Alison Stuart's Blog, page 10
October 8, 2015
A Wicked Wager - Guest Beverley Eikli
It is my great pleasure to do a shout out today for my friend, historical romance writer Beverley Eikli whose latest book, WICKED WAGER, has just been released by Escape Publishing.
Beverley has just joined me at Escape Publishing so we are not only friends but stable mates. I asked her about Wicked Wager's tortuous path to publication.
"Thanks so much for showcasing my first Escape Publishing release, Alison. The story has undergone many changes since it was first due to be released by another publisher before things in the publishing world changed for me.
I'm delighted with the fabulous cover the story was given by Escape and if you stare into the calculating depths of the dazzlingly beautiful woman it features, you might suspect that this is one woman who knows how to get what she wants.
My heroine is just as beautiful, yet more innocent, so I think the cover has to be that of the ruthless society beauty who is (sigh) just so beautiful she can get away with anything...until she discovers that the innocent little piece she'd thought to entrap is actually more resourceful than she'd given her credit for.
Here is a bit about Wicked Wager...
Wicked Wager
A dissolute rake, a virtuous lady, a ruthless society beauty, and a missing plantation owner with secrets – just another day in Georgian England… 1780 Wealthy Jamaican plantation owner, Harry Carstairs has disappeared – and everyone wants to know where he is… Celeste Rosington knows her place in society, and while she may not be overjoyed at her upcoming wedding to her detached cousin, Raphael, she nonetheless hopes the marriage will be successful. When Raphael asks her for her help to save Harry, she agrees. But her decision costs her more than she knows… Celeste’s clandestine visit to Harry’s home is witnessed, and her connection to Harry misconstrued. Harry’s secrets put Celeste into more danger than even Raphael understands, and throws her into the path of the ruthless, cunning, beautiful Lady Busselton and the dissolute, dangerous Lord Peregrine. Raphael is invested in keeping Harry alive. Lady Busselton is invested in keeping him quiet. Lord Peregrine is invested in anything that staves off boredom. And Celeste is becoming increasingly invested in Lord Peregrine. After all, what resistance does an innocent young woman have against something so deliciously wicked?
About Beverley Oakley
Beverley Eikli was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Sadly, her high hopes for a six figure publishing deal were dashed after she was informed that drowning her heroine on the last page was not in line with the expectations of romance readers. Since then Beverley has written more than twelve historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Redemption is her favourite theme and if she can pull off a thrilling, page-turning race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – then it’s definitely time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch. Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony in a pretty country town an hour north of Melbourne. She also writes steamier historicals as Beverley Oakley. Connect with Beverley: Website | Twitter | Facebook Page | Mailing list
Beverley has just joined me at Escape Publishing so we are not only friends but stable mates. I asked her about Wicked Wager's tortuous path to publication.
"Thanks so much for showcasing my first Escape Publishing release, Alison. The story has undergone many changes since it was first due to be released by another publisher before things in the publishing world changed for me.
I'm delighted with the fabulous cover the story was given by Escape and if you stare into the calculating depths of the dazzlingly beautiful woman it features, you might suspect that this is one woman who knows how to get what she wants.
My heroine is just as beautiful, yet more innocent, so I think the cover has to be that of the ruthless society beauty who is (sigh) just so beautiful she can get away with anything...until she discovers that the innocent little piece she'd thought to entrap is actually more resourceful than she'd given her credit for.
Here is a bit about Wicked Wager...
Wicked Wager
A dissolute rake, a virtuous lady, a ruthless society beauty, and a missing plantation owner with secrets – just another day in Georgian England… 1780 Wealthy Jamaican plantation owner, Harry Carstairs has disappeared – and everyone wants to know where he is… Celeste Rosington knows her place in society, and while she may not be overjoyed at her upcoming wedding to her detached cousin, Raphael, she nonetheless hopes the marriage will be successful. When Raphael asks her for her help to save Harry, she agrees. But her decision costs her more than she knows… Celeste’s clandestine visit to Harry’s home is witnessed, and her connection to Harry misconstrued. Harry’s secrets put Celeste into more danger than even Raphael understands, and throws her into the path of the ruthless, cunning, beautiful Lady Busselton and the dissolute, dangerous Lord Peregrine. Raphael is invested in keeping Harry alive. Lady Busselton is invested in keeping him quiet. Lord Peregrine is invested in anything that staves off boredom. And Celeste is becoming increasingly invested in Lord Peregrine. After all, what resistance does an innocent young woman have against something so deliciously wicked?An excerpt from Wicked WagerLord Peregrine liked a wager. The cards, the horses, occasionally a pair of spiders, could whip up his blood and tip him out of the lethargy and ennui which characterised his usual state of being.This wager, though, was different. He could feel it in the sudden stillness into which he’d been plunged; the colour, vibrancy and chatter that had washed about him from the moment he and Xenia had stepped into their box at the theatre, sucked into the void. Xenia’s seductive purr as she put her head close to his was as sweet as a feather skimming his heated, naked flesh. And as dangerous as a black widow’s bite. ‘Come, Perry, it’s not like you to have scruples.’ He blinked to clear his mind and as his gaze raked the breathtaking contours of London’s most beautiful widow—and probably its most immoral—he wasn’t sure if the thrumming of blood to his extremities was due to outrage or titillation. Slowly he exhaled, acknowledging almost sadly that it was the latter, which would of course confirm society’s opinion of him as a bored and dissolute libertine who’d done nothing but wallow in his father’s wealth, living a life of scandal. A man totally without redemption. Indeed he would deserve every uncomplimentary epithet hurled at him if he accepted darling Xenia’s outrageous wager. He surprised himself with his hesitation. A sudden flowering of moral fibre? Or fear? Clearly Xenia was surprised by his lack of enthusiasm, for she glanced at him askance, before her lips curved into that devastating smile that never failed to render him no better than her unruly, slavering hounds of whom she was so fond, who rutted with anything that crossed their paths. And there was the rub. Yes, he was immoral, he was dissolute, but at thirty-three he couldn’t believe he was totally beyond redemption. Lord Peregrine sighed, abandoning the daydream he was better than he was—for that’s all it was—and met Xenia’s ice blue gaze while he schooled his features to betray no emotion. A lifetime’s practice under the brutal tutelage of his uncle had made this easy. He could appear unmoved when it was true to say that he still was capable of some feeling. Whether that was a good thing or not was a matter he’d not yet decided. And then he took another sip of his champagne. Around him the theatre once again pulsed with the energy he’d been conscious of before Xenia’s carefully calculated whisper. Oh, she was good. She knew exactly how to stir his blood. Xenia gave a soft, throaty laugh. ‘She’s over there, if you want to look.’ He followed the direction indicated by her elegant finger, towards the stalls where two society beauties, with painted faces and elaborate pomaded coiffures two-feet high, were making eyes at the gentlemen over the top of ivory pointed fans. ‘No, not there!’ Peregrine smiled. He enjoyed teasing her. Xenia was quick to irritation. Quick to anger, and quick to passion, too. The high-pitched inducements of the girls selling oranges in the pits almost drowned out the wavering top notes, which concluded the opera singer’s aria; and as Peregrine searched for the object under discussion, his thoughts revolved around the usual litany of: ‘Diversion, diversion; anything for diversion’. No, certainly these were not the thoughts of a gentleman; more like a wolf wearing the trappings of one. ‘She’s a beauty, isn’t she?’ He was aware that Xenia was watching him carefully, but again Peregrine schooled his features into a mask of indifference, even before he’d assimilated the scene before him. And then the blurred images coalesced into one and as he regarded the handsome couple seated across the gallery, something in the graceful movements of the young woman stirred his senses, triggering an emotion not dissimilar to the energy that surged through him as he followed the hunt, charging with the rest of them after the wily fox. By God, it was good to feel something that wasn’t boredom.Order in Digital Format
About Beverley Oakley
Beverley Eikli was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Sadly, her high hopes for a six figure publishing deal were dashed after she was informed that drowning her heroine on the last page was not in line with the expectations of romance readers. Since then Beverley has written more than twelve historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Redemption is her favourite theme and if she can pull off a thrilling, page-turning race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – then it’s definitely time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch. Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony in a pretty country town an hour north of Melbourne. She also writes steamier historicals as Beverley Oakley. Connect with Beverley: Website | Twitter | Facebook Page | Mailing list
October 4, 2015
Putting a litte EROS in your writing - guest Diane Demetre
I was a little taken aback the other day to receive a one star review and a complaint from the reviewer about my 'pages and pages of explicit sex'. My crit group were rolling around on the floor laughing as anyone who reads my books would know that nothing could be further from the truth. I think I might need some guidance in this area!So who better to ask than the lovely and talented, Diane Demetre.
