean Baptiste Greuze

Young Lady in a White Hat by Jean Baptiste Greuze

“But Becky… well, she has had a hard life, and I would never even consider exposing her to the kind of hatred and ridicule she’d get if she were my duchess, and people were to find out..” he trails off, and stares once more into his brandy.

“Not that I haven’t considered it…” But think as he might, he could not find a path that didn’t end in disaster.

Alex signalled the girl to bring Aldridge another brandy, and she responded quickly..

“Prostitution really isn’t legal here, but it happens,” Alex said. “Your Becky would probably be called an “escort,” today. Someone you spend time with in exchange for money. Legally, there’s not supposed to be sex involved. But we all know there is, and if it’s proven, both the man and the woman could go to jail. But other than a scandal if it’s a celebrity, it’s not really a huge deal. But I don’t think that most people take lovers today. We expect our spouses to be monogamous.”

Becky would expect her spouse to be monogamous. She was, in many ways, a conventional soul despite the life she’d been forced into. Could Aldridge be faithful to one woman? He’d never tried beyond the usual initial period of infatuation with a new lover. Other men managed, so it must be possible.

Alex was clearly bothered by Aldridge’s dilemma. “Surely, there’s something you could do. I mean, I don’t know who this ‘ton’ is but what could they possibly do? And don’t people step down from that royal stuff all the time? Some duke did it a long time ago, when he fell in love with a divorced woman. I guess it was pretty scandalous, but once the initial shock and surprise was over, I don’t think anyone really cared. People have other things to do with their lives. I mean, the Prince of England has been divorced, and remarried a divorced woman, and he’s still next in line to the throne. And no one even likes his current wife!”

Society had clearly changed greatly in 200 years. “My own prince would happily divorce, but he’d lose the throne if he did it, and he won’t risk that.”

Aldridge took several more mouthfuls of his stew, thinking about what Alex has said.

“In my world, women who sell their bodies can be imprisoned, but mostly only the poor unfortunates who work the streets are actually arrested. The brothels pay bribes to the constables to be left alone, and people like my Becky… no one would dare to accuse any woman that has me for her protector, you can be sure of that.”

“But a world where people marry for love and divorce is easy? Monogamy would work, I think.” Indeed, most of the time he was faithful to one lover at a time, even if the affair lasted a mere night. He raised his brandy glass to toast that kind of monogamy. “One woman at a time.”

“It’s like that here, too,” Alex confirmed. “Usually the women you see on the streets are drug addicts, or forced into prostitution. We have one state where it’s legal, and highly regulated. But mostly, no. I think what your Becky does would be looked at as no big deal.

“But I don’t understand why you can’t just go somewhere, where no one knows you, and begin life fresh with the woman you love. Surely, since you own multiple homes, money wouldn’t be an issue?”

Aldridge was rich, that was true, though the homes Alex spoke of belonged to the duchy. But he’d followed the investment advice of his cousin and half-brother and ignored that of his father. As a result, Aldridge was now buying the unentailed properties his father was selling whenever another gaming debt fell due. Technically, they belonged to Aldridge, but in his mind they were part of the duchy. Even without those properties, though, he would not be penniless.

“I do have some personal money that doesn’t belong to the duchy. There is merit in what you say. I couldn’t just disappear, of course. I will be duke whether I want to or not. But perhaps I could engineer my own death? I have a younger brother… “

No. It wouldn’t do. He could not leave the duchy to Jonathan. “But he’s a feckless fool, Alex. I love him, but…

“I’ve trained to be duke my whole life. His grace my father put me in charge of one of his estates when I was 21, and since then I’ve taken over more and more. I run it all now; the estates, the properties, the industries, the trading enterprises. His grace plays at politics, drinks with his cronies, and chases women young enough to be his daughters.”

Edward Archer by Andrew Plimer, 1815And wastes his patrimony at the tables, and abuses his heir for not raising the rents when the harvests have been poor.

“1000s of people depend on me for their livelihood; one could say their lives, if that doesn’t sound too dramatic. The duchy was in poor condition when I took over, but it hums along very nicely now.

