Allison Chase's Blog, page 5

Excerpt: When Ivy Met Simon

Answer the question at the end for a chance to win a copy of Outrageously Yours!

Today's excerpt…

Set-up: Ivy Sutherland is at Cambridge University to investigate Simon de Burgh and find out if he has the queen's stolen stone. She entered a competition to become his new assistant, but she's pretty sure she botched her chances. Yesterday she learned some unsettling things about the marquess. Today he comes storming into her life…

(by the way, after wearing dresses all her life, Ivy finds men's clothing less liberating than she'd imagined. Trousers trick her mind into thinking her legs are tangled in her skirts – see what happens)

From Outrageously Yours… 

A pounding at the door made them all jump. With a quizzical look, Lowbry went to answer it.

"Lord Harrow!" he exclaimed, then quickly recovered his composure and stood aside. "Welcome, sir. To what do we owe the—"

"Sorry to barge in on you like this." In a bound, the marquess crossed the threshold. Ivy's pulse thudded at the sight of him, speeding to a frantic pace when he scanned their stunned faces and demanded, "Which one of you is Ivers?"

*

For several resounding ticks of the mantel clock no one moved, no one spoke, no one dared to breathe. Then, one by one, the gazes of the others settled on Ivy as though she had just been accused of some shocking crime.

Ivy glared an appeal to each of them. Hadn't they taken her under their wing, made her part of their tight little group? Hadn't she accepted their ribald jesting and vile-tasting spirits with good grace?

Yet with hardly a blink they'd abandoned her, or so it seemed to Ivy, who now felt as awkwardly conspicuous as a peacock in a snow drift.

Her mind raced with questions. Could she possibly have won the challenge? There had been that brief, glorious moment when she had believed she had answered Lord Harrow's questions with singular brilliance. But no sooner had she handed her papers to Mr. Hendslew than she had realized how parochial and downright idiotic she must have sounded in comparing science to poetry. She had approached the challenge not like a scholarly gentleman, nor even like a woman, but like a silly, sentimental girl. Her skin ran hot with shame at the memory of the drivel she had composed.

And yet…Lord Harrow was here, and he was staring at her.

"Are you Ivers?" His cape flaring out behind him, he bore down on her, prompting her to back away until her heels struck the wall beneath the window. She might have tumbled out had Lord Harrow's hand not shot out and snared her wrist. "Careful, lad. Now that I've found you, I can't have you plummeting to your death. You are Ivers, are you not?"

Her head trembled as she nodded.

"Good." Lord Harrow released her, stepped back, and gave her a terse looking over. "You're the hand-raiser," he accused.

Ivy nodded several times, short, jerky motions that made the Mad Marquess dance in her vision.

His lips drew tight, and Ivy felt sure he had come to disqualify her from the challenge. A frantic apology ran through her mind, but then he gave a nod of his own. "Come with me."

With that, he turned and strode from the room, tossing out a brisk, "Gentlemen," as he went. After an instant's hesitation, Ivy took off after him.

*

St. John's Chapel

Simon made his way back out to St. John's Second Court. The chapel bells rang out the noon hour, a familiar, comforting sound. He had been a St. John's man himself, although his rooms had been in the residence halls of the First Court.

 

The boy's rapid footfalls echoed from inside the stairwell. A moment later the lad stumbled outside – literally.  As if his feet had tangled in an invisible web, young Ivers barreled through the doorway and sprawled headlong, breaking his fall with his hands and narrowly saving his chin from the ravages of the paving stones.

Then he simply lay there, stunned and out of breath. A torrent of laughter spilled from above. When Simon shot a glance upward, a circle of flushed faces in the window scattered out of sight.

He walked to the youth and leaned over him. "I say, Ivers, you seem remarkably intent on killing yourself today.  Any particular reason why?"

"No, sir," came a slightly muffled reply. Ivers sniffed and slowly levered himself off the ground. Once he had achieved a sitting position Simon offered him a hand up. "Oh, er…thank you, sir."

The contact of the youth's slender fingers against his own sent a peculiar sensation through Simon, not entirely unpleasant but nonetheless disconcerting. He pulled his hand away. "Are you injured?"