Diane has worked in the education and entertainment industries as a school teacher, dancer, choreographer, director and guest celebrity, as well as managing and owning her own successful businesses.
Having spent many years as a stress & life skills therapist, motivational speaker and life coach, she adopted the pseudonym of the Goddess of Love, making guest appearances on national radio and television in Australia, offering advice on life, love, sex and relationships.
Her first foray into fiction was released this week. DANCING QUEEN is the first in an erotic trilogy and who better to ask about how one puts 'eros' into erotic then this amazing lady.
You can find out more about Diane on her website. Click HERE
Putting Eros into Erotic Romance
I never thought I’d write erotic romance but the story swirling in my mind could have been nothing but that. A love story with a twist meant the sexual relationship between the lead characters was critical to the plot. More than just sexual tension, there needed to be highly erotic scenes describing the style of sex play, so the full impact of the story could be experienced in the story’s resolution.
Yet highly descriptive, blow-by-blow sex scenes, (sorry for the pun), rarely imbue the reader with a compelling reason to continue reading. Without the characters’ deeper internal and external relationships, a story falters. Enter — Eros — the mythological Greek god of love. Recognised for his wings, bow and quiver of arrows, and often know under the alias of Cupid, he represents the most fundamental of all human needs. Love.
Without Eros, a story often falls short of a romance readers’ expectation. This is true in all sub-genres of romance but especially for me, in erotic romance. When carnal desire is underpinned by a profound yearning, Eros weaves magic into the story. This yearning can be for one’s own awakening and to experience a more fulfilling sense of self love, self-worth and self-value. Or this yearning carries the character outside of him/herself, to connect with another at such a spiritual level, even when the odds are stacked against them.
In most cases, the yearning for love is both an internal and external expression of hope. Without loving oneself, we cannot truly love another and this is true of us as human beings as well as the characters we write about. When I put Eros into my erotic romances, he becomes my muse. He guides me to delve deeper, to look for love and express that love through my characters words, actions and importantly, my sex scenes. And when I get it right, he taps me on the shoulder, blows me a kiss and flies off selflessly to another in need of his magic.
About Dancing Queen
When Michele Johnston, a sexy forty-two-year-old ex-dancer from the Moulin Rouge gets divorced, she leaps into her new world of singledom with unbridled passion. Having been in monogamous relationships all her life, she decides to cast off her inhibitions and release her repressed sexuality through casual sex.Aided and abetted by three vivacious girlfriends, Michele embarks on her new erotic adventures, but gets more than she expects, when mysterious yacht captain Mark Miller unleashes her wanton desires.
Further complicating matters, debonair Greek businessman Nick Stavros arrives on the scene and falls madly in love with her, promising the happy-ever-after ending. Although not her
type, Michele finds his charm and persistence strangely bewitching.
But will she give up her new-found freedom? Will she choose one man over the other?
And who’s the special someone she’s been unconsciously searching for all her life?
Dancing Queen is a steamy, erotic romance where you can expect the unexpected from the heady heights of love to everything in between.
Reader Advisory: This book contains a sexually empowered heroine and willing men to fulfil her desires. Casual sex scenes with recreational drug use. Red hot romance rating 5
October 2, 2015
Putting a litte EROS in your writing - guest Diane deMetre
I was a little taken aback the other day to receive a one star review and a complaint from the reviewer about my 'pages and pages of explicit sex'. My crit group were rolling around on the floor laughing as anyone who reads my books would know that nothing could be further from the truth. I think I might need some guidance in this area!So who better to ask than the lovely and talented, Diane Demetre.
Diane has worked in the education and entertainment industries as a school teacher, dancer, choreographer, director and guest celebrity, as well as managing and owning her own successful businesses.
Having spent many years as a stress & life skills therapist, motivational speaker and life coach, she adopted the pseudonym of the Goddess of Love, making guest appearances on national radio and television in Australia, offering advice on life, love, sex and relationships.
Her first foray into fiction was released this week. DANCING QUEEN is the first in an erotic trilogy and who better to ask about how one puts 'eros' into erotic then this amazing lady.
You can find out more about Diane on her website. Click HERE
Putting Eros into Erotic Romance
I never thought I’d write erotic romance but the story swirling in my mind could have been nothing but that. A love story with a twist meant the sexual relationship between the lead characters was critical to the plot. More than just sexual tension, there needed to be highly erotic scenes describing the style of sex play, so the full impact of the story could be experienced in the story’s resolution.
Yet highly descriptive, blow-by-blow sex scenes, (sorry for the pun), rarely imbue the reader with a compelling reason to continue reading. Without the characters’ deeper internal and external relationships, a story falters. Enter — Eros — the mythological Greek god of love. Recognised for his wings, bow and quiver of arrows, and often know under the alias of Cupid, he represents the most fundamental of all human needs. Love.
Without Eros, a story often falls short of a romance readers’ expectation. This is true in all sub-genres of romance but especially for me, in erotic romance. When carnal desire is underpinned by a profound yearning, Eros weaves magic into the story. This yearning can be for one’s own awakening and to experience a more fulfilling sense of self love, self-worth and self-value. Or this yearning carries the character outside of him/herself, to connect with another at such a spiritual level, even when the odds are stacked against them.
In most cases, the yearning for love is both an internal and external expression of hope. Without loving oneself, we cannot truly love another and this is true of us as human beings as well as the characters we write about. When I put Eros into my erotic romances, he becomes my muse. He guides me to delve deeper, to look for love and express that love through my characters words, actions and importantly, my sex scenes. And when I get it right, he taps me on the shoulder, blows me a kiss and flies off selflessly to another in need of his magic.
About Dancing Queen
When Michele Johnston, a sexy forty-two-year-old ex-dancer from the Moulin Rouge gets divorced, she leaps into her new world of singledom with unbridled passion. Having been in monogamous relationships all her life, she decides to cast off her inhibitions and release her repressed sexuality through casual sex.Aided and abetted by three vivacious girlfriends, Michele embarks on her new erotic adventures, but gets more than she expects, when mysterious yacht captain Mark Miller unleashes her wanton desires.
