Posts Tagged ‘historical romance’

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Howdy Ma’am

Kelly_Boyce | April 20th, 2011

The Outlaw Bride I love me a good cowboy. I love the grittiness of the Old West, the challenges settlers faced, the lawlessness, the imperfect justice, the simplicity of life (not that it was simple by any means!), the sense of community and family. I was weaned on Clint Eastwood’s spaghetti westerns. My Saturday mornings as a kid were filled with re-runs of The Big Valley and Bonanza. I devoured Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series. I greeted my mother in the morning with a, ‘Howdy, ma’am.’ Writing in this genre was a natural fit for me.

Natural, but not easy. The Outlaw Bride took many twists and turns from first draft to final submission. Characters came and went, relationships changed, people lived, then died, then were resurrected, only to be killed off again. Subplots met a similar fate. At one point, my manuscript ballooned to 110,000 words (this was around Revision 4), before finally being culled back, streamlined, refocused. I was done.

Or so I thought.

An 11th hour epiphany sent me back to the drawing board. It was one of those moments where you’re shaking your head wondering how the heck you could have missed something so obvious. Of course Rogan should be Kate’s husband, not her brother-in-law! One final sweep of the manuscript fixed this last element then off to Carina Press it went.

I received The Call in August 2010 while at work. It came in on my cell while I spoke to my boyfriend on my office phone (I was hard at work as you can see…). I hung up on him then in stunned silence listened as Angela James told me they would love to publish The Outlaw Bride. In fact, I think my first words to her, once the brain freeze wore off, were, “That was so worth hanging up on my boyfriend for!” Luckily he’s the forgiving sort. But hey, no one ever did say the road to true love ran smooth.

A fact Connor and Kate learned the hard way.

Katherine Slade has two goals: to escape her outlaw husband and to find the family of the man who died saving her life. Taking the place of a mail-order bride isn’t part of her plan—until she’s forced to continue the charade and become Sheriff Connor Langston’s housekeeper to stay out of jail. Pretending to be another woman is hard, but Katherine’s real challenge is resisting her growing attraction to the handsome lawman…

Falling in love is the last thing Connor needs, even if the rest of Fatal Bluff wants him to. His hands are full with a band of outlaws threatening the safety of his town, and a child to raise. But Kate has a way of getting under his skin and into little Jenny’s heart. Soon Connor can’t get the fiery beauty out of his head—along with his suspicion that Kate isn’t who she claims to be.

When Connor learns the truth about Kate, is there any way for this outlaw bride to become the sheriff’s wife?

You can buy The Outlaw Bride HERE.

I hope you enjoy your journey to Fatal Bluff as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Website: www.kellyboyce.com

Facebook: Kelly Boyce, Author

Twitter: @KellyLBoyce

Bio: Kelly Boyce hails from Nova Scotia where cowboys are scarce but Scotsmen are plenty. A big history buff, she writes all time periods but has a soft spot for the Old West. She is currently at work on Book 2 in the Brides of Fatal Bluff series. She loves to hear from readers and hopes you’ll swing by and see her on Facebook and Twitter.

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Posted in Carina Press | 8 Comments »

My First Time

Susanna Fraser | April 13th, 2011

A Marriage of Inconvenience is my second published book, but it’s the first one I finished. And also the third.
A Marriage of Inconvenience
How is that possible, you may ask?  Well, the version I call my first book was, frankly, an unpublishable mess. It was 150,000 words, a fine length for, say, an epic fantasy, but just a tad long for a historical romance/coming-of-age story whose entire plot takes place over less than two months. I wrote it in the heroine’s first person point of view, which isn’t necessarily a bad choice, but one that imposes certain limitations on a romance plot. It had secondary characters enough for a Tolstoy novel and was written in a stylized, self-consciously historical voice.

After finishing that first draft, I tried to sell it (because I was too new to recognize an unpublishable mess when I saw one).  Upon getting universally rejected, I realized maybe I had something yet to learn about this whole writing business, joined RWA, started going to writing conferences and studied craft books. I wrote The Sergeant’s Lady, whose heroine is a secondary character in A Marriage of Inconvenience. By the time I finished Sergeant I knew I wanted to revisit Marriage now that I had a better sense of how to, you know, WRITE.