“Can I abandon them just to take what I want?”

Alex was shaking his head, rejecting Aldridge’s argument.

“Aldridge, I’ve had some regrets in my life. To tell you the truth, I’ve done some very stupid things. But I’ll never regret a moment spent with Leslie. Not one single moment. If I had an opportunity to marry her, to be with her in a way that wouldn’t rip apart a family, I would jump on it.

“Can’t you hire a manager or something? Someone qualified to run the estate in your stead? Then your folks, those who depend on you for their livelihood, would be taken care of, and you would still have an estate for your children to inherit. I travel a lot, with the band, but I own a thriving business here, and I would never be able to do that without a great manager to take care of things when I’m gone. Surely, you could find someone who could manage things for you? Then, you could have your Becky.”

Aldridge shrugged off his melancholy with a visible effort. “I will think on it,” he promised. It would never work. This man from the future couldn’t understand. Aldridge had managers for all duchy’s enterprises, and he supposed he might be able to find someone he trusted enough to oversee them. But only the duke could represent the Grenfords at court and in The Lords. An absentee duke? Never. He couldn’t do it.

He changed the subject. “But what of you? 1800 miles, you said? I cannot imagine the rigours of such a journey. That is… why that’s four and a half times the distance between London and Edinburgh, and even the fastest mail coaches, travelling without stopping except for fresh horses, can’t do it in less than 2 days. A week is more likely; more if the weather is unkind. You must love her very much to make such a trip every few months.”

Part 1 is here

Part 2 is here

And this table links to Keisha’s postings from Alex’s viewpoint

 

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If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans

if-plan-a-fails-383x450God thinks I’m hilarious.

Way back in April, when I first thought about pushing the publication of Encouraging Prudence out to October to fit in with Halloween, it seemed like a good idea to write a novella for publishing in late July or early August. After all, otherwise I’d have six months without a new release!

And of course I could write the other novella; the one for the Bluestocking Belles’ Christmas anthology. I even had a title, a hero and heroine, and a vague idea of plot.

Two novellas, right? A Baron for Becky and Gingerbread Bride. And carry on with Encouraging Prudence at the same time. Easy.

And then A Baron for Becky grew. By the time I sent it off to the beta readers, it was 42,500 words. They came back with questions and comments, and I spent two weeks frantically editing and rewriting. I sent it to the editor at just over 50,000 words. My novella was now officially a novel.

I’m not going to walk you through the whole thing. Suffice it to say that Mari has done a developmental editor thing on me that has improved the book out of all sight, robbed us both of sleep, and grown the word count by another 10,000 words.

I’ve also managed to meet my Gingerbread Bride deadline, but Encouraging Prudence has languished. And there isn’t time between now and October to do it justice.

BfB cover finalAlso, life. Several people dear to me have put the hard word on about overdoing things.

If you’re waiting for David’s and Prue’s story, don’t despair. I’m around half way through and I plan to finish the first draft by the end of September or at the very outside by the end of October. But I’ve just been through my book table changing the dates to be vaguer. It will be published in 2016, and I can’t say more than that.

I’m polishing up some short stories for October, including a prequel for Encouraging Prudence, in which David and Prue are bit players in someone else’s romance. It’s a Gothic murder mystery, which should be fun.

And the Christmas box set is out in November.

Oh dear. That almost sounds like a plan.

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Two heroes. Two centuries divide them. Two different fictional worlds. Part 2

Today, I’m continuing the story Keisha Page and I wrote for her blog, The Word Mistress. Our heroes – the Marquis of Aldridge from A Baron for Becky and 1810, and Alex from Rhythm of Love and the 21st century – have found their way to a mysterious inn where the food is excellent and time no longer applies.

awY3dMbAlex’s grasp was firm for a hallucination. And he returned to the slice of fresh bread he’s cut with an enthusiasm Aldridge did not associate with ghosts. “Margate?” he asked, between mouthfuls. “Is that your home?”

“It will be,” Aldridge said, without much enthusiasm. “One of them. I mostly live in London, though.” He smiled, his expression softening. Officially, his London residence was the heir’s wing at Haverford House. But the townhouse he’d purchased for his mistress, Becky, was more of a home to him than anywhere else on the planet. “I’ll be home tomorrow,” he said.