Further complicating matters, debonair Greek businessman Nick Stavros arrives on the scene and falls madly in love with her, promising the happy-ever-after ending. Although not her
type, Michele finds his charm and persistence strangely bewitching.
But will she give up her new-found freedom? Will she choose one man over the other?
And who’s the special someone she’s been unconsciously searching for all her life?
Dancing Queen is a steamy, erotic romance where you can expect the unexpected from the heady heights of love to everything in between.
Reader Advisory: This book contains a sexually empowered heroine and willing men to fulfil her desires. Casual sex scenes with recreational drug use. Red hot romance rating 5
September 26, 2015
#FallReading Blog Hop - Meet my Guest Margaret Madigan
I am very excited to be a part of a Historical Romance Blog Hop this weekend, hosted by the lovely girls at BOOKS 'N PEARLS.
OVER THE WEEKEND THERE WILL BE DOZENS OF FABULOUS HISTORICAL ROMANCE AUTHORS TO MEET AND PRIZES TO BE WON. To hop over to the next blog click the Link at the end of this blog.
I grew up on 'Westerns' so I am delighted to be hosting MARGARET MADIGAN, whose latest book GAMBLING ON THE OUTLAW came out in June this year.
ABOUT GAMBLING ON THE OUTLAW
Beth Caldwell is no man's property. A gambler's widow with a willful, independent streak, she's already courting trouble after rejecting an offer of marriage from a foul-tempered and land-hungry cattle baron. But when Beth discovers a
handsome outlaw hiding in her barn, she lands in a whole new heap of trouble...
Isaac Collins survived the Civil War only to find himself scapegoated for stagecoach robbery and murder. With nothing left to lose, he gambled everything on revenge and barely escaped with his life. Now he's relying on the kindness of a fierce, strong-willed woman...and God help him if there isn't something
both sweet and forbidden simmering between them.
But Beth's rejected suitor is no gentleman. He'll do whatever it takes to get her land. And in Nevada, sometimes everything can ride on one a high-stakes game of chance.
Read an Excerpt from GAMBLING ON THE OUTLAW
I squared my shoulders and entered the room, determined to behave myself properly.
He was sat up in bed with several pillows piled behind him for support, looking every bit as if he belonged there, enough so that last night came to mind and I was tempted to crawl in and snuggle up next to him. But I gave myself a mental shake. He was quickly turning me into a silly schoolgirl.
I am a strong, independent woman .
I had other women depending on me and I couldn’t let some male drifter, a wanted
man no less, distract me from my responsibilities.
I placed the tray on his lap and backed away as quickly as possible, taking a
seat in the rocker I’d spent so much time in the last few days.
“It seems your presence is causing quite a stir around here. My friends don’t quite know how to react to you.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You said none of your lady friends knows how to react to me. What about you? Do you know how to react to me?”
The taste of his lips on mine leaped to mind unbidden, along with the feel of his hands on me, and that’s all it took for my double-crossing heart, and my equally rebellious body, to react with lusty desire. I’d assumed I’d never again be lucky enough to find a man who made me feel that way, and yet here he was, already in my bed.
Although I wanted very much to shift from the rocker to the edge of the bed and assist him with his breakfast, perhaps feeding him bits of bread with creamy butter that he’d have to lick from my fingertips, I opted for maintaining at least a modicum of decency and kept my rear end rooted to the chair. I suspected where Mr. Isaac Collins was concerned, me and my good sense were in a heap of
trouble, because my body had clearly declared war against us.
“Just how would you expect me to react?”
He’d been watching me, waiting for my answer, those warm brown eyes regarding me from under a fringe of dark lashes, making my belly flutter like a flock of hummingbirds had nested inside.
“A smart woman would be on her guard. She’d be concerned and maybe even afraid, and she’d send me on my way, happy to see the back of me. And I took you for a smart woman.”
Buy GAMBLING ON THE OUTLAW from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Entangled, Kobo and where all good Ebooks are sold.
ABOUT MARGARET MADIGAN
Margaret is an author of romance and science fiction with Entangled Publishing and Evernight Publishing. She is a hard core
Oregon Ducks fan. and a d
onut and pastry addict.
Best of all... she likes cats!
When she's not writing you’ll find her in a college classroom teaching English, or working as a literary agent for an amazing agency…and of course, wrangling her family.
Connect with Margaret:
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September 24, 2015
Contraception in the Regency - Guest Elizabeth Rolls
I am delighted to welcome one of my BFFs to the blog this week, multi award winning Regency writer, ELIZABETH ROLLS.Elizabeth lives in the Adelaide Hills of South Australia with her husband, two teenage sons and a menagerie of three dogs, two cats and several chickens. She spends more time than she cares to contemplate on the local junior soccer competition, has what most people consider too many books, and nurses a well-known passion for tea, coffee and chocolate. Since she lives surrounded by apple orchards she considers it lucky that she likes apples almost as much as she likes chocolate biscuits.
Connect with Elizabeth through her website... click HERE Secret Women's Business DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME... if you are interested in this subject or tempted to try any herbal remedy for any reason whatsoever, do get professional advice. Many herbs can kill. We tend to think of effective birth control as something that happened in the 1960’s with the advent of the Pill. In fact women in various walks of life have been tiptoeing around the issue of contraception for centuries. Many cultures have or had taboos on the subject. During the 18th and 19th centuries there were laws in Britain that made women and children essentially the property of a man. While condoms were available, they were mainly used by men with prostitutes to avoid disease. Nice, well-brought up young ladies would have had no idea that such a thing was even possible and a married woman had no right to regulate her own reproduction.
Mid-wives certainly knew which herbs would prevent a pregnancy or end one. Queen Anne’s Lace, Pennyroyal, Tansy and Rue among others, all work. All have been known for centuries and the knowledge was right there in the pharmacopoeias under such phrases as “to regulate the menses.”
Apart from midwives it seems likely that women who made their living as courtesans, or at least had a less rarefied up-bringing than your average Regency miss, probably knew how to avoid conceiving. Very few of the well-known courtesans of the 18th and 19th centuries had children. Harriette Wilson, Elizabeth Armistead, Cora Pearl and Catherine Walters, to name a few. One exception was Wilson’s one-time friend Julia Johnstone who had a dozen children by her lover, Colonel Cotton. Tellingly, before her fall from grace, Julia was a well-brought up young lady.
John Riddle’s book, Eve’s Herbs (Harvard University Press, 1997) is a fascinating account of herbal contraception through the ages and he points out that this was very much women’s knowledge and was passed on orally from woman to woman, right up to the mid-twentieth century when the Pill arrived.
Faced with the prospect of becoming mistress to an Earl with whom she is rapidly falling in love, Lucy worries about the risk bringing an innocent child into the disaster of her life. In the following scene she is given some very practical advice by her landlady. I went with Queen Anne’s Lace because after checking out a number of works on herbal remedies it seemed the easiest to use.
The stairs creaked and heavy footsteps came across the landing. A very perfunctory knock heralded her landlady with a bucket of coal.‘Mrs Beattie. Good evening.’ She blinked at the coal. ‘Um, I haven’t paid the rent yet.’ And didn’t know how she was going to find the money anyway.
Mrs Beattie came over and put the bucket down by the fire. ‘Your man did that.’
‘What?’ Lucy’s stomach knotted. Every feminine instinct screamed a warning.
‘Coal, too, he said.’
How could she refuse him if he’d paid the rent?