So I made a new outline that chopped out half the subplots and extraneous secondary characters, reconsidered the hero and heroine’s character arcs and started over from scratch. Not a single scene from the first manuscript appears in the published version of Marriage–which is why I say it’s also my third book.

But that first version of the book, the one you’ll never ever see, is as dear to my heart as anything else I’ve ever written. All because I finished it.

I’d been starting novels since I was 15 or so. In high school there must have been at least a dozen wish fulfillment YA romances with heroines who were brainy band/quiz team/drama geeks like me, only petite where I was tall and possessed of spectacular coloring (auburn hair! turquoise eyes!) where I had ordinary brown hair and eyes. I’d get about three chapters into each one before getting bored and abandoning them.

As I moved into college and my early 20’s, I didn’t start as many stories, but I got deeper into them before giving up. There were two about young women who’d left small-town Southern homes for urban East Coast colleges, so I hadn’t lost my autobiographical urge yet, but the wish fulfillment and rarely-found-in-nature coloring were toned down. And then there was the huge epic fantasy that I honestly believe I would’ve finished if I hadn’t gone to England for a year, met my future husband (another American volunteer in the same program) and got distracted getting married and moving from Philly to Seattle.

I loved to write and kept having ideas for stories. But I’d long since concluded I wasn’t capable of finishing anything and therefore wasn’t a real writer. When I first got the idea for Marriage, I resisted it for the longest time. Why put in the time if I was just going to drop it after 100 pages or so?

But the heroine, Lucy Jones, just wouldn’t leave me alone. I wanted to dive into her character and show readers how an outwardly quiet, meek and powerless woman could have tremendous inner strength that would lead her to triumph once she learned how to deploy it.

At last I said, “OK, since you won’t shut up, I’ll write you. Maybe after 50 pages or so, you’ll leave me in peace.” But she didn’t. I kept writing. Every week, and almost every day. I took a class at the local community college that expected us to bring in pages for critique, so on my worst weeks I at least managed 10 pages so I’d have something new to take in. And I think it made a HUGE difference that I was finally writing in a genre I actually READ. No wonder I never finished any of those YA contemporaries or semi-literary coming-of-age novels. 90% of the novels I read are set in either the past or a fantasy or science fiction world, so I don’t know why I expected myself to write anything different. (Susanna’s lesson for writers: Writing what you love is more important than writing what you know.)

It took a little over a year, but one day I wrote the last page. James and Lucy were married, they were happy together, and they had confessed their love to each other. I typed in five centered hashmarks below my final sentence, as a manuscript formatting guide I’d found recommended. I had finished a book. Never before or since have I felt that same combination of joy, power, and elation. On days when I’m feeling tired or discouraged, when I just don’t feel like sitting down at the computer, I go back to that moment and how happy I was. That’s when I knew I was a real author, that I was doing what I was meant to do.  A quote from Firefly came to mind  (I find that many of life’s most intense moments have appropriate Joss Whedon quotes): “No power in the ‘verse can stop me.”

Your turn! Tell me the story of the first time you fulfilled a dream. Or tell me your favorite Joss Whedon quote!

For more information about A Marriage of Inconvenience, including an excerpt, visit my website. You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook.

A Marriage of Inconvenience is available at Carina, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other retailers.

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Posted in Authors, Books, Carina Press | 8 Comments »

Fairy Tale Retellings

Nicole_North | March 23rd, 2011

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We’re all adults here, at least I hope we are, so why would we be interested in fairy tales?

Folklore, fairy tales, myths and legends are timeless simply because they are so ancient. There’s no way to know how old some of them are because, even before they were written down, they were part of an oral tradition that likely goes back to prehistory.

Telling tales by firelight in the evenings was a tradition and one of the few forms of entertainment, along with music. TV hadn’t been invented and most people couldn’t read or write. Some of the elders, or maybe the bard in a castle, would tell stories in the form of poetry or song. These usually had a moral or expressed some larger truth than the simple story itself. Often they are stories of good vs. evil.

Many fairy tales have been rewritten, sometimes for children, and sometimes for adults… such as the hot or erotic fairy tales.

A fun aspect of retelling a fairy tale or legend is that you get to flesh out all the details that are missing from the original. For instance, the ancient Scottish legend which Laird of Darkness is based on, Combats that Never End, is only about seven pages in length. My novella is around a hundred pages, double spaced. In my version of the story, the worldbuilding and characterization are much more fleshed out and detailed.

