Allison Chase's Blog, page 4

Historical Heroines Revamped

The irony of the historical heroine is that nowadays, she has to be someone modern women can relate to, while still retaining that certain quality of innocence readers have come to expect. The damsel in distress is gone, and in her place is someone more sophisticated – but take it too far and she loses the reader's sympathy. It can be a difficult balance. Outwardly, a historical heroine should be ladylike, genteel, and a bit prim, but inside she's strong-willed, intelligent, and has an independent spirit. At the outset of the story, we typically want her to be unschooled in the ways of love, but we want also to see her secret spark of passion.

To keep her interesting and relevant, I think it's important, not to make her act or think like a modern woman, but simply to give her clear goals that are independent of her relationship with the hero. In each book in Her Majesty's Secret Servants, each sister undertakes a mission for the queen, which means she finds herself having to venture into situations typically taboo for ladies of the time. But she does so with the queen's permission, and somewhat in disguise, which can be wonderfully liberating since she doesn't risk tarnishing her reputation. Unless, of course, someone discovers the truth of who she really is…

The themes I use in each book also help keep my heroines relevant. Historical heroines are no longer just trying to save the farm, or find a husband, or recover a lost inheritance. Instead, they're investigating treason and safeguarding national security. For each of the Sutherland Sisters' missions, I used very Victorian themes, but ones that are also relatable to today's world, such as financial fraud and emerging technologies. In each story, then, the heroine faces issues that actually feel familiar to us, and that makes it much easier to share her doubts and fears, and cheer her on. When she's victorious, we share in her sense of empowerment. She might rely on the hero's strength to help her, but she also relies on her own intelligence, talents, and courage in ways modern readers can approve of, while still remaining true to her time period. In this way, she's neither an old-fashioned woman nor an anachronism, but a pioneer who helped redefine women's roles. At least I'd like to think so. And I think the Sutherland Sisters would like to think so, too.

Tagged: Her Majesty's Secret Servants, heroines, historical

Egyptian Author Olivia Gates: Spread the Word!

As you know, protests are taking place in Egypt and the government has shut down internet communication. Author Olivia Gates, who lives in Egypt, has a February 1 release by Harlequin Desire called To Tempt a Sheikh. We'd like to get out the word about her book since Olivia cannot.

Please help us by posting the information below on your blog, your Facebook page or by tweeting a link to Olivia's home page. Just copy and paste the text below and this cover by right clicking your mouse. Let's support an author who cannot access the internet to promote her book.

 

TO TEMPT A SHEIKH by Olivia Gates

He rescued hostage Talia Burke from his royal family's rival tribe and swept her into his strong embrace. But Prince Harres Aal Shalaan soon discovered there was more to the brave beauty than he knew. Talia held information vital to protecting his beloved kingdom…and she had every reason not to trust him.

Marooned together at a desert oasis, Talia couldn't resist Harres. Yet even as his sizzling seduction entranced her, his loyalty to his family and country would always make them enemies. Falling for the sheikh would be her heart's greatest mistake…but she feared it was already too late….

In stores February 1!

Available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Borders, Books A Million and bookstores everywhere.

To read a first chapter and visit Olivia's webpage, click here.

Spread the word!!!

Allison's Spicy Cold-Fighting Recipe

I can almost set my calender to when I come down with colds. It's rare, first of all, but it nearly always coincides with the completion of a manuscript. One year, I handed a book in and came down with just about the worst flu I've ever had. Knocked me senseless for days.

This time, I not only finished up a book but also edits I do part time for a small publisher. The very day I found myself temporarily "work free," there it was – the scratchy throat, the runny nose, the achy back. I spent the next week with a cold, though happily not of the "rug pulled out from under me" variety. Still, I surrendered to a couple of days in bed watching The Tudors – not an entirely unhappy state of affairs, I must admit.

Then I ventured as far as the kitchen and thought, OK, what will help? I opened cabinets and the fridge, started tossing ingredients onto the counter, and came up with what I have dubbed my Super Cold-Fighting Kale Soup. I love Kale. It's loaded with nutrients, a "super food" as I've heard it dubbed, and I just happened to have a beautiful bunch of red kale I'd scored at the farmer's market days earlier.

To that I added lots of garlic, spices and stuff, and…well, I don't mean to make false claims here, but I think the combination of fresh ingredients and spice knocked those cold germs down several notches and put them in their place. Anyway, my cold immediately took a turn for the better. Coincidence? Placebo effect? Who cares! I felt better.