Ivers brushed dirt and small bits of leaves from his coat. The fine-boned face turned upward, and in the bright daylight Simon saw that his eyes were not as black as he'd previously thought, but the shape and color of almonds. That he should notice the boy's eyes at all was disquieting, all the more so when he glimpsed the sheen of a tear.

The youth averted his face. "No, sir. I'm not injured."

Some unnamed instinct sent Simon a foot or two away, a distance that oddly felt more comfortable. "Tell me, are you typically this clumsy?"

"Sir?" Flustered or perhaps insulted, the youth hitched his small nose defiantly into the air.

"It is a necessary question, Ivers. Surely you can grasp the dangers of having an accident-prone assistant in a laboratory filled with electromagnetic equipment."

"Oh…quite right, sir. And no, sir…not typically. It's…" He glanced down his length, perplexity blossoming across his milky smooth brow. "It's the boots, sir. They're new, not yet broken in."

Simon's gaze followed Ivers's tapering trousers to where the stirrups circled the soles of a pair of black and tan half-Wellingtons with squared-off toes – the very height of fashion. "Only the best, eh, Ned?"

"Sir?"

"Never mind. How soon can you have your things packed?"

"Sir?"

Simon studied those dark eyes and again saw, behind the lad's confusion, the simmering energy that had caught his attention that morning. Puzzlement gripped him, a sense that the spirit embodied by that spark simply didn't fit the outer image of the ungainly Mr. Ivers, as if he'd been encased in a foreign, utterly mismatched shell.

"You know, Ivers," he said, "for someone who is able to pour his heart out through his pen, you have surprisingly scant verbal skills. This could prove problematic."

Alarm filled the boy's eyes. "I promise it won't, sir. I can be as verbose as you please when the occasion warrants it. It's merely that…"

"The boots?" Simon joked. "Cutting off the oxygen to your brain?"

Ivers's oddly elegant eyebrows knotted and white lines of tension formed on either side of his nose. Then…his generous lips twitched and broke into a grin. "Indeed, sir, that must be it, surely. I must find a way to loosen them posthaste."

Simon joined in the youth's chuckles, until something about their shared mirth felt too familiar, too…intimate. He stepped another stride backward to lengthen the distance between them. What was it about this fellow that left him so flustered, and would it be a hindrance to their working together?

The thought of screening more applicants overcame his doubts. The lad was awkward and shy, but that would change once they established a rapport. Simon would make this work; either that or he must reconcile himself to working alone.

Simon regarded the boy, waiting respectfully if nervously silent. "Mr. Ivers seems too formidable for such a wisp of a youth. What do they call you at home?"

The lad considered a moment before he smiled and lifted his chin. "Actually, sir, my sisters call me Ivy."

"Ivy?" The sound of it made Simon feel like smiling, too, but he didn't. No, like the fellow's laughter, the nickname produced a too cozy, too damnably intimate sensation inside him. "That won't do either. What did you say your Christian name was?"

"Edwin, sir."

"A bit formal, that. I shall call you Ned. You may call me Lord Harrow."

"Yes, sir. Then… I have won the…the challenge, sir?"

Simon blinked and dropped his gaze in concern. "Those boots really are too tight, aren't they? What the blazes do you think we're doing here? Of course you won the challenge."

"Thank you, sir…oh, thank you!"

"Mind you, we shall proceed on a strictly trial basis. Upon the first indication that you might prove unsuited to the position—"

"There shan't be, Lord Harrow. I promise. I swear, oh—"

"That will be sufficient, Ned." Simon scanned the rows of Gothic, stone-cased windows of the building before them. "Are you presently living here?"

"I am, sir."

"How soon can you have your things packed and ready to be moved?"

Ned's eyes narrowed within their uncommonly thick lashes. "Moved…to where, sir?"

"Harrowood, of course."

"But…"

"You can't very well assist me from here, can you?"

"But I thought…" Ned's hands snapped to his hips. "I assumed the laboratory in question would be located on the university grounds."

Simon emitted a laugh. "My dear boy, I am not employed by the university. I have one laboratory, and it is located at Harrowood."