I especially enjoyed transforming the flat, stock characters into three-dimensional, real people with difficult to solve problems, goals and dreams.

Here is the blurb for my story, Laird of Darkness, released on Monday, March 21 from Carina Press:

Half-Fae Laird Duncan MacDougall is cursed. His nights are haunted by Otherworld creatures sent to kill him. The only way to stop them is to possess the magic bow currently in the hands of his enemy half-brother, Kinnon MacClaren. In desperation, Duncan plans to take MacClaren’s bride-to-be hostage and exchange her for the bow.

Lady Alana Forbes has never met her intended, but she hopes he is handsome-and a good lover, for Alana is no innocent virgin. On her way to Castle Claren, Alana and her escorts are intercepted, and she is kidnapped by a man with extraordinary abilities-and every attribute she longs for in a mate.

Duncan didn’t expect the woman he thought of as a mere pawn would be so beautiful, and so arousing. Alana is drawn to him as well—but Duncan still needs the bow, and Alana is betrothed to another. How far will Alana go to save the life of the man she’s come to love?

—

One problem I saw with the original fairy tale was that the character Duncan is based upon had weak motivation for taking the heroine hostage—jealousy of his enemy. I created an in depth, strong motivation for him and in the process added loads to the worldbuilding aspect of the whole story. As a result, the former villain becomes a tortured but very sympathetic hero.

Another character who gets a transformation is the man who was the hero in the ancient legend. Kinnon MacClaren is based on him. In my version, he becomes a villain in Duncan’s eyes, and to an extent in Alana’s eyes as well. But she doesn’t fear him. When she confronts him, we see that he isn’t 100% villain. He has good traits and bad ones, like Duncan, and much like a real person. He sees the situation from his own perspective, just as the other two characters do. As they say, there are two sides to every story. Or in this case, three sides, because the heroine of my story, Alana, is a much stronger character than the ancient one she’s based on. As you can probably tell from the blurb, Alana isn’t just a kidnapped damsel in distress. She’s a gifted healer and a woman with experience who isn’t afraid to speak her mind and let Duncan know exactly what she wants.

In my retelling, there were several elements I changed including a twist at the end.

It’s fun to create a new story out of an old one, sometimes an ancient one.

Do you enjoy reading traditional fairy tales or legends retold and rewritten in new ways? What are your favorites?

Laird of Darkness is available at Carina Press and other online booksellers.

Read the first chapter of Laird of Darkness at my website.

Nicole North’s erotic romance novellas have been described by reviewers as “exciting, high octane, captivating, scintillating, sinfully delicious and pure romance.” Her stories contain “heart and heat, killer love scenes, magic and extraordinary characters.” She has sold four stories to Red Sage Publishing. Laird of Darkness is her first novella for Carina Press. Nicole’s stories usually focus on her favorite things: Scotland, Highlanders and hot men in kilts. She and her husband live in the Southeastern US, but she wishes she lived in the Scottish Highlands at least half the year. As she puts it, Scotland is a beautiful, magical and enchanting place where anything seems possible. She teaches online workshops about various aspects of writing, including sexual tension and how to write great love scenes. Though she has a degree in psychology, writing romance is her first love. Please visit her website at  http://www.nicolenorth.com/

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Posted in Authors, Books, Carina Press | 16 Comments »

Another Dinner: an excerpt from The Spurned Viscountess

Shelley_Munro | September 22nd, 2010

The Spurned ViscountessTo finish up today I have an excerpt from The Spurned Viscountess—a dinner scene. Rosalind has recently arrived at Castle St. Clare and she’s learned Viscount Hastings isn’t very keen on marriage to her. She’s feeling a little lost and frustrated at the same time.

Rosalind pushed a slice of stringy roast beef around her plate and wished the night was over, that the wedding was over and all the guests had left Castle St. Clare. A sharp prod of a mystery lump with her fork did little to disperse her resentment, so she scowled down the table at Hastings, but he never looked in her direction. To lull her agitation, she picked up her glass of French wine and stared into the depths of the ruby liquid, only to set it down again with a soft sigh.