So here's the recipe I came up with, and the next time you feel a sniffle coming on, give it a try. If nothing else, it's super healthy so it can't hurt! You can make enough for one serving, or a big potful. Adjust as needed, which means toss in more or less…have fun!

Super Cold-Fighting Kale Soup:

Small to medium onion, coarsely chopped

2 or 3 cloves of garlic, minced

Olive Oil, to coat bottom of pan

Chili powder – a generous sprinkle or two, to taste.

Curry powder – another sprinkle

1 medium ripe tomato, chopped

Several leaves of kale, chopped or ripped into bite-sized pieces

Shredded carrot

1 can veggie broth, or a box to make more soup

Salt and coarse black pepper, to taste

1 can chick peas or white beans, drained

1/4 to 1/3 cup orzo or other small pasta

Tomato paste, for thicker soup if desired

Sauté onion and garlic in heated olive oil until soft and fragrant. Add chili and curry powders, sauté another minute. Add tomato, sauté until soft and it releases the juices. Add shredded carrot and kale, sauté until wilted. Add broth, beans, salt and pepper. For a thicker soup add a couple of tablespoons of tomato paste. Bring to boil, add pasta, then simmer until pasta is cooked.

Serve with crusty bread for a comforting meal on a cold winter's day!

Tagged: Colds, healthy eating, kale, soups

Are We Really Ever Finished?

I'm talking about final revisions before we writers turn in a manuscript. Whether you're published or not, I think the temptation to revise a manuscript to death is an ever-present threat to our creativity.

What, you ask? How can revising hurt our creativity? It's supposed to make our stories better. And up to a point that's true. I always say it's during the revisions that the true magic happens, when your ideas take on added depth and poignancy. But at the same time, in the roughness of an initial draft there's often an edgy, raw quality you should be careful not to lose. It's where the emotions are at their most honest because as you first pounded out those words, they were coming straight from your heart. Yes, you'll want to go back and make sure those words are coherent and grammatically correct and flow logically. But over-revising in the pursuit of perfection can strip away what's special about your voice and leave your story feeling a little antiseptic. Flat.

I'm not an author who subscribes to the theory that certain words should be avoided. I've judged contest entries where it was obvious the authors were dancing around the word "was," using every awkward phrasing they could think of to avoid using it. Every word in the English language is valid and usable, and even "was" can be powerful in the right context. I do subscribe to the notion that every grammatical rule can be broken, as long as it's clear the author knows she's breaking a rule, is doing it for impact, and doesn't do it too often.

So when I revise, I do look for:

1. sentence clarity, concrete vs. vague wording/images

2. overuse of words and phrases as well as general wordiness, which I admit I have a tendency toward.

3. logic of story flow and believability of plot points, so that the story doesn't feel contrived.

4. inconsistencies (hey, weren't his blue eyes originally brown?)

5. Goals, motivations, conflict – clear and believable, derived from each character's inner struggles and aspirations

6. emotions – intensity, believability, and remains true to each respective character

7. romance – are the hero and heroine wonderful together, even when they're not getting along?

8. sexual content – again, believable? physically possible (lol)? not too flowery or overdone? done enough? not too soon but soon enough?

9. heroism – is the hero of heart-melting quality? does the heroine make us cheer for her? are they sympathetic characters?

10. resolution – is there that satisfying, "sigh" moment at the end?

I finished revising Recklessly Yours last Monday, but did I immediately send it off to my editor? No! If you read my lasagna recipe (see below), I said one of the most important ingredients is time, to allow the sauce and cheeses to age properly. The same proves true of manuscripts. Whenever possible, I always try to put some time between me and the finished work. Inevitably, I'll remember something I left out or need to change or whatever. I've got a small list already…

Tagged: Her Majesty's Secret Servants, Recklessly Yours, revisions

Revisions and Second Chances

Happy New Year! How is yours so far? A new year is a time for second chances, for making changes in our lives, and for being, maybe, an improved version of ourselves. 

I've had a good start so far, getting the tree down and decorations put away on New Years Day, gathering up several bags worth of stuff and bringing them to the Good Will, and…hurray!…at long last I finished the first draft of RECKLESS YOURS, book three in my Her Majesty's Secret Servant's seres. I often call myself a first draft writer, in that my first drafts tend to be very whole and readable. But one thing I would never do is turn in a manuscript without going over it again from start to finish with a very critical eyes. There's always room for improvment, and always those pesky mistakes you never noticed the first time around.