"And it is necessary for me to…move in?"

"Sorry, but yes. My research is of a sensitive nature and I won't risk word of it leaking out prematurely. Does this pose some sort of predicament for you?"

Ned emitted a high, squeaky little note, but he shook his head. "No predicament, sir."

"You needn't worry, lad. This has been cleared with the Dean of Natural Philosophies. You'll receive full credit for the semester. Extra, no doubt."

"Then I'll…er…just go and pack my belongings."

"Good. I'll send my carriage round first thing tomorrow to collect you. Oh, and one other thing." Simon extended his forefinger, circling it in a gesture meant to encompass Ned's chin and upper lip. "Attempting to grow a bit of whiskers, are we?"

Ned's expression turned pained. "Yes, sir."

"You might wish to consider shaving instead."

The boy nodded glumly. "Thank you, sir."

******************************************

Have you ever had to fake your way through a situation, say a job interview or some other circumstance where you had to win someone's trust fast? Were you successful?

Tagged: Cambridge University, giveaway, Her Majesty's Secret Servants, Ivy Sutherland, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS, Victorian Science

Ivy In A Man's World…

OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS comes out this Tuesday (in print and all e-formats!) and I thought it would be fun to post some excerpts.

Below, Ivy Sutherland - disguised as young science student Ned Ivers – has just taken part in a competition, at Cambridge University, to become Simon de Burgh's new assistant, and now she's back at the dormatory relaxing with f her new "mates."  Ivy finds it's not easy being a man – especially when her mission for the queen involves getting up-close and personal with the enigmatic man the students have dubbed, The Mad Marquess of Harrow…

Ivy is here, at St. John's College, Cambridge University

***************

"Ol' Ivers here drinks like my grandmamma.  Down that claret, old boy, and then try a real man's drink."

A slap between her shoulder blades nearly sent the glass flying from Ivy's hand and the wine she had just sipped spurting from her mouth.  Somehow she managed to prevent both small disasters, but upon swallowing she received another whack from her neighbor that threw her into a fit of coughing.

The backslapping continued in earnest, a joint effort now from the two young men sitting on either side of her at the small dining table.  Their laughter filled her ears.  Cheroot smoke curled before her face and made her eyes water until the grinning faces across the table blurred.  Despite the cool autumn breeze flowing through the open windows, Ivy sweltered beneath her woolen coat.  Her stomach began to roil.

"Ah, leave the poor bloke alone," someone yelled but to little effect, except to bring on louder peals of laughter.

Setting down her wine, Ivy thrust out her arms and shoved her well-meaning neighbors away.  Still coughing, she pushed to her feet and stumbled to the nearest window.  She found the frame and gripped it, and leaned out over the sill to suck in drafts of refreshing air.  Dazzling sunlight lit the courtyard two stories below.  A pedestrian turned his face up to hers, saluted, and kept walking.

With her throat already strained from her efforts to speak in a lower voice, the smoke and liquor only made matters worse.  Gradually, the coughing subsided.  The laughter behind her did not.  Turning, she perched on the wide stone sill, caught her breath, straightened her coat and attempted to regain her dignity.

"Here, sip this."  The host of the party, Jasper Lowbry, a handsome young man with intelligent eyes and a ready smile, pressed a snifter into her hand. 

Bitter fumes spiraled upward to burn her nose.  She would have much preferred water, but something told her such an option would never have crossed the minds of these raucous students. 

"Go on," Jasper urged.  "It'll help.  And don't mind them.  Making you the butt of their jokes merely means they like you."

Ivy nodded her gratitude and took the tiniest sip.  Jasper returned to his half dozen other guests, who continued to gulp down spirits and shovel an assortment of hors d'oeuvres into their mouths.  Their boorish table manners made Ivy cringe.  Their uproarious conversation increased in volume while steadily decreasing in coherence, but thank goodness for that.  A good portion of their language tended to scorch her ears.

Just as with the Marquess of Harrow, these Cambridge men had met none of her expectations.  She had supposed university students to be well-mannered and scholarly, making use of every spare moment to study, contemplate, and debate.  Ha!  But for their costly attire, their apparent heedlessness when it came to their coin, and the opulence of Jasper Lowbry's rooms, which put Ivy's modest London townhouse to shame, they might have been brigands at any dockside tavern.