Lady Pascoe laughed without warning. Rosalind glanced up in time to catch the speculative look in the older woman’s eyes. “The gel won’t survive the marriage bed,” she declared. “Doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive. Doesn’t drink much either. Get some of that good smuggler’s wine inside you, gel.”

Heat stung Rosalind’s cheeks when she intercepted the amused glances from those seated within hearing distance. She speared a morsel of jugged hare, placed it in her mouth, and chewed stoically.

“Enough, Elizabeth,” Lady Augusta snapped. “That’s hardly a proper topic for dinner conversation.”

“It’s true.” Lady Pascoe directed a query farther down the table. “What do you say, Charles? This latest batch of wine from the smugglers should build the gel’s strength.”

Her rusty cackle set Rosalind’s nerves even more on edge. The pounding in her head intensified, and she gave up all pretence of eating.

A feminine titter at the other end of the table made her wince. It was bad enough that Lady Pascoe shouted loud enough for those in the neighboring village to heed, but for Lady Sophia, daughter of the Earl of Radford, to hear and giggle was beyond embarrassing. Rosalind studied them furtively. The tilt of Lady Sophia’s head as she fluttered her eyelashes at Hastings made it obvious she was avoiding direct eye contact with his scar. Despite her coquettish behavior, the imperfection bothered her. Lady Sophia placed her hand on Hastings’s arm. Rosalind’s eyes narrowed at the familiar action. That was her betrothed Lady Sophia was flirting with.

Rosalind bit back a nasty word, one she’d overheard the coachman use during the journey to St. Clare. Naively, she’d presumed her betrothal would be a time of celebration, of giddy happiness. Not for an instant had she thought her betrothed would ignore her or suggest she cry off. She shuddered inwardly at the idea of returning to live with her uncle and aunt. No, it was unthinkable.

Dinner continued. The footmen removed the tablecloth to serve dessert.

Finally the meal ended and Lady Augusta stood. “We will leave the men to their port and pipes.”

Rosalind trailed after the rest of the women as they wandered through to the Chinese Drawing Room. She chose an upright chair, as far away from the roaring fire as she could, and tried to look inconspicuous. Lady Augusta waited for the ladies to settle before glancing around the expectant faces. “Rosalind, you may entertain us while I pour tea.”

Rosalind wanted to refuse. She hated to play the harpsichord and always had. She hesitated, hoping one of the other women would offer, releasing her from obligation.

But Lady Pascoe shooed her toward the harpsichord. “Go on, gel. Play. Something lively. Augusta, I hope you purchased some tea from the latest shipment. The last lot you served tasted like straw dipped in water.”

Several of the ladies tittered, and Lady Augusta’s gloved hand tightened around the teapot.

“I serve nothing but the best at Castle St. Clare,” Lady Augusta said in an icy tone. “Rosalind, music, if you please.”

Bowing to the inevitable, she settled behind the harpsichord, drew off her gloves and cast them aside. At least they hadn’t demanded she sing.

Purchase The Spurned Viscountess

Note: everyone who comments on my posts today will go into my quarterly draw to win a $25 Amazon voucher. The winner will be announced at my blog during the first week of October.

Shelley Munro lives in New Zealand and enjoys cooking and experimenting with new recipes of all types. You can visit Shelley’s website at www.shelleymunro.com or follow her on Facebook or Twitter. To keep up with all Shelley’s current news and to enter subscriber only contests subscribe to Shelley’s newsletter.

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Posted in Authors, Books, Excerpt | 21 Comments »

An Invitation to Dinner

Shelley_Munro | September 22nd, 2010

When I wrote The Spurned Viscountess one of the things I researched was eighteenth century food and kitchens so I could flesh out my dinner scene and another one I’d set in the castle kitchen. This research was no hardship since I enjoy anything food related. I collected lots of interesting facts, too many to use in my story, much to my disappointment.

The Spurned ViscountessUnwilling to waste anything, I thought I’d inflict them on you. :grin: Here are a few of the facts about eighteenth century food and kitchens I couldn’t use:

1. Kitchen walls were white-washed or painted shades of blue to repel flies.

2. Cooks commanded high wages and good cooks were scarce.

3. It was fashionable to hire a French chef and their wages were double those of an English cook. A French chef earned around sixty pounds per year.