Mrs Beattie set her hands on her hips. ‘Thought I’d bring some up while he was out.’ The lady’s mouth was a flat line. ‘Got something to say that he don’ need to hear. Ain’t my business, but I’m going to say it.’
Realising she’d have more chance of stopping a runaway coach, Lucy nodded dazedly.
‘Mr Wynn’s got the right of it…’ Mrs Beattie began.
‘Mr Wynn?’
‘Aye. Took one look at your fancy man just now and said you’d done right well for yourself.’ Mrs Beattie looked around. ‘Can’t blame him for not wantin’ to do it here. Dessay it ain’t quite what he’s used to. Dine off gold plate, that sort.’
Didn’t want to do what here? Lucy had no idea what that was about, although she thought gold plate an exaggeration, but Mrs Beattie hadn’t finished.
‘Thing is, I reckon you don’t know what’s what,’ she said. ‘Maybe you believe he’s just lookin’ for yer pa, maybe you don’t—’
‘Mrs Beattie—’
‘No.’ She waved Lucy to silence. ‘I’ll say me piece. Thing is, he reckons he ain’t out to take you for a ride. Dunno who he’s trying to fool. Me, you, maybe himself, but take it from me, a man don’t pay a girl’s rent less he wants something, and you—’ she pointed at Lucy ‘—need to know what’s what, or you will get took for a ride.’
Lucy swallowed. If Lord Cambourne had paid the rent she wouldn’t be on the street tomorrow, but she knew what he expected in return.
Mrs Beattie continued. ‘Lord knows men don’t worry about these things.’ Her lip curled. ‘Sweet as pie, when they’re getting what they want from a girl, but God help her once he’s got it an’ she’s got his brat planted in her belly.’
Lucy blushed and Mrs Beattie nodded. ‘That’s right. Now, you know what happens, what goes where? All very well to worry about the chicken an’ the egg, but it’s what goes on with the rooster getting’ the egg into the chicken you got to think about now.’
Wondering if she could actually be any more embarrassed, Lucy nodded weakly. She had grown up in the country and knew how the fields got populated with lambs and calves each year, but speech was beyond her.
‘Right. What you won’t know is that there’s ways of not catching.’ Mrs Beattie drew a canister from a pocket in her apron and opened it. ‘These here is Queen Anne’s Lace seeds. You chew a spoonful, with water, straight after, or as straight after as you can.’
‘Straight after—? Oh.’
Understanding crashed over Lucy and with it, shame. All this time she had thought of Mrs Beattie as the foe, even disliked her. And here she was, offering practical advice and help in the best way she could. Maybe she did have a fairy godmother…
She stared at the seeds. ‘Mrs Beattie, you’re very kind, but—’
‘Don’t say you don’t need ’em, missy.’ Mrs Beattie’s scowl was thunderous. ‘Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. But it’s better to have `em when you don’t need ’em, than not have `em when you do.’ She put the lid back on and smacked the jar down on the table. ‘No need for anyone else to know what they are. Just a tonic for when you’re feeling poorly is all a man needs to know. Don’t like it when a girl takes precautions, do they?’ She snorted. ‘Like they’re the one as has to birth the brat an’ nurse it, an’ have everyone lookin’ sideways at ’em like you ain’t good enough to sweep a dirty crossing!’
She crossed her arms and glared at Lucy as if challenging her to dispute this blistering view of the world’s hypocrisy.
‘Do they really work?’
Mrs Beattie nodded. ‘Like a charm. I near died when the baby came. Me neighbour told me about these.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Reckoned it was just an old wives’ tale, I did. But I tried ’em, an’ I never caught again. Never told my man, neither. What a man don’t know can’t hurt you.’
IN DEBT TO THE EARL (coming in Jan 16)
In his quest for revenge against a disreputable card sharp, James, Earl of Cambourne, discovers the man's innocent daughter. While her surroundings are impoverished, her dignity and refinement are unmistakable, and James faces an unsettling question—what will be her fate if he brings her father to justice? Although yearning for love and comfort, Lucy resists the earl's surprising offer of protection. That is until a price is made on her virginity, and James is the only man who can save her
September 18, 2015
From Pegleg to Prosthetics - Becky Lower
Firstly welcome to the new look blog home for Ms. Stuart Requests! I am delighted to welcome Becky Lower as my first guest in the new pad.
Becky loves to write about two people finding each other and falling in love, amid the backdrop of a great setting, be it present day middle America or on a covered wagon headed west in the 1850s. She has a degree is in English and Journalism and lives in an eclectic college town in Ohio with a puppy-mill rescue dog, Mary.
FROM PEGLEG TO PROSTHETICS!
I had the opportunity to learn about prosthetic devices while doing research for A Widow’s Salvation, which is a story about how the (American) Civil War affected the everyday person. While we’ve all heard stories about Pegleg Pete and Captain Hook and their prosthetics, I had no idea such devices had been uncovered as far back at 950 BC! Obviously, these were crude devices at best. It wasn’t until the Civil War in the 1860s that advances in prosthetics began to emerge.
The huge number of amputations that were being done to save lives of the soldiers forced America to focus on the betterment of prosthetic devices for their soldiers. James Hanger was one of the first amputees of this war and took it upon himself to fashion a limb from whittled barrel staves. This crude device was transformed and advancements in the way prosthetics fit and worked happened in rapid succession due to the Civil War.
When I see the men and women who have lost legs due to war or other tragedy using today’s high-tech computerized prosthetics to run marathons, I am in awe of how far this industry has come.
Oscar Pistorius 'blade runner'
A WIDOW'S SALVATION
In 1862 America, the Civil War has raged for twelve months. Pepper Fitzpatrick Brown’s heart was broken when her husband died with the first volley at Manassas. Now she’s a widow raising three young boys and plans to honor his sacrifice by volunteering at the army hospital.
When Colonel Elijah Williams can grab a few minutes to nap between his duties as head surgeon at MacDougall Army Hospital in the Bronx, his sleep is invaded with nightmares of the atrocities he’s seen. His life has narrowed to nothing but the bloody war … until he meets Pepper Brown. But her father is concerned Elijah doesn’t have the best intentions, and Pepper is fearful of loving and losing again.
It’s hard to find happiness in a war-torn United States, but these two stand a fighting chance—if they can save what’s left of their hearts.
TO BUY click HERE
Read an excerpt:
“Good afternoon, Daniel.” Pepper pasted a bright smile on her face as she took a seat beside the young man and smoothed her pink-and-white striped dress.
She placed her papers containing Parr’s drawing of the prosthetic device on the floor. It had been a number of weeks since Daniel’s amputation, and according to Elijah, the stump was healing well. Yet Daniel showed no interest in getting out of bed, or using the crutches, which were propped up beside it. Instead, his body was gaunt, his skin slightly gray, and his lovely dark hair had lost its luster. Pepper realized he was having trouble adjusting to his new body, and she wanted to help change his outlook on life. She hoped she hadn’t been wrong, that he had some interest in trying the prosthetic device. But she’d never know unless she broached the subject with him.
“What’s so good about the afternoon, lass? From where I’m lying, it’s the same as yesterday. I made a mistake, allowing the doctor to saw off me leg. I should have just been left to die from me injuries. At least that would have been better.”
“Such nonsense you’re talking.”