Still and all, these particular brigands, all fellow residents of St. John's College, had eagerly opened their doors to young "Ned Ivers," along with their liquor bottles, humidors, and snuff boxes.  Ivy was finding that being a man taxed the body in ways she had never before considered.  Blinking, she attempted to clear her throat but only ended up coughing again.

"I can tell you what's wrong with him," slurred Preston Ascot, the pock-faced son of a Foreign Office diplomat.  Mr. Ascot had bulldog features and the heavyset bulk to match, offset by an affable sense of humor.  With a slovenly grin he thrust an unsteady finger in Ivy's direction.  "Poor sot's been poisoned.  The Mad Marquess no doubt slipped him something lethal."

A gangly, bespectacled chap named Spencer Yates drew on his cheroot until the burning end crackled softly.  In a billow of smoke he called out, "Wouldn't be the first time, from what I hear."

Another among the group murmured, "You're speaking of his wife, aren't you?"

"No, no," Jasper Lowbry interceded with a roll of his hazel eyes.  "Pure rubbish, that.  Harrow didn't do her in.  But…"  Still standing by the head of the table, he leaned in closer.  The others went quiet and craned their necks to hear what he would say.  Curious herself, Ivy hopped off the windowsill and rejoined the group.

"They say he's keeping her body somewhere in that manor of his."

The diplomat's son frowned at Lowbry's words.  "What the devil do you mean, keeping her?  Keeping her how?"

"Not sure, quite.  Preserved somehow."

Revulsion rippled across Ivey's back and raised the shorn hairs on her nape.  The others around her reacted with similar repugnance, swearing, quaffing mouthfuls of brandy or whiskey, and shaking their heads in disbelief.

"You needn't take my word for it," said Lowbry with a casual shrug.  "It's common knowledge among the upperclassmen."  Hunching, he propped his hands on the table and leaned low.  "Generations of de Burghs are buried in Holy Trinity churchyard, but you won't find her there."

"Oh, but that's ridiculous," Ivy blurted.  "She must have been buried with her own family then."

Lowbry shook his head.  "The Quincys are all buried at Holy Trinity as well.  Her father is a don of physics here."

"What on earth would the marquess want with his wife's remains?"  Ivy shuddered.

Lowbry cast a grave, and in Ivy's opinion, dramatic glance around the table.  "They say he hopes one day to…resurrect her.  Like in that book.  You all know the one I mean."

"You know, it's not that far fetched." Spencer Yates blew several smoke rings in succession.  "Luigi Galvani's experiments on the nervous systems of frogs proved that movement is achieved by the confluence of electrical charges between the nerves and the muscles."

"Meaning what?" Ivy demanded.  "Surely you're not suggesting that the stuff of fiction can be intertwined with legitimate scientific—"

"Meaning," the youth interrupted with an exaggerated pull of his mouth, "the heart is a muscle, and the Mad Marquess could very well be pumping electricity into his wife's heart in an attempt to make it beat again."

A chill slithered up Ivy's spine.

Mr. Ascot broke the heavy fall of silence. "Bloody hell."

************************

And the story continues tomorrow with: When Ivy Met Simon…

My Holiday Favorites

Now that Thanksgiving has been duly celebrated…

Let The Holidays Begin!

Every year, there are just certain things that must be in my life to put me in the mood and make Christmas special. Here are my holiday favorites:

Favorite Movie: The Bishop's Wife, starring Cary Grant and Loretta Young. Cary Grant always makes me melt, but never more so than as Dudley the Angel. I can't wait to see it this year. I'll probably have to order it on Netflix.

Favorite Song: Oh Holy Night. There are so many beautiful versions of this song. One of my special favorites is by Josh Groban. I also have a special fondness for the song because when my dad was an altar boy in the 30s, he and his best friend would goof around and crash themselves to their knees super hard whenever they heard the refrain, "Fall…on your knees…and hear the angel voices…" I love this image of my dad as a boy, and I can just picture them doing that.