Aldridge hoped this was true; that he’d walk out of here and it would still be 1810. “And do you live in New York, Alex?”

“I’ve been to London a few times. I’m guessing it looks much different now. Cars and pollution, and, oh, all of the new buildings that have been built. I live here, in an apartment in the Bronx. My kids live with their mother, in a house a few miles from my place. At least they’re close enough that I can see them all the time.” Alex dunked his piece of bread in his stew.

The London Aldridge knew had dirt and filth enough; pollution, certainly. Cars? He’d seen a few processions, but perhaps this modern London had more? He focussed on the part of Alex’s statement he could make sense of. The term ‘kids’ clearly meant children. “I also have children who live with their mothers, but I see little of them. You are fortunate to have yours close.”

Alex nodded.

“I am pretty lucky. My girl, Leslie, wants to move here, but if she does, then her kids’ dad wouldn’t be able to see their kids. It’s kind of a pain in the ass. Not the kids, but the making sure that everyone gets to see each other when they’re supposed to. I don’t know how anyone makes a second marriage work.”

Another statement with outlandish implications. The man had been married to the mother of his children and now wanted to be married again to someone who had children by another man? How outraged Society’s dragons would be to hear Alex refer so casually to second marriages.

“So, Aldridge, how many times have you been married?”

Aldridge ignored the question, still thinking about Alex’s statement. Perhaps his interpretation was wrong.  “May I… I do not wish to give offence, so please tell me if I breach courtesy in asking this… may I confirm that I understand correctly? Your children live with their mother. And the woman you would marry lives near the father of her children.

‘But you speak of a second marriage. You are both divorced, then? And all the parties work together so that the children can see their fathers and their mothers?”

“Dude. That is the least offensive thing you could say.” Alex smiled at Aldridge, clearly not offended.

“Yes, Leslie is divorced from her first husband, the father of her children. They both live in Denver. I am divorced from my first wife, who is the mother of my children. She lives near me here. We’re actually required by law to make things work. If Leslie moved the children here without her ex-husband’s permission, a judge could put her in jail. And so far, her husband won’t agree to let her move here.

“Truthfully, I can’t say I blame the guy, but it’s frustrating. Leslie and I… I can’t stand being without her. She lives 1800 miles away, so we only get to see each other every few months. The last time I got to see her, it was only for a couple of days; I was in the middle of a tour, so I couldn’t stay long.”

He held up his brandy snifter to catch the attention of the waitress. She nodded in his direction. He sat the glass down and looked at Aldridge.

“I didn’t realize divorce was common in 1810. Or even legal, I guess.”

“It isn’t common,” Aldridge confirmed. “It requires a Bill in Parliament, which means washing the family’s dirty linen in full view of every gossip in England.”

Not an option for any person of consequence. No decent man would do that to his wife and children, not any respectable woman, either, unless in peril of her life.

“A man can get a divorce and custody of his children if he proves his wife was unfaithful. A woman has to prove extreme cruelty, and even then she might not keep the children. A man might survive the scandal, but a woman? I can only imagine what would drive a woman to such a course.”

He took another slow sip of brandy, saying out loud the doom his father had been enjoining on him all this last visit to Margate.

“I’ll have to marry some day. When I do, it will be for the rest of my life.”

Alex said, “Oh boy. It works much differently now. It’s mostly paperwork. You file papers in court, and if a judge agrees that the division of assets is equitable, then six months later, you’re single again.”

It couldn’t possibly be as easy as that. Could it? Aldridge took another bite of the excellent bread. Alex was still talking.

“I hope it works out forever with Leslie. I love her more than I ever thought I could love someone. When we’re together, I feel like I can conquer the world. Do you have a girlfriend?”

At two score and ten, he was old for a girl, but he’d have to choose one, he supposed. A girl who was a friend? He had largely ignored this year’s crop of debutantes, but it seemed unlikely he’d find a friend in their ranks. How he wished…  Well. No point in that. “I envy you, Alex. And I hope it works out for you, too.”