4. Many of the French chefs were temperamental and had huge egos.

5. Each kitchen contained a clock for the cook’s benefit. If the meals were running late sometimes the cook would put the clock back to make it appear there was nothing amiss with her timing.

6. White tablecloths were used to cover the dining tables. The English often used the cloths as serviettes as well, much to the disgust of foreign visitors. Servants removed the tablecloths before the serving of dessert.

7. After dessert, the ladies retired to the drawing room for tea and entertainment.

8. The men remained in the dining room to drink port or brandy. Chamber pots were left on the sideboard for the men to use to relieve themselves. They did this without any sort of concealment.

My favorite research book for anything food-related during historical times is The Art of Dining – a history of cooking and eating by Sara Paston-Williams. I used it as a source for the above facts.

What do you think about eighteenth century dining? Would you like to time travel back to cook in a kitchen or dine with the gentry, given the above info?

Note: everyone who comments on my posts today will go into my quarterly draw to win a $25 Amazon voucher. The winner will be announced at my blog during the first week of October.

Shelley Munro lives in New Zealand and enjoys cooking and experimenting with new recipes. You can visit Shelley’s website at www.shelleymunro.com or follow her on Facebook or Twitter. To keep up with all Shelley’s current news and to enter subscriber only contests subscribe to Shelley’s newsletter.

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Posted in Authors, Books, Carina Press | 14 Comments »

Lavender and Bath Bombs

Shelley_Munro | September 22nd, 2010

The Spurned ViscountessHealing is an old art, developed from the time our first ancestors discovered the health benefits of different plants. Throughout the ages man has experimented and learned which plants soothe, which ones smell nice or provide color suitable for dyes and those that are poisonous. Generations of healers have passed on this knowledge with some herbs paving the way for modern day drugs.

My heroine Rosalind in The Spurned Viscountess is a healer. She also possesses the sight, a power she attempts to hide because it scares people. Every time she visits the village, she takes her bag of herbal supplies so she can treat those who are sick. She also mixes up an ointment for Lady Augusta to help ease her arthritis. Rosalind picks her supplies from the gardens around Castle St. Clare. One of the herbs she uses in her ointment and rub for Lady Augusta is lavender.

Lavender has a wonderful scent. It has antibacterial properties, and the oil is used to treat cuts, bites, stings, burns, coughs and colds along with rheumatic aches, giddiness and flatulence. It’s also a soothing herb and helps to relieve tension, insomnia and depression. A sprig of lavender behind the ear is said to cure headaches.

Lavender leaves can be added to salads. They are also used to flavor jellies, jams, and vinegars. The flowers can be crystallized. I’ve eaten lavender shortbread and mustards, and both are delicious.

The dried flowers are lovely in a potpourri and are a good freshener. Dried lavender sachets deter moths in the linen cupboard.

Like Rosalind, I enjoy lavender. We have it growing in our garden, and I often dry the flowers. Last weekend I made some lavender bath bombs.

Lavender Bomb

Here’s the recipe for Bath Bombs:

1 ½ cups baking soda

¾ cup citric acid

2 teaspoons essential oil

1 – 2 teaspoons natural food coloring

Sieve the baking soda and citric acid to remove lumps. Mix all ingredients thoroughly and place in molds. Pack firmly and leave overnight to firm.

Notes: I used lavender oil in mine. Make sure you use natural food coloring because coloring containing water will react with the baking soda. If the mixture is a bit dry, add a little witch hazel. (available from the chemist/drug store). I used mini muffin tins as my molds.  Oh, and I added a bit much color. When I make more bath bombs, I intend to aim for pale blue not baboon bottom blue! :grin:

Sources:

Brother Cadfael’s Herb Garden, an illustrated companion to Medieval Plants and their Uses by Rob Talbot and Robin Whiteman.

Recipe: Better Homes & Gardens TV show

Do you use herbs in your cooking and around the home? Which ones are your favorites?

Note: everyone who comments on my posts today will go into my quarterly draw to win a $25 Amazon voucher. The winner will be announced at my blog during the first week of October.

Shelley Munro lives in New Zealand and enjoys cooking and experimenting with new recipes of all types. You can visit Shelley’s website at www.shelleymunro.com or follow her on Facebook or Twitter. To keep up with all Shelley’s current news and to enter subscriber only contests subscribe to Shelley’s newsletter.