Favorite TV Special: A Charlie Brown Christmas. I'm sorry, but I've never heard the meaning of Christmas told with more eloquence than when Linus tells Charlie Brown, "And that's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown." Runner up – The Grinch!

Favorite Meal: Lasagna. It's so Christmassy, especially since I serve it with a salad – red and green! It's also the ultimate comfort food, and since I prepare it days in advance, it means popping it in the oven Christmas day and voila, no work! But it's runner up is the salmon my husband grills on Christmas Eve, rubbed with Dijon – oh, yum!

Favorite present to receive on Christmas day: Chocolate! Pretty much every year I get something special, usually from Kilwins. Devastatingly good!

 Favorite event: My Critique Holiday Lunch – we meet every year at a restaurant to exchange little gifts, and these are always among my favorite to receive, just thoughtful, fun, usually girly items that make me smile!

Christmas Eve is another favorite of mine, even more so than Christmas day. There's just something warm and cozy and easy about Christmas Eve. It's not about presents yet, it's about family and friends and playing scrabble and talking and laughing and drinking warm wassail and simply relaxing and feeling at peace even if only for a few hours.

The Tree: must be, must be real! I want the scent of pine drifting through my house.  

 

What are some of your holiday favorites?

Tagged: Christmas, Favorites, holidays

Guest Author Victoria Gray

I have a special treat today, a visit from historical author Victoria Gray! Victoria, please tell us about your latest release, and what else we can look forward to seeing from you! 

My new release, Angel in My Arms, is the story of Amanda Emerson, a Union spy undercover in Richmond, and Union officer Steve Dunham, the man she enlists in the daring rescue of a double agent from a Confederate prison and imminent execution. As the danger surrounding them thickens, every moment he's with her jeopardizes their lives, but they discover a passion that's worth the risk.

 

 

Meet the hero and heroine:

 

Steve Dunham, the hero in Angel in My Arms, is built like a Viking, has a twinkle in his eye, and he's got guts. Best of all, he's the kind of man who's had his share of women, but when he falls, he falls hard and forever. A seasoned Union operative, he faces danger on a daily basis, but when the woman he loves is threatened, he'll stop at nothing to keep her safe.

Amanda Emerson, the heroine, is a sable-haired beauty who joined up with a nest of Union spies living in Richmond. She's skilled at deception, but when she falls for the handsome spy she's drawn into their latest scheme, there's no way to hide her feelings. Amanda's gutsy and tender, a woman who doesn't even realize how beautiful she is. She doesn't want to fall for Steve – their love puts both in danger – but some tides are too hard to fight.

What's Next:

I'm currently finishing Against All Odds, a sequel to Angel in My Arms.  The story features Kate Sinclair, a beautiful Union spy who's part of the Richmond spy ring, and Will Reed, a Confederate officer whose love for Kate draws them both into a web of treachery and betrayal more dangerous than the fields of war.

Other Works:

 

If readers enjoy Angel in My Arms, I hope they'll check out Destiny, Steve's partner's story.  Jack Travis is a by-the-book Cavalry officer until he receives unusual orders: kidnap the daughter of a powerful United States senator. His captive is intelligent, headstrong, beautiful – and forbidden. He risks his neck to protect her.  But how can he protect her from himself?

Contact me at:

www.victoriagrayromance.com  www.victoriagrayromance.blogspot.com

Here's an excerpt from Angel In My Arms:

Amanda closed her eyes and savored his possession. How could anything feel as good as his lips against hers? With his arms wrapped tight

around her, she felt as though nothing could penetrate the tender shield of his embrace.

Wanting him was wrong. He was little more than a stranger. A man she'd teamed with for a mission. He was supposed to be nothing more.

But he'd filled her heart.

His handsome face captivated her all the more for its tiny imperfections. A small scar on his chin. The small bump at the bridge of his nose that told the tale of a long-ago break. Another scar, much more recent, on his jaw that looked to be the result of a man's ring connecting with his flesh and bone.

He was a warrior. Her warrior. Fierce. Tender. Courageous. Protective.

"You're so beautiful, Mandy." His lips trailed the column of her throat.