Take today, for instance. I found a glaring error in the opening pages of Recklessly Yours that no one caught previously – not me, not my editor, not my critique group, and the mistake actually appears in the teaser at the back of OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS.

Actually, it's not so glaring, or it would have been noticed before now. But I can't help chuckling. The mistake is in a date I quoted in the narrative, or rather a year, which could only be possible if Simon de Burgh's generator, in Outrageously Yours, is capable of time travel. It's too late for the teaser in Outrageously Yours, I'm just glad for a second chance to get it right for the actual book!

So just for fun, I'm offering a free book of the winner's choice to the first person who finds the mistake and mentions it on my Facebook page. So read the excerpt and see how detail oriented you are – and I'm sometimes not! I've shortened it up a bit. Holly Sutherland has been traveling through the night, and has just arrived in Windsor, at the royal mews, for reasons still unbeknown to her. All she knows is that the queen has a special task for her to perform…

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Windsor, England

Spring 1839

Holly was surprised to step into a cozy room furnished with a faded but comfortable- looking settee, a small oaken table and chairs, and a brazier set beside an unassuming brick fireplace.  The effect was one of a slightly shabby retreat, the furniture perhaps having been deemed too worn to remain any longer in a drawing room but good enough to host a party of aristocratic riders.  Then again, such a room in Holly's childhood home of Thorn Grove, the modest country estate owned by her now-deceased uncle Edward, would have been considered perfectly adequate as an everyday ladies' parlor.

"Her majesty's private viewing salon, miss," Roger explained.  He pointed to a curtained window across the way.  "If you look out, you'll see the enclosure where the royal horses are put through their paces."

She moved to the window and glanced out the wavy panes at a paddock enclosed by high walls that sagged here and appeared to be crumbling there.  A thick layer of sawdust had been strewn on the ground in a futile attempt to soak up the mud from the recent rains.  Having recovered sufficiently from her bemusement, she experienced the beginnings of indignation on Victoria's behalf.  Her queen – her friend – deserved better than this.  She turned back into the room.  "Forgive me for saying so, but these stables are in deplorable condition.  Not at all befitting a queen."

"Indeed not, miss." Roger struck a lucifer and lit an oil lamp.  "There are to be new stables built later in the year."

"Oh.  Well, thank goodness for that."

"Do make yourself comfortable, if you please, miss."

A cheery fire, laid earlier by some unknown hand, flickered from the grate in the hearth.  Roger set about lighting the brazier while Holly settled on the settee and glanced about the room with a mounting curiosity she knew better than to voice.  As in the coach, she set her book firmly on her lap, the gold embossed lettering staring up at her to announce the title: A Chronicle of the Royal Ascot, from 1711 to 1847.

Puzzling.  But even more puzzling had been the secret message tucked inside.  Both the tome and the note had only hours ago been delivered by Roger himself to the Knightsbridge Readers' Emporium, the London book shop owned jointly by Holly and her sisters.  She'd barely had time to comprehend the note's meaning – that, like her sisters Laurel and Ivy before her, she was being called to the service of her country – before she found had herself whisked without further explanation out of the city and across the moonlit countryside.

Within moments, Roger handed her a steaming mug of tea.  He then opened a cupboard, and returned to place a covered platter on the sofa table in front of her. 

"Scones, miss, fresh from the castle ovens.  You shouldn't have long to wait now."  With that, he bowed his way out of the room.

Wait for what? she yearned to call after him.  But such a question would yield her little.  Fellows such as Roger were trained to follow directions and follow them well, neither asking nor answering questions that were none of their concern.  A smidgeon of perplexity forced a sigh to her lips, quickly followed by a yawn. 

And no wonder; she had traveled through the night. 

Holding her veil aside, she drank some tea and continued a half-hearted perusal of the room.  She strained her ears, hearing only the hiss of the hearth fire punctuated by the muffled, far-off drone of the grooms and stable hands.  She nibbled an almond-flecked scone and tapped her fingers on the cover of the book.  Then, in a surge of impatience, she flipped open the cover to reread the urgent summons that had brought her so summarily to Windsor:

Dearest Holly,

I need you – and only you.  You must come to me at Windsor at once!  Tell no one, except your sisters, of course.  But please, make no delay!"