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Posted in Behind the Scenes, Books, Carina Press | 10 Comments »

Reading Rakes and Radishes

Susanna_Ives | September 14th, 2010

An excerpt from Rakes and Radishes:

The door swung open and the reek of livestock and mud assaulted her nose as her neighbor’s tall form ducked under the doorframe. He wore his usual ensemble of muddy doeskins and a worn green coat. Shaggy chestnut curls sticky with perspiration and in terrible need of a barber fell into his gray eyes. Fuzzy side-whiskers softened his otherwise hard, lean face. Judging from the dirt under his nails, one would think he hadn’t a passel of farmhands and tenants and was reduced to planting crops with his fingers. His hound Samuel, a big boned, thick brown dog of no obvious breed, trotted in behind him, sniffing about the floor.

When Samuel saw Henrietta, he scrambled around his master’s boots and jabbed his nose under the hem of her skirt. She knelt, letting the happy hound give her wet licks on her cheek. She looked up. Kesseley stared down at her, unsmiling. His face wore that tight expression again, chin high, eyes hard—the look she always pretended not to notice. If only he could be a tenth as pleased as his dog to see her.

“Good morning, Samuel, and you too, Kesseley.” She rose and gave him a nervous smile. “You look like you’ve been enjoying yourself this morning.”

“I was in the fields.”

“Where else would you be but in your beloved dirt?” She chuckled, hoping he would do the same. Instead, he looked down at his mud-caked boots, a frown bending his lips.

“I’m finishing the planting,” he said. “We’re starting a new crop rotation schedule this year.”

“The one from…Flanders?” His head jerked up, a light sparked in his eyes, and Henrietta felt her heart lighten.

“I thought my talk of farming bored you,” he said.

“Still, I remembered every word.” She touched his wrist. A wave of gentle warmth moved through her. She missed the times when it was so easy between them. “I suppose you will be leaving for the Season in a few days.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve made you a little surprise present, but you must come to the house to get it.”

Finally a grin, albeit a tiny one, crossed his face. “Henrietta? A secret? You know you can’t keep secrets. You might as well tell me before you blurt it by accident.”

“That is not true. I keep many secrets from you. You just tend to remember the unfortunate surprise present for your ninth birthday.”

“Just tell me.”

“But I won’t.” She wagged a teasing finger before his face. “I will make you wait in unbearable anticipation.”

“Do you want me to tell everyone how years ago you tried to run away with a traveling production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream masquerading as a fairy, and I had to dash off to Ely to save you?”

“You always hold that over me, don’t you?” she cried, in mock annoyance, but then giggled. “Well, I daresay, I would be leading a much more exciting life traipsing around England in gaudy green pixie wings than stuck here.”

His eyes flashed. “Yes, you’ve made it quite clear that you don’t care for our village or…” He halted, but even so the arrested words hung in the air, so loud he could have shouted them. Or me. You don’t care for me.

That familiar, prickly awkwardness filled the air.

“A diary!” she cried, trying to recapture the previous moment when he had been smiling. “I made you one. That’s the surprise.” She opened her palms and shrugged her shoulders. “You are right, I can’t keep secrets.”

“A diary?” He hiked a brow.

“Since you are going to London for the Season to find, well, a wife, I thought that you could write about when…when…” Oh Lud, suddenly her present seemed like the stupidest idea she’d ever had. “When you meet her,” she finished.

“Her?”

“Your future wife. So you can capture the moment forever in your heart and never let it fade away.”

The muscles at the back of his jaw twitched. She felt so foolish. She just wanted him to fall in love with a wonderful lady as she had fallen in love with Edward. “I’ve done
the wrong thing again, haven’t I?” she said.

“No, it’s nice. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“I always think of you,” she whispered. “You’re my dearest friend.”

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Posted in Authors, Carina Press, Excerpt | 9 Comments »

Researching Rakes and Radishes

Susanna_Ives | September 14th, 2010

I married a Viking – a man with a genetic code programmed for wanderlust. Even as I write this blog, he is booking airline tickets and hotels for a conference in Europe. Typically, I remain in our huis, watching our børn. But sometimes he says the magic words, “I have to go to London.” That’s when I make him cash in all his frequent flyer points to take me, the kids, and my mom along.