She nestled against his broad chest. He smelled like bay rum and pine and leather. She'd never realized how tantalizing the scents could be. Mingled with his natural essence, the blend of aromas touched something deep and primal within her. She couldn't resist the scent. Or him.

He took her hands in his. A sly smile curved his mouth as he studied her. "Such sweet temptation. The question is where to begin."

She'd wasn't an innocent, but she'd never experienced the heat of a man's gaze drinking her in as though she were a fine wine to be savored. When Steve looked at her, she felt wanted.

Desired.

Loved.

Ridiculous. He couldn't possibly love her.

But he hungered for her touch. That would have to be enough. After all, she didn't love him.

Keep telling yourself that, Mandy.

She couldn't love a man she barely knew.

Even if she longed for his scent. For his touch. For the moment when he'd claim her.

Even if she prayed he'd come to his senses and leave her before the rebels captured him and dragged him away to prison. Or a noose.

*****************

Victoria, thank you for sharing your stories today. I want readers to know they can find your books at The Wild Rose Press in both print and e-book format. Congratulations on your releases!

Tagged: Civil War Romance, Historical Romance, The Wild Rose Press, Victoria Gray

Curl Up In A Big Comfy Chair

With Her Majesty's Secret Servants!

Anyone who knows me knows that Sunday mornings are for bike rides. And I always say that when it comes to appreciating your neighborhood, there's nothing like getting out of your car and setting off either on foot or on a bike. You never know what treasures you'll come upon that go unnoticed at 40 mph. For instance…

What's this? Stop the bikes!! You know I can't pass up this opportunity.

Isn't it fabulous? There's even a cup of coffee perched on the arm, and a hassock to put your feet up on. But gee, I wish I'd brought a book. Oh, wait, look…

Here's a book! RIVER OF GRASS by Florida's own Marjory Stoneman Douglas, about Florida's unique and beautiful Everglades. It's a book that sits on my own library shelves. How perfect.

People often ask me where the ideas for my books come from, and I tell them that my love of  history provides plenty of fodder for stories. The truth is, it's the surprises I come upon in my research that most inspire my ideas.

For instance, when I decided to write in the Victorian period, I didn't know a lot about the queen when she was young. I was astonished to discover how lonely and isolated she'd been as a child…and that surprise led to the creation of her secret friends, the Sutherland Sisters – who will discover their own surprise as their stories continue. As I researched Victorian physics for OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS (Dec. 7th release), I was very surprised at how advanced the science of electricity had become by 1838 – and you can bet I took full advantage of that fact to put my characters up to some wild and wacky experimentation.

We should always be alert to life's surprises, always on the lookout for the unique and even the strange, because that's where we acquire our different points of view, where our preconceived notions are challenged, and where wholly new ideas are born. And when you do see something out-of-the-ordinary, seize the opportunity to climb right onto it and see the world from a whole new angle. Like I did today, from my big comfy chair.

By The way, this beautiful mosaic work of art is by Pat Campau, and sits outside the Center For The Arts in my town.

What fun surprises have you stumbled onto lately?

Tagged: art, Her Majesty's Secret Servants, ideas, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS, Queen Victoria, surprises

Award, Contest, Signing!

Today my editor emailed to let me know that the hero of MOST EAGERLY YOURS, Aidan Phillips, has been nominated for a 2010 Romantic Times K.I.S.S (Knight in Shining Silver) Award. The full list of RT Reviewers Choice nominees will be in the January issue, and the winners will be announced at the Convention in Los Angeles, April 6-10th. It was so exciting last year to be at the convention when I won the award for Best Historical Gothic of 2008, but I'm afraid I won't be there this time to hear the results. I'd love to go, but LA is just too far. Oh well.

In the midst that news, I also discovered that Simon, the hero of OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS (Dec. release) was also recognized with a K.I.S.S. in the December RT! I love my heroes, and it's good to know other people do, too!

Then an email came reminding me that I have a contest running all this month at CoffeeTime Romance. Head over there, answer three easy questions, and be entered in my drawing for a $20 Amazon gift certificate, which can be emailed anywhere in the world!. So no restrictions. While you're there, you can check out the other contests as well.