“I’ll marry some women with the right lineage, and for the land or political advantage she offers my family. It doesn’t matter for me… I think I’m not capable of the kind of love you mention. But I feel sorry for the poor lady I marry.” Despite his determination, his mind drifted back to his mistress, and he heard himself saying, “If I could love, I expect I’d be head over heels for Becky, the woman I am going to now. She’s… well, she’s a fine woman. Beautiful, intelligent, kind. I could see spending the rest of my life with Becky.”

If he married his mistress, elevated her to future Duchess of Haverford, the dragons would tear her to pieces. They would never accept her. They would not rest until they had destroyed her and her children with her. He could not subject her to that horror.

See Keisha’s post for her hero’s point of view, and find out how he feels about Aldridge’s revelations.

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Julie Doherty and Scent of the Soul

Today, I welcome Julie Doherty to the blog. Julie is talking about Scent of the Soul, a novel set in twelfth century Scotland.

Do you base any of your characters on real people?

Yes, and since I write historicals, that means carefully threading plots through known events.

SCENT OF THE SOUL features Somerled of Argyll, twelfth century progenitor of many of the Highland clans so popular in fiction today.

My second novel, SCATTERED SEEDS, features Edward and Henry McConnell, two of my ancestors. Like so many eighteenth century Ulstermen, they pinned all hope on a new life in “Amerikay.” How could they know war was about to break out on the frontier with the French and their Indian allies?

Many of my characters are based on people I’ve observed during the mundane activities of my daily life. For example, there’s a scene in SCENT OF THE SOUL where my heroine feels Somerled’s presence before she sees him.

Blackness closed in around her until the room disappeared and took the music and murmur of the crowd with it. She rocked on her heels, unsteady in the infinite shadow, with nothing for company but the king’s scent and her own thrashing heart.

She knew when he moved closer. The heat of him seared her back. Her ears rang, and she felt sick.

Twenty years ago, I experienced this at a gas station when a man stepped into the checkout line behind me. As we inched toward the cash register, I felt an incredible energy emanating from him. There was nothing sexual about it—just a magnetic pull, like I already knew him somehow. Did we know each other in another lifetime? Were we somehow connected? I’ll never know, because I paid for my gas and ran like my pants were on fire.

Who is your favourite character in the book you’re showing us today?

Man, that’s hard. I love Somerled, because he’s so perfect in his imperfection. I love Breagha, because she’s so innocent and trusting. And even though Semjaza (the demon who comes between Somerled and Breagha’s happiness) is downright vile, I adore him because he’s so interesting. Just when we think he can’t sink any lower, he introduces us to a new level of wickedness.

Of everyone, though, my favorite character is Raam, Semjaza’s son. He grew up motherless in a dark lair, the target of Semjaza’s incessant abuse. Because he’s never known love, when he finds it, he’s willing to sacrifice everything to keep it, even his very life.

He writhed and arched his back as his first pain seared through him like molten silver. It did nothing to weaken the joy that swelled his heart. Her face swirled above his, and her tears splattered against his jerkin. He closed his eyes.

If death is the price for even a single moment like this, he thought, it is worth the cost.

What’s your favourite scene and why?

I loved writing the scene where one monk kills another, because I was furious at someone in real life that day.

Raam flipped the cowl off his head with enough violence to tear it in two. “You piece of maggot-infested dung!” He kicked the monk’s corpse, still raging over the dead man’s infatuation with the girl. “May the kites”—he booted—“peck out”—he booted again—“your eyeballs!” Its gaunt limbs flailed as it rolled into a ditch, its expression testifying to the forest canopy that death had come as a terrible shock.

I mean, you just can’t do that in real life, but in a story? Heck, yeah. Better than six weeks of therapy.

I also loved the scene where aged Elisad refuses to relinquish my heroine to the three warriors sent by the king, because it shows the depth of an adoptive mother’s love.

Breagha squealed and tightened her embrace. Elisad pulled her deeper into the corner. “Ye’ll be takin’ this lassie out o’ here o’er my festerin’ corpse!” She shrieked the words, but they sounded muffled to Breagha, whose right ear pressed against the old woman’s bosom.