                                                                                             Yours,

                                                                                             V

At the approaching clatter of footsteps, she flinched and snapped the book shut.  In the same instant, the undoubtedly feminine stride struck her as entirely familiar.  She set the book aside and came to her feet as a petite figure swathed in a forest green riding habit swept through the doorway.

"My dearest Holly, you are here!  At long last you have arrived!"

Tagged: Contest, excerpt, Happy New Year, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS, Recklessly Yours

The Best Christmas Lasagna Ever!

I'm making a claim here: my mother, and now I, make the best lasagna ever. Ever. I'm sorry, but it's true. And it's not that we hand pick the tomatoes and peel and crush them ourselves. We don't. We admittedly use cans of crushed tomatoes, paste and puree. We take a couple of short cuts, sure, but it's what we add that makes all the difference. So…

Sauce: In a large pot, combine two large cans of peeled crushed tomatoes, a large can or two of puree, a can of paste. Then add some water to each can so you get what's left of the tomato, and pour it in (it cooks down, so don't worry about thin sauce). My mother always swore by Hunts brand, and it's all I use. You can also thow in a can of their plain sauce (another short cut, but it's OK!). To this add salt, pepper, garlic power, and oregano and/or basil to taste. Mom says, "just sprinkle so it covers most of the top." Once the sauce is hot, grate in fresh parmesian cheese – again, cover most of the top, but not too thickly. Or hey, thickly.

Now the meat: We use chopped sirloin or ground round. about 2 to 2 1/2 pounds. In a bowl, combine the meat, 2 eggs (can use egg whites if you prefer, but don't skip the eggs!), flavored Italian bread crumbs (we use Progresso) and more parmesian – c'mon, go for it! Saute in a little olive oil until browned, then add to the sauce and let it all simmer for at least an hour (but careful not to burn!). 

The Lasagna: 2 lb. container of ricotta cheese, mixed with an egg (important! don't skip this!), salt and pepper. I use pre-shredded mozerella and the Barilla lasagna noodles that don't have to be precooked (thank you, God!).

Cover bottom of pan with sauce. Place a layer of noodles, then a layer of ricotta and mozzarella, until noodles are covered. Cover that with sauce/meat mixture again, and repeat layers until pan is full. Cover again with sauce and sprinkle the top with parmesian.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Let cool, cover and…now this is the most important ingredient – add TIME! Pop your lasagna into the fridge for one to two days before serving. To reheat the day of, cover with tin foil and cook at 350 for 15-20 minutes, maybe a little longer. We have an old Italian method of seeing if it's heated through: we stick a finger into it, and if we burn ourselves the lasagna is ready!

Save some sauce to serve with, and – this is important, too – wear loose clothing!

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Tagged: Christmas, Lasagna, recipes

Chance Encounters of the Best Kind…

Today my husband and I went for our Sunday morning bike ride at a new location – Volunteer Park in Plantation Acres, a sprawling recreational park that includes an equestrian center, tennis courts, playground, and a beautiful wetland area with trails and bridges.

Our pictures don't do them justice at all, but Florida wetlands are a complex environment in and of themselves, often choked with sawgrass and lily pads, and host a vast array of species including some of the most beautiful and interesting birds you'll ever see. We spotted what appeared to be a more than 3-foot heron. unfortunately we didn't get his picture, but he looked a lot like this guy.       

We rode around the surrounding neighborhood, too, and after about 8 miles called it quits and drove over to Borders to see if they had any copies of OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS. They did!

But, oh dear, when one is out on a bike ride one doesn't necessarily expect to have one's picture taken. No make-up! Oh well. What happened next made my day.  A browsing reader saw us snapping pictures, and my "publicist" husband immediately showed her my promo shot on the back page and said, "My wife is the author."  To make a long story short, the customer checked out my book, bought a copy, and I signed it for her!  Maybe I should hang out at bookstores more often.

All in all, a very good morning.  How's your weekend been? Pick up any new books?

By the way, you can find me blogging at RomCon tomorrow (Monday), and I'll be giving away another copy of OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS.  Hope to see you there!

Tagged: bike ride, book store, Borders, readers

Release Day!

Dec. 7th – Pearl Harbor Day and the release day for OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS!! Admittedly, my news is somewhat less momentus, lol.