This Saturday, Nov. 6th from 2-5pm, I'll be at the Altamonte Mall, near Orlando, for a multi author signing sponsored by the Central Florida Romance Writers. The first 100 customers will receive a bag of goodies. For more info, check my appearances page (click above). This event will benefit The Adult Literacy League, so if you're in the area, please come by, do some holiday shopping for the readers on your list, and support a great cause.

It's been quite a day, and it's only Monday. I can't wait to see how the rest of the week shapes up!

Tagged: Book Signing, CoffeeTime Romance, Orlando, RT Book Reviews; Awards; K.I.S.S. Award

When Patience Pays Off

Yesterday my hubby and I headed out in squally weather with hopes that as we drove east toward the ocean, we'd drive out of the rain. We'd loaded our bikes in the back of his pickup, packed some water and snacks, wore bathing suits under our clothes and brought towels. We were ready for action.

The further east we went, the HARDER it rained. How could this be? It never rains at the beach – but we arrived under glowering skies, driving winds and spattering downpours. A waste of time?

Undaunted, we decided to wait it out…

And after a very short time, look what happened!

The water was clear and warm, absolutely delightful, but the strong riptides kept me from wading in above my knees. Even my husband, who's a strong swimmer, only went in chest deep. He didn't want to aggravate the lifeguards, who dread having to rescue careless swimmers on days like that.

 

 

Hollywood Beach is known for its boardwalk, over two miles long and lined with little shops and restaurants, and plenty of outside dining.  Being right next to the sand, it's laid back and completely casual. 

You won't find any slick highrise hotels here. We especially love the Art Deco buildings. Some are condos, some hotels, others private homes. Together they make a neighborhood that feels homey and genuine, a piece of the old Florida that's become so rare these days. I can't understand what possessed people years ago to tear down these charming areas, once everywhere along the FL coast, and replace them with generic, towering monsters.  

 

 

And what would a day at the beach be without a band playing in a Tiki hut? And no, they weren't playing Jimmy Buffet!

It's an open, breezy atmosphere where people bike, walk, skate, shop, eat, and party, active but relaxed, and for us it made the perfect Sunday getaway. What could be wrong in a place like this? I came home feeling fabulous and contented, like I'd had a mini-vacation.

Where do you go when you absolutely need to get away?

Tagged: Beach, Boardwalk, cycling, getaways, Hollywood Beach

3 New Reviews & A Booksigning!

Dear blogosphere, I know I've ignored you lately, and I'm sorry. I've been focused on writing…and speaking of which, with my next release coming out on Dec. 7th, things are getting exciting. The first two reviews for OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS are in, and they've got me smiling.

From Publishers Weekly (Dec. edition): "Entertaining vignettes about scientific advancements tested at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution complement the unflinching examination of the increasingly repressive early Victorian culture, making this a real treat for fans of both history and romance."

Wow, that's a bit of a mouthful, but I like how intelligent it makes my story sound! Rest assured, you don't have to be a scholar to love this book. I had fun learning a bit about Victorian physics, but a scientist I am not, and I included just enough to keep the story fun and exciting (things occasionally blow up!!). Don't worry, you won't find any pop quizzes in the epilogue.

Then from the fabulous Terri at Night Owl Reviews: "…Extremely entertaining…I found myself not wanting to put down this book…a fresh, unique feel to the romantic historical…" 5 Stars and a Reviewer's Top Pick! (the review will be posted 11/23)

I was also delighted to discover a new review for MOST EAGERLY YOURS from Errant Dreams Reviews: "…The combination of characters, maturity, and plot was so well balanced that I absolutely devoured this book." 4.5 stars!

Did I mention that I was smiling?

Of course, I can't just sit back and wait for accolades, lol. If you live in the Orlando area, you can find me at The Central Florida RWA's Romancing the Holiday's Booksigning on Saturday, Nov. 6th, from 2-5pm. We'll be at Center Court at the Altamonte Springs Mall, at 451 E. Altamonte Drive. I'll be one of a fantastic lineup of authors, and the first 100 customers get a goody bag of extras. Autographed books make great Christmas presents!! For more info, just click that clink above.