“Wife, ye old fool,” Harald said, taking another step toward the corner, “the king has sent—”

Breagha heard the scrape of iron as Elisad lifted the fire poker from its peg.

Instantly, the room rang out with the high-pitched sing!-sing!-sing! of three drawn swords.

“Woman!” Harald’s voice raised an octave. He placed a hand over his heart. “Odin’s lost eyeball, ye know as well as I that they’ll kill ye dead!” He turned to the warriors, “Gi’ me time to reason wi’ her. The woman’s got a wicked temper.”

What was the hardest scene to write and why?

First, you should know that bringing my Irish husband to the USA required a four-year immigration battle. During that time, he couldn’t enter the USA, so I had to go to him. My boss allowed seventeen paid vacation days per year, so I was only able to spend one week with my husband every six months.

The worst of it was when our weekly visit ended and we faced another long separation. I will never forget the depth of despair I felt each time my bus pulled away from my beloved.

I relived that heartache while writing this scene:

Somerled grew smaller on the jetty. The helmsman began to sing a Psalm, and sixteen of Argyll’s men put their backs into their work, their oars boiling the waters of the sound.  She fell backward against an oarsman’s knees. In the moment it took to regain her balance, the mist had taken Somerled from her.

The second hardest scene is the one where Breagha is hiding inside a tent, surrounded by her attackers:

She dropped the flap and hid under Somerled’s cloak, crawling as far away from the tent entrance as she could. She could hear little else but the rush of blood in her ears. She was dizzy, and her body convulsed. She whimpered, trying against all odds to remain quiet. She covered her ears, and then uncovered them, unable to decide if she wanted to hear anything.

In 2010, I suffered a home invasion that gave me the tools to write the above paragraph. You just can’t imagine what goes through your mind when you’re kneeling behind your bed, certain you are going to die.

Where do you want to be in 10 years’ time?

The one thing I know for sure is that I still want to be living next to my neighbor, Dan. The other day, Dan brought me a bottle of wine, some Celtic cheddar cheese, and smoked salmon—for no other reason than to feed my muse. Every writer should have a guy like Dan living next door.

Seriously, though, in ten years, I would love to be writing full-time, maybe even editing. It must be wonderful to wake and know that you can devote your entire day to your craft.

For now, my day job as a legal assistant pays the bills. (B-O-R-I-N-G) I’m glad for the regular paycheck, but working full-time (and the accompanying 35-mile commute) means writing time is hard to come by, and marketing time is virtually non-existent. I sometimes rise at 5:30 a.m., write during my lunch break, and then again from 6:30 p.m. until bedtime. I’ve even been known to write during traffic jams or while on hold at my job. (Shh, don’t tell the police or my boss.)

I can only hope that in ten years, when I introduce myself, the person I’m addressing will ask, “Julie Doherty? The Julie Doherty?”

Meet The Julie Doherty

Julie_007 smallJulie is a member of RWA and Central PA Romance Writers. When not writing, she enjoys antiquing, shooting longbow, traveling, and cooking over an open fire at her cabin. She lives in Pennsylvania with her Irish husband, who sounds a lot like her characters.

Back Cover Blurb for SCENT OF THE SOUL:

ScentOfTheSoul600In twelfth century Scotland, it took a half-Gael with a Viking name to restore the clans to their rightful lands. Once an exile, Somerled the Mighty now dominates the west. He’s making alliances, expanding his territory, and proposing marriage to the Manx princess.

It’s a bad time to fall for Breagha, a torc-wearing slave with a supernatural sense of smell.

Somerled resists the intense attraction to a woman who offers no political gain, and he won’t have a mistress making demands on him while he’s negotiating a marriage his people need. Besides, Breagha belongs to a rival king, one whose fresh alliance Somerled can’t afford to lose.

It’s when Breagha vanishes that Somerled realizes just how much he needs her. He abandons his marriage plans to search for her, unprepared for the evil lurking in the shadowy recesses of Ireland—a lustful demon who will stop at nothing to keep Breagha for himself.

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