Most of Rakes and Radishes is set in Regency London. Back when I was writing the story, I’d strap the children into the Maclaren, the best stroller in the entire universe, and I would head out onto the London streets armed with a free tourist map and a digital camera. Keep in mind, my children were not the sort to sit contentedly in a stroller or anywhere for that matter, but somehow they sensed that their mother meant business and would actually sit still for hours at a time — or maybe they were terrified of the traffic, who knows. I covered most of Mayfair pushing that stroller, hauling it up and down steps. I mapped out where my characters lived on Curzon Street and the routes they took as they moved about the city. I mentally overlayed what I knew about London in 1819 and wrote a chapter describing the monuments Henrietta would see as she entered the city for the first time, including Almack’s, St. James’s Palace, Grosvenor Square and Hyde Park.

I love London, but I also love continental Europe. I even lived in the Netherlands for a year. I created a Flemish astronomer and named him Pieter Van Heerlen, after the town of Heerlen where I spent an afternoon at the police station trying to get an alien stamp on my passport after a little “incident” with the Dutch Aliens Police.

I also created a German tailor and princess. Aachen, Germany (Charlemagne’s hang out) is one of my favorite places. But to be honest, most of my memories of Germany are of being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for hours on the autobahn with a bored baby because, inevitably, we travelled when there was a school vacation. I don’t know any German, but my husband assured me that he remembered German from his summers as an exchange student. Wrong! Unfortunately, my characters wanted to do more than just order beer. It was serendipitous that I met a German woman during the editing process, who kindly corrected my husband’s words, pointing out that I probably wanted to send my hero to a ball and not a political party.

And finally, I’m indebted to Nancy Mayer, a Regency historian who patiently answered every one of my Regency 101 questions. “How do you get the mail in 1819?” and “How much does it cost to take a hack from Mayfair to the Royal Observatory?”

The time that I spent writing this story may have driven my family crazy, but I thoroughly enjoyed the research process. I hope that my story captures this colorful time in British history.

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Posted in Authors, Behind the Scenes, Carina Press | 20 Comments »

Raising Rakes and Radishes

Susanna_Ives | September 14th, 2010

For the last few years, my job title has been “Mommie”.  My husband travels a great deal, so often it was just me at home, chasing wild, giggling toddlers around like some calf-roping rodeo competition to change diapers.  I would sit on the kitchen floor and watch my curious children take out all the Tupperware from cabinet, put it back in, and then take all the containers and lids out again. Around the two hundredth time we played this exciting game, I reached for a notebook and began scribbling stories. My prose was as wobbly as my children’s tottering steps. I wrote no descriptions and suffered from severe verb tense issues.  But I was in love and as happy as my daughter squeezing the squeaky elephant on her activity mat.

Several writing classes later, two childhood friends, Henrietta and Kesseley, appeared on my page and began conversing.  Henrietta was vivacious, ambitious, and prone to fantasy. Kesseley was gentle, patient, and in love with nature. Henrietta idealized the rakish heroes she read about in Gothic novels.  Having suffered at the hand of his libertine father, Kesseley cared nothing for rakes and their self-indulgent pursuits.  Henrietta longed to leave their small village for the excitement of London. Kesseley could think of nothing better than spending his life farming his land. Eventually their love story became Rakes and Radishes.

Here is the back cover blurb of Rakes and Radishes:

When Henrietta Watson learns that the man she loves plans to marry London’s most beautiful and fashionable debutante, she plots to win him back. She’ll give him some competition by transforming her boring bumpkin neighbor, the Earl of Kesseley, into a rakish gothic hero worthy of this Season’s Diamond.

After years of unrequited love for Henrietta, Kesseley is resigned to go along with her plan and woo himself a willing bride. But once in London, everything changes. Kesseley, long more concerned with his land than his title, discovers that he’s interested in sowing wild oats as well as radishes. And Henrietta realizes that gothic heroes don’t make ideal husbands. Despite an explosive kiss that opens her eyes to the love that’s been in front of her all along, Henrietta must face the possibility that Kesseley is no longer looking to marry at all…

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Posted in Authors, Behind the Scenes, Carina Press | 18 Comments »

The Lion of Kent

Kate_Cotoner | August 31st, 2010

Today sees the release of our novella Lion of Kent – a medieval M/M romance set in the tumultuous twelfth century against a backdrop of politics and treason.