He stared at her for a long minute, then jerked the covers from over his body, and stared at his stump. “’Tis not nonsense. I’m a farmer who can’t stand on me own two feet, since I don’t have two feet anymore. How can I grow enough food to even feed meself, much less a wife and children? Not that any woman would come close to me now.” His gaze moved back to her.
“I’m close to you, am I not?” She brushed his black hair from his eyes. “Let me prop you up into a sitting position, since I have something to share with you.”
She placed pillows behind him and then helped him scoot his body up so he could sit. “What would it take to change your outlook on life a bit?”
“Can you reattach me leg?”
Pepper smiled again, and this time she didn’t have to force it. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
She showed him the drawing of the prosthesis and explained how it worked. “And you can get this contraption for me?”
“Yes, I’ll have my brother-in-law make it, and we’ll see how you do with it. There have been prosthetic devices in existence for a number of years, but they are fairly clumsy affairs. I showed a couple pictures of them to Parr, and he came up with his own design, which I’ve already shared with Colonel Williams. He thinks it’s worth a try. It may not work, so I don’t want you to get your hopes up yet, but it might be exactly the device we need to help you stand again.”
Daniel stared at the papers for a long second, and his finger ran over the drawing. “Why me, though? There have been many men who’ve lost a leg.”
“Because I have a feeling, even with all the padding and wool Parr can build into the
device, it’s going to cause you excruciating pain when you first stand. Not many men could endure it, so I chose the one I thought would be the strongest. The one who has so much to gain by again standing.”
Daniel smiled at her, and Pepper drew in a breath. It was the first smile Daniel had given her since his operation. It might have been a small step, but she’d take it.
Becky loves to write about two people finding each other and falling in love, amid the backdrop of a great setting, be it present day middle America or on a covered wagon headed west in the 1850s. She has a degree is in English and Journalism and lives in an eclectic college town in Ohio with a puppy-mill rescue dog, Mary.
FROM PEGLEG TO PROSTHETICS!I had the opportunity to learn about prosthetic devices while doing research for A Widow’s Salvation, which is a story about how the (American) Civil War affected the everyday person. While we’ve all heard stories about Pegleg Pete and Captain Hook and their prosthetics, I had no idea such devices had been uncovered as far back at 950 BC! Obviously, these were crude devices at best. It wasn’t until the Civil War in the 1860s that advances in prosthetics began to emerge.
The huge number of amputations that were being done to save lives of the soldiers forced America to focus on the betterment of prosthetic devices for their soldiers. James Hanger was one of the first amputees of this war and took it upon himself to fashion a limb from whittled barrel staves. This crude device was transformed and advancements in the way prosthetics fit and worked happened in rapid succession due to the Civil War.
When I see the men and women who have lost legs due to war or other tragedy using today’s high-tech computerized prosthetics to run marathons, I am in awe of how far this industry has come.
Oscar Pistorius 'blade runner'
A WIDOW'S SALVATIONIn 1862 America, the Civil War has raged for twelve months. Pepper Fitzpatrick Brown’s heart was broken when her husband died with the first volley at Manassas. Now she’s a widow raising three young boys and plans to honor his sacrifice by volunteering at the army hospital.
When Colonel Elijah Williams can grab a few minutes to nap between his duties as head surgeon at MacDougall Army Hospital in the Bronx, his sleep is invaded with nightmares of the atrocities he’s seen. His life has narrowed to nothing but the bloody war … until he meets Pepper Brown. But her father is concerned Elijah doesn’t have the best intentions, and Pepper is fearful of loving and losing again.
It’s hard to find happiness in a war-torn United States, but these two stand a fighting chance—if they can save what’s left of their hearts.
TO BUY click HERE
Read an excerpt:
“Good afternoon, Daniel.” Pepper pasted a bright smile on her face as she took a seat beside the young man and smoothed her pink-and-white striped dress.
She placed her papers containing Parr’s drawing of the prosthetic device on the floor. It had been a number of weeks since Daniel’s amputation, and according to Elijah, the stump was healing well. Yet Daniel showed no interest in getting out of bed, or using the crutches, which were propped up beside it. Instead, his body was gaunt, his skin slightly gray, and his lovely dark hair had lost its luster. Pepper realized he was having trouble adjusting to his new body, and she wanted to help change his outlook on life. She hoped she hadn’t been wrong, that he had some interest in trying the prosthetic device. But she’d never know unless she broached the subject with him.
“What’s so good about the afternoon, lass? From where I’m lying, it’s the same as yesterday. I made a mistake, allowing the doctor to saw off me leg. I should have just been left to die from me injuries. At least that would have been better.”
“Such nonsense you’re talking.”
He stared at her for a long minute, then jerked the covers from over his body, and stared at his stump. “’Tis not nonsense. I’m a farmer who can’t stand on me own two feet, since I don’t have two feet anymore. How can I grow enough food to even feed meself, much less a wife and children? Not that any woman would come close to me now.” His gaze moved back to her.
“I’m close to you, am I not?” She brushed his black hair from his eyes. “Let me prop you up into a sitting position, since I have something to share with you.”
She placed pillows behind him and then helped him scoot his body up so he could sit. “What would it take to change your outlook on life a bit?”
“Can you reattach me leg?”
Pepper smiled again, and this time she didn’t have to force it. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
She showed him the drawing of the prosthesis and explained how it worked. “And you can get this contraption for me?”
“Yes, I’ll have my brother-in-law make it, and we’ll see how you do with it. There have been prosthetic devices in existence for a number of years, but they are fairly clumsy affairs. I showed a couple pictures of them to Parr, and he came up with his own design, which I’ve already shared with Colonel Williams. He thinks it’s worth a try. It may not work, so I don’t want you to get your hopes up yet, but it might be exactly the device we need to help you stand again.”
Daniel stared at the papers for a long second, and his finger ran over the drawing. “Why me, though? There have been many men who’ve lost a leg.”
“Because I have a feeling, even with all the padding and wool Parr can build into the
device, it’s going to cause you excruciating pain when you first stand. Not many men could endure it, so I chose the one I thought would be the strongest. The one who has so much to gain by again standing.”
Daniel smiled at her, and Pepper drew in a breath. It was the first smile Daniel had given her since his operation. It might have been a small step, but she’d take it.
September 10, 2015
Walking Worcester with my Imaginary Friends
The 3rd September marked the 364th anniversary of the Battle of Worcester, the defining event of the Guardians of the Crown series which begins with the battle itself (BY THE SWORD).
Worcester CathedralMy family has had a long, long association with Worcester, most notably boasting a High Sheriff of Worcester (my great grandfather) and a well respected MP and County Councillor (my grandfather) and my father served under the colours of the now defunct Worcestershire Regiment.
In May this year I returned (or, in a sense, went home) - on a canal boat (a whole other story!). My last visit to Worcester had been some twenty plus years ago when I was researching a little story I was writing about the Battle of Worcester. That little story became BY THE SWORD... which flowed on to THE KING'S MAN and on to Book 3, EXILES' RETURN (which comes out next February). I wanted to write about a group of friends/comrades and what this seminal battle of the English Civil War meant to them and their families.
Our canal boat traverses the Sidbury Lock - The Commandery on the left
We moored our canal boat below the Sidbury Lock within spitting distance of The Commandery and the site of what was once the Sidbury Gate through the walls of the old city (now long since gone). Having an afternoon free, I abandoned my travelling companions and stepped down on to the tow path of the canal (which had not been there in 1651). They were waiting for me - Jonathan Thornton, Giles Longley, Kit Lovell and his brother Daniel, the Guardians of Crown, my companions from the past and they would be my guides for the afternoon.