Phew, that's enough excitement for one day – time to crawl back into my cave to work on RECKLESSLY YOURS! Am I the only writer who sometimes forgets there's a real world out there?

Before I go, who else has exciting news to share?

Tagged: booksigning, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS, Publishers Weekly, reviews

Laugh Well, Live Well

It's long been established that laughter has physiological benefits. The other day I was reading through my Discover Magazine (Oct. 2010 edition) and found an article (with the title I used above) that states that not only does laughter boost the immune system, lower cholesterol and blood pressure, and reduce stress, it also causes "shifts in appetite hormones…that resemble the effects of a moderate session at the gym."

Pretty sweet, huh?

Where am I going with this, you wonder? Knowing all we know, why aren't there many more humorous romances available on the shelves, especially now, when it seems like we could all use a good laugh? I know writers who excel in this genre – and who in recent years have had to alter their writing style to reflect more serious themes. Dark paranormals continue to flourish – not that I'm knocking them! Dark paranormals are sexy and complex, and they present an opportunity for good to triumph over the worst kinds of evil. I get that in today's world, that can be enormously satisfying!

There's a lot to be said for living vicariously through shapeshifters and vampire slayers and fulfilling our need for vengeance by watching the bad guys get their comeuppance (which in real life they don't always get).  And admittedly I do enjoy a good romp through the shadowy abyss. But what about occasionally stepping out of the darkness altogether and enjoying a good belly-shaking laugh?

I love to watch sitcoms for this very reason. At the end of my day, I'd rather laugh with the Big Bang nerds and sing with the Gleeks than sit through the angst of young vampires in love or the pressure of a crime solving drama. Maybe it's just me, but I feel happier after spending a half hour to an hour chuckling. And every now and then – no, more often than that – I'd really like to pick up a book and experience the same lightening of my burdens. In fact I remember a couple of years ago going through a little dark spell of my own, and picking up a funny book by a friend and feeling SOOOOO much better!

So I guess my question is, how much longer are we going to be in this collective black mood? Because what would really be ideal is if, from now on, we could decide what we wanted to read, and one day pick up something scary and sexy and dark, and the next day something that makes us double over laughing.  Not only would we all be more emotionally well-balanced, but according to recent scientific studies, we'd have healthier, slimmer bodies to show for it.

Sounds like a happy ending to me!

Tagged: Humor, Laughter, Romance

They're OPPOSITES! Or Are they?

Opposites attract. Right? That's why so many romance novels feature characters with opposing goals. She's an environmentalist, he's a land developer. Or they're from warring Highland clans. With opposites, the conflict is built in and sparks are sure to fly.

But me, I never do things the easy way. I like a challenge. In OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS (coming in December), Ivy Sutherland and Simon de Burgh see eye to eye on a lot of things. They both love science, and how the world around them can be broken down into the principles of physics, which can then be used to harness nature's greatest powers. Neither is happier than when they're in the laboratory, unless it's to be in each other's arms.

So where's the conflict? In Victorian times, the idea of a woman dabbling in physics and electromagnetic forces was scandalous. The very fact of Simon being the perfect man for her – makes him the worst man for her.

She first begins working with him disguised as a young physics student at Cambridge University, and at his side her fondest dreams of scientific exploration are realized. But Ivy can't remain in disguise forever. If anyone were to discover her deception – good heavens, a woman in trousers, keeping company with men? – she would be ruined and her family humiliated. Her ruse was intended for one purpose only: to recover an item stolen from the queen. Once she has done this, she is to return to her ordinary life with her sisters.

Ivy's greatest challenge is to resist reaching for her heart's desire, embodied by both Simon and his laboratory.  No matter how heartbreaking, or how torn she feels between duty and desire, she has little choice but to accept that as a woman, her prospects are limited, and she must curb her aspirations accordingly.  Never mind that, having tasted freedom and the thrill of accomplishment, her old life will pale horribly in comparison. Propriety must be adhered to.

Do you think she'll succeed?

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Just for a chuckle, one of my favorite Sesame Street ditties, THEY'RE OPPOSITES!

Tagged: Conflict, Opposites, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS