Rhys Bowen's Blog, page 21

Countdown Day 5

Tuesday is getting closer and closer and I hope these little snippets of story are convincing you that you need to read Naughty in Nice. I'm not saying "buy" because I know that we can't all afford to buy new books and I think libraries are wonderful resources. What I hope you'll do is read and recommend. Oh, and enter my contest... details coming this weekend.

Here is today's snippet:
flirting is not one of Georgie's major skills, but she is trying it on the dangerous Sir Toby....

"Well, then, miss Georgie, I hope you'll come down and swim in my pool one day soon. And maybe we could go for a spin on my yacht."


"Could we really? I adore yachts." I wasn't sure if I was overdoing it.

"Then it's settled," he said. "Come over and I'll take you out on the yacht tomorrow. Come any time you like. I'll have the crew standing by."

"That's so kind of you, Sir Toby," I said. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"Not at all. Delighted to help out. See you tomorrow then."

I gave myself a pat on the back as I left. I had positively had him eating out of my hand. Now if I could just find out if he had the queen's snuff box at the villa, it should be an easy enough matter to slip inside and pinch it when I went down for a swim. Suddenly I felt very daring and worldly. I had flirted with a dashing marquis. I had had invitations from two English boys and wangled an invitation from Sir Toby. All in all a good evening. I chose not to remember the not so good parts.

Final Countdown, Day 4

It's getting close...only 4 days until launch Next Tuesday!
And on Monday I'll announce the details of my fun launch contest.

So here is snippet number 4.

Coco Chanel has persuaded Georgie, much against her will, to be a model in her fashion show for the elite expats in Nice. Georgie is sure something will go wrong.....

"And for my piece de resistance I give you the royal look, as modeled by a member of England's ruling family, Lady Georgiana Rannoch," Chanel announced.


There was a gasp and then applause. The catwalk stretched into darkness, looking about a mile long. I was conscious of upturned faces, sparkling jewels, champagne glasses. I forced one foot in front of the other, trying to walk as I had been taught. I was going to do this. I had done harder things in my life. I was not going to stumble. Step followed step. I was going to get through it.

Then suddenly it was as if my foot wouldn't move, as if something was holding it fast to the floor. I felt myself pitching forward, stumbling, trying to right myself. I might have done so but the end of the runway was before me. Flash bulbs went off in my face, blinding me. I vaguely heard gasps of horror as I staggered then pitched forward into blackness

Countdown, Day 3

Five days to go until Naughty in Nice is born--it's like the end of a pregancy: expectation, can't wait to get it over, just a little worried....

So here is snippet three from my new book. And keep watching for a contest announcement toward the end of the week....

On the Train to the Riviera where Lady Georgie is heading on a dubious errand from Queen Mary:


I looked down the rows of white clothed tables, their silver and china gleaming in the glow of little lamps. From here I couldn't see a table that wasn't occupied and wondered what the protocol was about joining someone on a train and whether I could ever pluck up courage to do that.

Of course the first person I noticed was the handsome Frenchman, sitting alone with another bottle of champagne beside him. He looked up from his soup and caught my gaze. He didn't smile or nod as would have been usual. Instead he frowned at me.

"You are English?" he asked in French.

I replied that I was.

"Curious," he replied. He was about to say something else when a voice from further down the car called to me, "I say. Aren't you Georgiana Rannoch?"

It was a smartly dressed English lady, probably in her late forties. She was sitting with an exquisite and obviously French woman. I agreed that I was.

"Would you like to join us?" the first woman said. "It's rather full at the moment but we have room, don't we Coco?"

The Frenchwoman nodded and smiled. "Bien sure," she said, waving a cigarette holder in my direction.

The Englishwoman stuck out a hand. "You look the spitting image of your father. I used to know him well. I'm Vera, by the way. Vera Bate Lombardi, and I believe we're related, at least through marriage."

I sat down on the chair she had pulled out for me. She waved imperiously and a waiter appeared. "My lady will be joining us, so set another place and you'd better bring us another bottle of Veuve Cliquot."

I wasn't sure I wanted to dine with a rather bossy Englishwoman who claimed to be related to me, but it was better than standing like a wallflower.

"I actually stayed at Castle Rannoch when you were little," she continued, "although I don't suppose you remember me. We went out riding together once. You were a splendid little horsewoman."

"Thank you," I said. "I don't often get a chance to ride any more and I miss it."

"So do I," she said. "I'm in Paris most of the year now, traipsing around behind Coco, and one can hardly get a decent gallop in the Bois de Boulogne.."

"You do not traipse behind me," Coco said in English. "It makes you sound like a dog on a lead. Since you take bigger strides than I, then I am usually running to keep up with you. But you must introduce us, Vera. This very English young lady will not speak to me unless properly introduced."

I laughed, but Vera said, "Sorry. Bad of me. Coco, this is Bertie's daughter, Georgiana Rannoch. And this is my dear friend and business partner, Coco Chanel."

Count Down--Day 2

Only 6 days to go to the release of Naughty in Nice.

Here is snippet number 2--which takes place with the Queen at Buckingham Palace: 

"A valuable snuff box is missing from my collection, Georgiana."


"Stolen, you mean?"

"I'm rather afraid so."

"Isn't that a matter for the police?"