The character of William Raven first appeared in Alex’s short story ‘Deliverance’, and both Alex and William decided there was more to tell of William’s life. Alex invited me to co-write with him, and as I love the scheming shenanigans of the Plantagenet dynasty, I jumped at the chance. Taking as our themes the typical courtly pursuits of a medieval nobleman – hunting, tourneys, and crusading – we hope to bring you three linked tales in the Lion’s Pride series, spanning William’s life and loves.

Here’s an excerpt from Lion of Kent.

England, 1176

William gave no quarter. He struck blow by blow—fast, vicious, with little technique, but enough strength to make up for it, and an uncontrollable anger. John had hit him so hard in the knee that everything felt numb there, and William’s reaction was as much pain as surprise, which made him fly into a rage. Everything around him blurred until he was aware of nothing but his enemy. The pain radiated through him, firing his anger. His arm ached with tiredness, yet there was always another blow in him, and even though he could see fear in the other squire’s eyes, it didn’t occur to him to relent.

“Enough! William!”

He ignored the voice, refusing to obey the order. He wanted John to yield, wanted him to fall to his knees, to give up, to beg for mercy.

“William!”

Strong hands gripped his sword arm, one hand on his elbow, the other on his wrist. He whirled around, wincing when the instructor used the grip against him, changed the angle and almost made him drop to his knees. He gave up the sword, snarled, but there was also a yelp of pain.

“Sir Robert is back, you bloody fool,” Ulric hissed and let him go after a punch in the arm.

William straightened, considered taking up the training sword again, but then he realised what the instructor had said, and turned.

Men on horseback had entered the cobbled courtyard. Richly clothed, swords and shields at their sides as if they’d been worried about robbers on the road, they made a bright display against the dull stonework of the castle keep. Sir Robert de Cantilou was their leader, and William thought his lord had changed much since the day he’d left his lands. When had that been? Five years ago?

Robert’s dark hair looked now like it would in winter, in a heavy snowfall, the colour more grey than black even though his lord wasn’t an old man. He sat proud in the saddle and, William thought with a hint of shame, he wore an expression of amusement. Sir Robert must have seen him fight and lose his control.

“Well, then, now that the squires are listening, too… It’s good to be back.” Sir Robert slid off his horse, hands adjusting his sword belt. The household gathered in the yard, regarding their master in amazement. He’d arrived completely unannounced, and William wondered why that was. Why had he not sent a messenger first so everything was prepared?

Instead of lowering his gaze, William stared open-mouthed at his lord. Sir Robert was tanned, his blue eyes seemingly glowing in the dark face, and his rich red clothes played around his form in strange, outlandish splendour. His sword hilt now bore a large jewel in the pommel, and the heavy rings on his gloves sparkled in the late autumn sun. He must have made a fortune abroad, but it wasn’t the flaunting of wealth that impressed William so much. Instead, it was Robert’s bearing.

Five years ago Sir Robert had seemed cold and distant, and though he was a lord admired and respected by the people of his manor as well as by his peers, he had too little humour and too much impatience. Always fair, always just, but somehow lacking. The death of his wife had not improved matters. Rather than seeking a new bride, Robert had announced he would go on crusade. He took with him five senior knights and left the castle and his children in the capable hands of his widowed sister, Lady Alais.

In William’s limited experience, the Robert of five years ago had been much the same as any other noble, but now he’d changed. It was said that the Holy Land made its mark on a man’s soul, scouring away the bad and revealing the good. According to the Church’s rhetoric, no one—except the heathen Saracens—could walk on the same soil as the Christ and not be humbled and remade for the better. William had been sceptical, but looking on Sir Robert now, the claims seemed to be true. Never had William seen a man more confident and assured. This was how a knight should be—composed, gracious, benevolent.

He stepped forward as Robert strode past. “It’s good to see you back, sir.”

Robert paused, then glanced over his shoulder. His sharp gaze raked over William as if remembering the gangly youth he’d been and fitting that old image against the man who stood before him now.

“And you, William,” Robert said. “Seems we have a young lion in the dog kennel.”

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Posted in Authors, Books, Excerpt | 4 Comments »

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