But I'm having fun! Today I'm guest blogging/interviewed at Moonlight & Margaritas AND Get Lost In A Story, and giving away a book on each, so I hope you check those out.

Random.org has spoken again, and the winner of the book I promised to give away today, drawing from all the comments here on my excerpts over the weekend, is Mary Ricksen!! The wonderful author of Tripping Through Time, by the way. 

But there are still lots of ways to win books & stuff. You can enter my contest on my website; comment on the above two sites where I'm blogging today, this Thursday at  Victoria Gray Romance, and next Monday at RomCon Historical Blog. And check out the contest running all during December at Nal Authors!

Granted, the Secret Servants books are set in the early Victorian peroid, but just for fun, here I am channeling my inner Jane Austen (also pictured on the Moonlight & Margaritas blog today…

 

Anyone else out there like to dress up as their favorite people/characters?

Tagged: CONTEST WINNER, Her Majesty's Secret Servants, Jane Austen, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS

Excerpt: Sparks Fly!

OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS comes out tomorrow! My contest is up on my website, so be sure to head over there and enter for a chance to win a signed copy of book one: Most Eagerly Yours, and this fabulous Victorian-themed necklace, made specially for Her Majesty's Secret Servants by a very talented friend of mine.

I'm also running a contest on the NAL Authors site, so check out that one, too.  I'll be guest blogging this week and next, so check the appearances page here to see where you can comment for a chance to win a copy of Outrageously Yours.

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Now for today's excerpt: continued from yesterday, Ivy and Simon are in the laboratory, about to turn on Simon's secret generator. Sparks will fly! Read on to see what happens!  Then comment for a chance to win a copy.

A trill of elation banished Ivy's regrets.  "What do I do?"

A release valve at the top of the vat whistled.  Jets of steam shot out.  From a cabinet against the wall Lord Harrow dug out two bulky pairs of woolen gloves.  "Put these on.  They'll protect you from both steam burns and electric shock."

Ivy remembered the pair he had worn to protect his hands during his challenge.  The ones she tugged on now reached to her elbows, while a stiff lining restricted the movement of her wrists and fingers.  Lord Harrow brought her to where the ductwork met the generator's four upright coils.

"Stand right here, Ned, and hold the lever.  At my command, you'll give a single, forceful flip, opening the valve and releasing the charge into the coils."

"I am responsible for ignition?"

"You are."  He couldn't seem to stop grinning now.  Moving to the room's curving wall, he gripped a crank that operated a pulley and cables that stretched to the ceiling.  Slowly the skylight opened wide to offer a gaping view of the bright morning sky.

"Allowing too great a buildup of energy in the room could possibly result in an explosion," he explained with a wry pull to his lips that led Ivy to conclude he spoke from experience.

A twinge of apprehension tightened her belly.  The Mad Marquess….

"Now then."  He strode to the furnace and climbed onto a stepladder.  At the top of the vat was a spoked wheel like that of a ship's helm.  As if navigating treacherous waters, he gripped the wheel in both hands.  His shoulders bunched and the muscles of his back strained his linen shirt.  He cast a glance at her from over his shoulder, his brow pulled in concentration.  "In a moment I'll open the preliminary valve and send the steam through.  Be ready, Ned."

She almost said "Aye, aye, sir."  Instead she flexed her fingers inside the rigid glove and tightened her hold on the lever.

"Ned!"

His shout seized her attention.  The vat emitted a piercing screech.  Spurts of steam erupted into the high, domed ceiling and snaked out through the open skylight.  Goosebumps rippled down Ivy's back.

"I nearly forgot.  Once you flip the lever, move back several paces.  Since we are not powering a mechanical device, the current will not be directed into a controlled outlet.  The result is that the charge will simply flow into the room, the excess wafting out through the skylight.  You'll feel a strange tingling, but don't be alarmed.  It's quite safe."

"Oh," she said somewhat weakly as she briefly questioned the validity of his claim.  Excitement won out and she said more firmly, "Yes, sir."

"On my command then."  His forearms thick and corded, his biceps bulging beneath his pushed up sleeves, he heaved on the wheel, once, twice, again.  It gave an inch or so.  He tightened his grip, and another determined yank brought it half around.  A gushing sound echoed inside the copper duct.  A frenzied buzz raced closer and closer to Ivy.  Beneath her hand, the lever vibrated furiously.

"Now, Ned!"

Her teeth clamped on her lower lip, she flipped the lever.  The moment her hand came away, an invisible force propelled her backward.  She stumbled, landed on her bottom, and slid several inches.

A column of steam burst from the duct and into the generator's four coils, creating tiny bolts of lightning that crackled as they spiraled around each coil and zigzagged between them.  The gears began to turn, the pistons to pump.  The voltage ran along the center beam until it began a steady rocking motion that forced the wheel to turn and the bellows to expand and compress. 

Pulsating energy fanned out in all directions.  A few sparks flew, like shooting stars.  Lord Harrow's box of gadgets slid off the table and spilled its contents across the floor.  The galvanometer needles spun.  Cupboards rattled, and the doors of the locked wardrobe shuddered as if about to burst open.

Ivy's skin became charged with sensation while the hair at her nape prickled and rose.  At the furnace, Lord Harrow tugged again at the wheel.  Ivy bit her tongue to keep from calling out to him in fear, to beg him to cut off the power. 

Could he?  He'd told her that once his generator started, it continued even without the steam-generated charge.  The room began to spin in Ivy's vision.  A numbing tingle spread through her limbs.  Overwhelming and frightening, the current now controlled the rhythm of her breathing and even the beat of her heart, speeding it to match the rocking of the beam and each whir of the wheel.

She shut her eyes.  An instant later snapping sparks on both upper arms forced her eyes back open.  Having removed his gloves, Lord Harrow closed his hands around her and gently raised her to her feet.  With an arm slung around her shoulders he pressed her to his side.  The contact produced a grounding effect, and the awful tingling subsided until only the bottoms of her feet and scalp itched.

She glanced up at the man beside her.  His head was thrown back, exposing his corded neck, the strong lines of his jaw and nose.  His chest swelled as he drew air deep into his lungs.

His obvious lack of alarm banished Ivy's remaining fears.  The air crackled and buzzed like a swarm of bees, surrounding them within the electrical charge they had created.  Together they stood as one – one mind, one passion – bound like two separate elements into a single entity by the pulsing electricity and by their shared pursuit.

Thus when Lord Harrow raised his voice to ask if she had had enough, Ivy shook her head and yelled back, "Never!"

 Yet his arm snaked away, leaving her disconnected and solitary, once more vulnerable to the current's effects.  Lord Harrow strode to one of the tables, where he had stacked the folded squares of black canvas.  With a flick he unfolded the first, brought it to the motor and tossed it over the coils.  The energy in the room palpably lessened, releasing its grip on Ivy.  The sparks ceased; the motor decelerated and came to a standstill. 

Still hovering where Lord Harrow had left her, Ivy struggled to catch her breath, to blink away the haze that continued to cloud her vision.  Holding a fist to her bosom, she ventured a step, then another, surprised when her trembling legs didn't fail her.  She pulled the gloves from her hands.

Gradually her heartbeat slowed, but the force of Lord Harrow's gaze had her tingling all over again.  "Are you all right, Ned?" He hurried back to her.  "You have a peculiar look about you.  Were you hurt?"

When she didn't immediately answer he grasped her chin in his hand and raised her face.  Their gazes met and sparked, then simmered with an emotion so unsettling Ivy turned her face away rather than yield to the temptation to press her lips to his. 

"Ned?"

"I'm fine, sir.  I think."  She gave her head a shake – as much to clear it from the effects of the electricity as from the beguiling energy of Lord Harrow's touch.  She ran both hands through her hair, still standing slightly on end.  "I've never felt anything like that."

Tagged: Her Majesty's Secret Servants, Necklace, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS, sparks!

Excerpt: The Scientist's Apprentice

Random.org chose infinitieh as the winner of yesterday's book, so contact me at allison@allisonchase.com with a mailing address and I'll send your book right out. You have till the end of this week or Random.org must choose another!

And hey, I'm going to combine all the comments I've already gotten, starting with Friday's excerpt, with new comments today and tomorrow and give away another book. I'll choose the winner Tuesday, when OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS comes out.

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Today's excerpt brings us into Simon's laboratory. This isn't Ivy's first time there, but it's the first time she'll have a chance to get her hands on Simon's secret apparatus. She's breathless with excitement - how many women are afforded such opportunities? And she's  burning with curiosity about Simon's…um…equipment…

*

"I've a surprise for you today, Ned."

She didn't say that each day with him brought surprises, both joyful and disconcerting.  Instead she watched him cross the room and shovel coal into the furnace, her ungovernable fascination drawn to the wide stance of his brawny legs, the knotting of the muscles in his forearms, the hard arc of a rear that made her wonder, scandalously, if it would be as hard to the touch as it appeared.

As she pondered this possibility, Lord Harrow abruptly turned and caught her staring.  With a start she flicked her gaze upward to a more appropriate vicinity of his person, but too late.  His pale eyes flashed with surprise and then darkened with acknowledgment, and all Ivy could do was look away while her cheeks burned and her vision swam in a haze of embarrassment.

Lord Harrow cleared his throat, and Ivy died a small death inside.  Had she revealed the truth in that careless moment?  Surely he would realize that only a woman, an inexperienced, spinsterish woman at that, would gaze upon him so brazenly and with such longing.  Unless he thought her one of those young men with irregular predilections.  Surely that would be worse.  Surely Lord Harrow would never stand for such a thing.

After an interminable pause he said, "Well, Ned, aren't you going to ask me?"

Ivy's breath trembled.  "Ask you what, sir?"

"About the surprise.  Aren't you burning to know?"

Oh, yes, burning…in his presence, she always felt flushed, inwardly ablaze.  His smile grew when she didn't answer.  He raised the shovel, then half turned to bring the contraption behind him to her attention.

Her eyes gone wide, Ivy sprang forward.  "The generator?"

"We're going to turn it on.  If you think you're ready, that is."

"I'm ready."  Her voice surged an octave.  "I'm quite ready, sir."

"Good.  Bring me the lucifers from my desk.  The long ones."

Ivy brought the friction matches to him.  Within a few minutes the coals glowed brightly inside the grate.  "It's going to take a little while for the water to heat.  Damn, but I wish steam weren't necessary.  I've tried electromagnetic and electrochemical induction, but thus far they haven't generated a strong enough charge to activate a motor of this scale.  That is what I am hoping you and I together will devise."

"You seem to have a classic paradox."  Ivy loved an intricate puzzle, and the challenge Lord Harrow described sent an electrical-like charge through her.  "You've developed a device that can potentially replace non-electric sources of power, but which is nonetheless dependent on those sources.  What you need is something entirely new, something as yet undiscovered."

"Exactly, Ned."  His features took on an animation that matched her own excitement as he crossed the room to her.  "That has been the focus of my experimentation."

"It isn't so much what you wish to power, as how."  Ivy's pulse took off at a near canter.  "That is why your challenge centered on the process of electrolysis.  That's the meaning of your question, the answer to your elusive why.  You've been separating compounds in the hopes of discovering a powerful new element." 

Her gaze fused with his, and their combined zeal all but sent sparks shooting in the air between them.  "You are hoping," she whispered, "to recombine elements in a manner that improves upon nature.  You are dabbling in a whole new kind of physics."

"More than dabbling."  A slight tremor shook his voice.  "And more often than not practically blowing myself up in the process."

Her hand flew to her lips, but she quickly dropped it upon remembering that men don't use such gestures.  "Hence your caution in allowing me to operate the equipment."

He drew closer, his next words a caress against her ear.  "Can't be blowing up my assistant along with me, now can I?"

He raised a hand, and for one exhilarating, startling moment, the warmth of his expression led her to believe he was going to reach for her, take her in his arms.  How eagerly she would have gone, her passion for science and her growing passion for him impossibly entwined.

The moment throbbed with anticipation and uncertainty and nervous fear, and ended all too soon.  Lord Harrow merely gripped her shoulder and gave her the shake that had become so familiar, so endearing, and so dreadfully insufficient.  No man had ever tempted her like this before, because with every other man came the unhappy prospect of setting her interests and aspirations aside. 

Ivy had never wished for a husband, but daily now she found herself wishing for Lord Harrow.  Wishing for more than these affectionate gestures of his…wanting everything she could never have.

Across the room, the vat began to hiss.  Lord Harrow grinned and his eyes lit up.  "We're ready to begin.  Sir, let us start our engine."

*

Tomorrow we'll find out what happens next. Are you a science buff, or do all things techical send you running? Leave a quick comment to be entered in Tuesday's drawing.

Tagged: Electromagnetism, Her Majesty's Secret Servants, Ivy Sutherland, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS, Victorian Physics, Victorian Science