She shook her head firmly. "I can't mention this to the police. It's too embarrassing. You see the snuff boxes were on display in one of the niches in the Music room. Two weeks ago we held a large reception there for the New Year honors. Shortly afterward, I noticed one of the boxes was missinGeorgig. So the choice of culprit is either one of the servants, or one of the guests at our reception. I have conducted a secret investigation of the servants, but those who were in attendance that night had all been with us for some time and had impeccable backgrounds. Which leaves only one conclusion—a person who attended that elite gathering made off with one of my snuff boxes

Georgie's task--to retrieve the snuff box from a notorious bounder!
 
Naughty in Nice in stores Sept 6, or order now from Amazon!

One Week Countdown starts Now!

Starting a one week countdown to the launch of Naughty in Nice on Sept 6th with snippets from the book designed to make you rush out and pre-order it, or at least line up at your local bookstore at midnight on the sixth!
And watch out for contest details at the end of the week. I'll be announcing the winner of my comments contest and telling you about the new publication contest both of which will offer fun and French prizes (no, not naughty ones)

So here's snippet number one:

The Riviera had never looked more inviting. The sun sparkled on a sea of deepest blue. Elegant couples strolled beneath the palm trees on the Boulevard des Anglais. The scent of mimosa blossoms hung in the air while a seagull soared lazily overhead…I gave a contented sigh.


"'ere, watch it, love. You're slopping soup all over." The gruff voice that brought me back to the present with a jerk. I wrenched my eyes away from the poster on the wall and down to the scene in front of me. A long, gray line of shabbily dressed men, muffled against the bitter cold, snaked across Victoria Station. They clutched mugs or bowls and stood patiently, eyes down or staring, as I had been, into a world that nobody else could see but them. I was currently helping out at the station soup kitchen. It was a bitter and bleak January day, and I felt as cold and miserable as those poor wretches who shuffled past me.

Sending Good thoughts!

I'm not posting today and tomorrow because I'm sending good thoughts, positive vibes, prayers to all my friends who live on the East Coast of the US.

Let's hope the news media has exaggerated the possible danger(as they have been known to do), but I'm also worrying about places in New York where I have spoken in the past--South Street Seaport Museum, Police Museum, both on the Eastern shoreline and certain to get water into them.

And Peter Cooper village where I spend many happy visits and still have friends, and Molly's neighborhood in Greenwich Village--I hope that's far enough from the Hudson to be safe. Oh and Ellis Island, for which I will always have a fondness since Murphy's Law.

Stay safe, stay dry everyone.

French Feast Memories

Returning to French food today and to some memorable meals I've had in France. When I was sixteen I went to stay with a French family. Usually the meals were simple in the extreme: a green bean salad with olive oil and bread for lunch. A thin slice of steak cooked in butter.
 However while I was there they had family from Corsica visiting and Maman cooked a special lunch. To describe this as lunch is an understatement, except that it started at one o'clock. The first course was a whole lobster each, accompanied by champagne. Then followe a pate, duck in a very rich sauce, a salad, a gateau sinfully dripping with cream and liqueur and then a cheese board. Every course was accompanied by a different wine. The meal went on until five o'clock. I had grown up on simple school food and maybe a sip of wine at Christmas and this was all way too much for me. That evening I was extremely sick.
But it did show me that when the French go to town on food, they REALLY go to town.

Wrapped in a Gallic Shrug

One thing I've always envied about Frenchwomen and that is the way they can manage their scarves. They toss them casually over one sholder, they twist them and tuck them and they look fabulous.
I try the same thing and they slip off as I'm boarding a plane, or look like a hideous knot around my neck.
It has to be in the genes, don't you think? Certain nationalities are born with certain skills, and scarf wearing is definitely a skill of the French--together with that Gallic shrug.
My friend Cara Black--she of the Aimee LeDuc series,with whom I do a lot of events--has learned that shrug so well and even manages a good looking scarf these days.The problem is that I love scarves. I'd like to toss one over my shoulder and look elegant. But they won't stay put. Perhaps I shoujld go and live in Paris for six months and then I'd learn.Any tips on scarf wearing for dummies?

Or I could always ask Coco Chanel,with whom I've spent the past year (only in my head, as she is part of the story of Naughty in Nice)Don't forget to comment for a chance to win a fun and maybe fashionable French prize.

John's famous crepes recipe

My husband John is a big fan of crepes (yes, real men do eat pancakes).
He worked out a fabulous recipe. Because there is so much butter in it, you just need fruit and/or syrup to go with it. John likes it the old fashioned way with sugar and lemon juice.

4 eggs
2 cups milk
2 cups flour (by weight is 215 grams)
pinch of salt
quarter pound stick of melted butter

blend in blender.
better made the night before.
cook hot pan very thin. Serve with fresh fruit or choice of syrup
OR
Savory fillings like ham and cheese, shrimp with cream sauce etc.

Mmm. Getting hungry.

13 days to go until Naughty in Nice is in stores. Don't forget to leave a comment for a prize at the end of the month.

More French fast food

Day of anticipation. In exactly two weeks, on Sept 6th, I'll be celebrating the launch of my new book, Naughty in Nice

For the past two weeks I've been focusing on all things French--food, fashion, history. After posting on mussels yesterday my thoughts are still in Brittany and on their other famous fast food--the crepe.

If you want a light meal or a snack, you visit a Creperie. Actually the savory ones are called Galettes and are often made with buckwheat flour. They are topped with ham, cheese, fried egg, shrimp, spinach etc. All delicious.
But my favorites are the true crepes--thin crisp pancakes with fruit, chocolate, cream, honey, all of the above...
Sorry, I'm drooling. Have to stop.
My husband makes a terrific crepe recipe which I'll post sometime. It involves a whole stick of butter in the blender mix. No wonder it's so good.