AS outside The Commandery We began with The Commandery (that was its name long before the events of 1651). In its past it had been a merchant's house, a hospital and in 1651 became the Headquarters for Charles II.(Jonathan) attended the meetings at the Commandery and concluded the house had been wrongly named. He saw precious little evidence of command taking place within its walls...In the endless councils that took place in the hall the young King found himself assailed from all sides by conflicting advice. (BY THE SWORD)
From The Commandery we set off up the hill to Fort Royal where a royalist battery had been established to defend the approach to Worcester along the Sidbury road. I won't go into the details of the battle itself (I've written about it elsewhere...click HERE). Suffice to say that while the royalists held Fort Royal, Cromwell had taken Red Hill and Perry Hill. The king himself led an attack on Red Hill but was driven back to the city. Fort Royal fell, the royalist defenders slaughtered to a man and the guns turned on the city itself.
My American readers may be interested to know that it was on this hill that an oak tree was planted in commemoration of a visit by Thomas Jefferson who is quoted as reminding all Englishmen that it was at Worcester that the concept of Liberty was fought for... you can read his quote on the plaque below...
My companions led me back down the hill toward Sidbury Gate... The Parliament guns had been brought to bear on the gate, turning the retreat into
wholesale slaughter. Amidst the screaming of man and beast, the carnage of blood and guts and with shot pounding into the walls and the city, the King managed to get back through the gate. Jonathan followed through the confusion, scrambling over an overturned oxen cart to reach his King. (BY THE SWORD)
No trace of the gate or walls remain today (destroyed for the building of the canal in the 1760s), just one small plaque on a wall marks its existence. We turned into the city and down one of the last remaining authentic city streets - Friar Street (curse those 70s redevelopments!). Still lined with half timbered houses, it is only here one can still get a feeling for 17th century Worcester.Wilmot pulled at Jonathan’s arm and they both ran up Friar Street, toward the King’s lodging. Jonathan took only one look back to see Giles, fighting like a virago, a small defence against the mass of red-coated soldiers who now flooded into the city from all gates except one: St Martin’s Gate stood close by the King’s lodging and remained as yet unbreached. (BY THE SWORD)
Friar StreetIt was here in Friar Street that Jonathan, Giles, Kit and Daniel lodged in a house that may have looked a little like Greyfriars (now a National Trust property). Here they played cards on the night before the battle. Another evening at the Commandery had ended in bickering and Jonathan trudged wearily back up Friar Street to his billet ... In the downstairs parlour of the large, half-timbered house, Giles played cards with Kit Lovell, who had recently rejoined them. They were both fiendish card players, with a tendency to cheat, and Jonathan declined their invitation to join them. (BY THE SWORD)
The parlour of Greyfriars where the Guardians played cards on the night before the battle... maybe...Further up Friar Street we came to the building now known as The Charles II house (and rather ignomiously - a pie shop) which
had been the King's Lodgings and from which he escaped.They found the King within his lodgings, watching uncomprehendingly as Buckingham burned papers on a hastily lit fire.‘We must go, Your Majesty,’ Wilmot said.The King looked up at his old friend and advisor. ‘Leslie will come,’ he insisted. ‘We will rally again.’‘No, Your Majesty,’ Buckingham spoke. ‘It’s too late. Leslie has failed us, Hamilton is fallen. We must away while we still have breath in our bodies.’The noise of the fighting, drawing closer up the street, brought the King to his feet. With the Parliament’s soldiers at the front door of the house, the King and his party left by the back. Taking the nearest horses they fled, at a hard gallop, through St Martin’s Gate, the gate that led the way to the north. (BY THE SWORD)
Here we parted company, my imaginary friends returning to the past, and I trudged back through the streets of Worcester to meet my real friends at the Worcester Porcelain museum (in what had been a thriving factory on my last visit).
ABOUT THE KING’S MAN
The second in a tantalising trilogy from award-winning author Alison Stuart, about warriors, the wounds they carry, and the women that help them heal.
London 1654: Kit Lovell is one of the King’s men, a disillusioned Royalist who passes his time cheating at cards, living off his wealthy and attractive mistress, and plotting the death of Oliver Cromwell.
Penniless and friendless, Thamsine Granville has lost everything. Terrified, in pain, and alone, she hurls a piece of brick at the coach of Oliver Cromwell, and earns herself an immediate death sentence. Only the quick thinking of a stranger saves her.
Far from the bored, benevolent rescuer that he seems, Kit plunges Thamsine into his world of espionage and betrayal – a world that has no room for falling in love.
Torn between Thamsine and loyalty to his master and King, Kit’s carefully constructed web of lies begins to unravel. He must make one last desperate gamble – the cost of which might be his life.
Buy THE KING'S MAN on KOBO, NOOK, iBooks and AMAZON(Australian readers can still buy THE KING’S MAN for just 99c on AMAZON AUSTRALIA and the first book in the series, BY THE SWORD is currently free)
DON’T FORGET TO ENTER THE RAFFLECOPTER CONTEST: Click HERE (The prize is a kindle Ereader)
(And if you would like a smile, THE KING’S MAN is featured in an ABC Art Nation program called ‘My Secret Art Life’... Australian readers can view it on my website... click HERE)
Worcester CathedralMy family has had a long, long association with Worcester, most notably boasting a High Sheriff of Worcester (my great grandfather) and a well respected MP and County Councillor (my grandfather) and my father served under the colours of the now defunct Worcestershire Regiment. In May this year I returned (or, in a sense, went home) - on a canal boat (a whole other story!). My last visit to Worcester had been some twenty plus years ago when I was researching a little story I was writing about the Battle of Worcester. That little story became BY THE SWORD... which flowed on to THE KING'S MAN and on to Book 3, EXILES' RETURN (which comes out next February). I wanted to write about a group of friends/comrades and what this seminal battle of the English Civil War meant to them and their families.
Our canal boat traverses the Sidbury Lock - The Commandery on the leftWe moored our canal boat below the Sidbury Lock within spitting distance of The Commandery and the site of what was once the Sidbury Gate through the walls of the old city (now long since gone). Having an afternoon free, I abandoned my travelling companions and stepped down on to the tow path of the canal (which had not been there in 1651). They were waiting for me - Jonathan Thornton, Giles Longley, Kit Lovell and his brother Daniel, the Guardians of Crown, my companions from the past and they would be my guides for the afternoon.
AS outside The Commandery We began with The Commandery (that was its name long before the events of 1651). In its past it had been a merchant's house, a hospital and in 1651 became the Headquarters for Charles II.(Jonathan) attended the meetings at the Commandery and concluded the house had been wrongly named. He saw precious little evidence of command taking place within its walls...In the endless councils that took place in the hall the young King found himself assailed from all sides by conflicting advice. (BY THE SWORD)
From The Commandery we set off up the hill to Fort Royal where a royalist battery had been established to defend the approach to Worcester along the Sidbury road. I won't go into the details of the battle itself (I've written about it elsewhere...click HERE). Suffice to say that while the royalists held Fort Royal, Cromwell had taken Red Hill and Perry Hill. The king himself led an attack on Red Hill but was driven back to the city. Fort Royal fell, the royalist defenders slaughtered to a man and the guns turned on the city itself.
My American readers may be interested to know that it was on this hill that an oak tree was planted in commemoration of a visit by Thomas Jefferson who is quoted as reminding all Englishmen that it was at Worcester that the concept of Liberty was fought for... you can read his quote on the plaque below...
My companions led me back down the hill toward Sidbury Gate... The Parliament guns had been brought to bear on the gate, turning the retreat into
wholesale slaughter. Amidst the screaming of man and beast, the carnage of blood and guts and with shot pounding into the walls and the city, the King managed to get back through the gate. Jonathan followed through the confusion, scrambling over an overturned oxen cart to reach his King. (BY THE SWORD)
No trace of the gate or walls remain today (destroyed for the building of the canal in the 1760s), just one small plaque on a wall marks its existence. We turned into the city and down one of the last remaining authentic city streets - Friar Street (curse those 70s redevelopments!). Still lined with half timbered houses, it is only here one can still get a feeling for 17th century Worcester.Wilmot pulled at Jonathan’s arm and they both ran up Friar Street, toward the King’s lodging. Jonathan took only one look back to see Giles, fighting like a virago, a small defence against the mass of red-coated soldiers who now flooded into the city from all gates except one: St Martin’s Gate stood close by the King’s lodging and remained as yet unbreached. (BY THE SWORD)
Friar StreetIt was here in Friar Street that Jonathan, Giles, Kit and Daniel lodged in a house that may have looked a little like Greyfriars (now a National Trust property). Here they played cards on the night before the battle. Another evening at the Commandery had ended in bickering and Jonathan trudged wearily back up Friar Street to his billet ... In the downstairs parlour of the large, half-timbered house, Giles played cards with Kit Lovell, who had recently rejoined them. They were both fiendish card players, with a tendency to cheat, and Jonathan declined their invitation to join them. (BY THE SWORD)
The parlour of Greyfriars where the Guardians played cards on the night before the battle... maybe...Further up Friar Street we came to the building now known as The Charles II house (and rather ignomiously - a pie shop) which
had been the King's Lodgings and from which he escaped.They found the King within his lodgings, watching uncomprehendingly as Buckingham burned papers on a hastily lit fire.‘We must go, Your Majesty,’ Wilmot said.The King looked up at his old friend and advisor. ‘Leslie will come,’ he insisted. ‘We will rally again.’‘No, Your Majesty,’ Buckingham spoke. ‘It’s too late. Leslie has failed us, Hamilton is fallen. We must away while we still have breath in our bodies.’The noise of the fighting, drawing closer up the street, brought the King to his feet. With the Parliament’s soldiers at the front door of the house, the King and his party left by the back. Taking the nearest horses they fled, at a hard gallop, through St Martin’s Gate, the gate that led the way to the north. (BY THE SWORD)
Here we parted company, my imaginary friends returning to the past, and I trudged back through the streets of Worcester to meet my real friends at the Worcester Porcelain museum (in what had been a thriving factory on my last visit).
ABOUT THE KING’S MAN
The second in a tantalising trilogy from award-winning author Alison Stuart, about warriors, the wounds they carry, and the women that help them heal.
London 1654: Kit Lovell is one of the King’s men, a disillusioned Royalist who passes his time cheating at cards, living off his wealthy and attractive mistress, and plotting the death of Oliver Cromwell.
Penniless and friendless, Thamsine Granville has lost everything. Terrified, in pain, and alone, she hurls a piece of brick at the coach of Oliver Cromwell, and earns herself an immediate death sentence. Only the quick thinking of a stranger saves her.
Far from the bored, benevolent rescuer that he seems, Kit plunges Thamsine into his world of espionage and betrayal – a world that has no room for falling in love.
Torn between Thamsine and loyalty to his master and King, Kit’s carefully constructed web of lies begins to unravel. He must make one last desperate gamble – the cost of which might be his life.
Buy THE KING'S MAN on KOBO, NOOK, iBooks and AMAZON(Australian readers can still buy THE KING’S MAN for just 99c on AMAZON AUSTRALIA and the first book in the series, BY THE SWORD is currently free)
DON’T FORGET TO ENTER THE RAFFLECOPTER CONTEST: Click HERE (The prize is a kindle Ereader)
(And if you would like a smile, THE KING’S MAN is featured in an ABC Art Nation program called ‘My Secret Art Life’... Australian readers can view it on my website... click HERE)
September 7, 2015
Release Day for THE KING'S MAN: Meet Kit Lovell...
THE KING'S MAN releases today (8 September) - Book 2 in the Guardians of the Crown series.
It is now February 1654- three long years since the events that took place in Book 1 (BY THE SWORD).
In that story readers first met a friend of Jonathan Thornton’s, KIT LOVELL, in a filthy inn in Perth (Scotland).(Jonathan) opened the door the tapster indicated. Two men sat at a rickety table playing cards; Giles Longley and another English officer, Kit Lovell. A half-dressed drab, no doubt picked out of the gutters of Perth, leaned on Lovell’s shoulder, apparently engaged in nibbling his ear. Another girl sprawled on Giles’ lap, twirling a lock of his hair in her fingers.Giles had his back to the door so it was Kit who looked up, his eyes widening. ‘Jesus Christ!’ he swore. Jonathan forced a wry smile. ‘Not quite.’
On the eve of the Battle of Worcester (3 September 1651), a card game takes place… in which the stakes are the lives of the men who must face battle the next day. They are joined by Kit’s young brother, Daniel…Lovell cast his brother a glance that was at once both reproving and affectionate.‘He followed me,’ Lovell replied. ‘His mother will hold me responsible if anything happens to him and, God knows, I fear her wrath more than Cromwell, but what could I do?’‘This may be my last chance,’ the boy said returning his brother’s look with a furrowed brow.‘Your last chance for what?’ Giles asked. ‘Getting yourself killed?’‘My last chance to return the King to the throne where he belongs,’ Daniel said, his eyes shining with an idealism that had long since escaped Jonathan.Lovell laid his cards down and fixed his brother with a hard look. ‘You don’t see do you?’ he said. ‘You’re the last of us with any hope. Look at us...’ He waved his hand at the men seated around the table. ‘If we lose this battle, what future do we have? But you...you can still make something of your life.’
The next day, battle is joined and the King’s cause is lost even before the fighting begins. In the midst of the battle we encounter Kit Lovell for the last time… 'Daniel!’Hearing Kit Lovell’s voice, Jonathan turned and saw his friend standing in the path of a Parliament trooper who bore down on him from behind with his sword upraised. Of Lovell’s brother there was no sign.Summoning all his energy, Jonathan managed to reach Lovell and push him aside just as the trooper slashed down with his sword. The razor-sharp blade caught Jonathan across the back of his hand, slashing through the heavy leather of his glove. Lovell regained his feet and clutched at Jonathan’s sleeve. ‘I can’t find Daniel.’Before Jonathan could respond, the trooper turned, pulling his pistol from his belt. He fired and Kit crumpled to the groundSeizing a primed pistol from a dead Scot at his feet, Jonathan fired. The trooper’s face exploded in mass of blood and the man toppled, screaming, from his horse. Jonathan stooped down to see to Lovell, who had taken the pistol ball to the leg and now lay helpless on the trampled grass, grimacing in agony.Giles grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the fallen man.‘Thornton, there’s no time. We must find the King and get back to the city,’ Giles yelled above the noise.‘Go,’ Lovell said between gritted teeth. ‘Save the King.’
So… Kit Lovell, the King's man, fell wounded at the Battle of Worcester.
How did he survive and what brings him to London in 1654, at the height of Cromwell’s Protectorate?
The inveterate gambler, Kit is playing a dangerous game and the stakes are a life… He did not wager on falling in love...
Buy THE KING'S MAN on KOBO, NOOK, iBooks and AMAZON
It is now February 1654- three long years since the events that took place in Book 1 (BY THE SWORD).
In that story readers first met a friend of Jonathan Thornton’s, KIT LOVELL, in a filthy inn in Perth (Scotland).(Jonathan) opened the door the tapster indicated. Two men sat at a rickety table playing cards; Giles Longley and another English officer, Kit Lovell. A half-dressed drab, no doubt picked out of the gutters of Perth, leaned on Lovell’s shoulder, apparently engaged in nibbling his ear. Another girl sprawled on Giles’ lap, twirling a lock of his hair in her fingers.Giles had his back to the door so it was Kit who looked up, his eyes widening. ‘Jesus Christ!’ he swore. Jonathan forced a wry smile. ‘Not quite.’
On the eve of the Battle of Worcester (3 September 1651), a card game takes place… in which the stakes are the lives of the men who must face battle the next day. They are joined by Kit’s young brother, Daniel…Lovell cast his brother a glance that was at once both reproving and affectionate.‘He followed me,’ Lovell replied. ‘His mother will hold me responsible if anything happens to him and, God knows, I fear her wrath more than Cromwell, but what could I do?’‘This may be my last chance,’ the boy said returning his brother’s look with a furrowed brow.‘Your last chance for what?’ Giles asked. ‘Getting yourself killed?’‘My last chance to return the King to the throne where he belongs,’ Daniel said, his eyes shining with an idealism that had long since escaped Jonathan.Lovell laid his cards down and fixed his brother with a hard look. ‘You don’t see do you?’ he said. ‘You’re the last of us with any hope. Look at us...’ He waved his hand at the men seated around the table. ‘If we lose this battle, what future do we have? But you...you can still make something of your life.’
The next day, battle is joined and the King’s cause is lost even before the fighting begins. In the midst of the battle we encounter Kit Lovell for the last time… 'Daniel!’Hearing Kit Lovell’s voice, Jonathan turned and saw his friend standing in the path of a Parliament trooper who bore down on him from behind with his sword upraised. Of Lovell’s brother there was no sign.Summoning all his energy, Jonathan managed to reach Lovell and push him aside just as the trooper slashed down with his sword. The razor-sharp blade caught Jonathan across the back of his hand, slashing through the heavy leather of his glove. Lovell regained his feet and clutched at Jonathan’s sleeve. ‘I can’t find Daniel.’Before Jonathan could respond, the trooper turned, pulling his pistol from his belt. He fired and Kit crumpled to the groundSeizing a primed pistol from a dead Scot at his feet, Jonathan fired. The trooper’s face exploded in mass of blood and the man toppled, screaming, from his horse. Jonathan stooped down to see to Lovell, who had taken the pistol ball to the leg and now lay helpless on the trampled grass, grimacing in agony.Giles grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the fallen man.‘Thornton, there’s no time. We must find the King and get back to the city,’ Giles yelled above the noise.‘Go,’ Lovell said between gritted teeth. ‘Save the King.’
So… Kit Lovell, the King's man, fell wounded at the Battle of Worcester.
How did he survive and what brings him to London in 1654, at the height of Cromwell’s Protectorate?
The inveterate gambler, Kit is playing a dangerous game and the stakes are a life… He did not wager on falling in love...
Buy THE KING'S MAN on KOBO, NOOK, iBooks and AMAZON
To celebrate the launch of THE KING'S MAN, I will be running a RAFFLECOPTER CONTEST with the prize of a Kindle E-reader from now until the end of October.
Enter HERE:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
September 3, 2015
The Duke's Daughter - Guest poster Sasha Cottman
THE DUKE'S DAUGHTER is the third in Sasha Cottman's Regency 'Duke of Strathmore' series. It is a challenge for any author to find something new and different about this period, which is why I particularly like Sasha's stories.
The stories are about real people (admittedly of 'the ton') - the heroes and heroines are of the right age to be courting couples of this period and most importantly, for me anyway, they come from families who love them. To read most regencies you would think the characters were immaculate conceptions, untramelled by inconvenient parents or siblings. In Sasha's books, there are mothers and fathers who may not always agree with the way their offsring are erring and are not above teaching them the occasional life lesson, but at the end of the story you are left with the feeling that Christmas at the Duke of Strathmore's estates would be rowdy, happy, family times.
This story revolves around the Strathmore daughter, Lucy, sister to the heroes of Book 1 and 2. We have met Lucy in the preceding two stories (LETTER FROM A RAKE and AN UNSUITABLE MATCH) and we are familiar with her interfering ways. With both her errant brothers happily settled it is Lucy's turn to find love...
THE DUKE'S DAUGHTER
Honest and impetuous Lady Lucy Radley is a breath of fresh air, guiding him through the season and helping him to avoid any traps. So when Avery is left with little option but to marry Lucy, he can't help but feel he's been manipulated. Nor can he shake the feeling that a duke's daughter should be out of his reach.
From the wildly beautiful Scottish Highlands to the elegant soirees of Paris, Avery and Lucy go on a journey that is full of surprises for them both. But will their feelings for each other be strong enough to overcome the circumstances of their marriage and survive the ghosts of Avery's past?
Read an excerpt from THE DUKE'S DAUGHTER....
Chapter OneBy every measure of her own behaviour, Lady Lucy Radley knew this was the worst.'You reckless fool,' she muttered under her breath as she headed back inside and into the grand ballroom.The room was a crush of London's social elite. Every few steps she had to stop and make small talk with friends or acquaintances. A comment here and there about someone's gown or promising a social call made for slow going. Finally she spied her cousin, Eve. She fixed a smile to her face as Eve approached.'Where have you been, Lucy? I've been searching everywhere for you.''I was just outside admiring the flowers on the terrace.'Eve frowned, but the lie held.Another night, another ball in one of London's high-society homes. In one respect Lucy would be happy when the London social season ended in a few weeks; then she would be free to travel to her family home in Scotland and go tramping across the valleys and mountain paths, the chill wind ruffling her hair.
She puffed out her cheeks. With the impending close of the season came an overwhelming sense of failure. Her two older brothers, David and Alex, had taken wives. Perfect, love-filled unions with delightful girls, each of whom Lucy was happy to now call sister.Her newest sister-in-law, Earl Langham's daughter Clarice, was already in a delicate condition, and Lucy suspected it was only a matter of time before her brother Alex and his wife Millie shared some good news.For herself, this season had been an unmitigated disaster on the husband-hunting front. The pickings were slim at best. Having refused both an earl and a viscount the previous season, she suspected other suitable gentlemen now viewed her as too fussy. No gentleman worth his boots wanted a difficult wife. Only the usual group of fortune-hunters, intent on getting their hands on her substantial dowry, were lining up at this stage of the season to ask her to dance. Maintaining her pride as the daughter of a duke, she refused them all.Somewhere in the collective gentry of England there must be a man worthy of her love. She just had to find him.What a mess.'You are keeping something from me,' Eve said, poking a finger gently into Lucy's arm.Lucy shook her head. 'It's nothing. I suspect I am suffering from a touch of ennui. These balls all begin to look the same after a while. All the same people, sharing the same gossip.''Oh dear, and I thought I was having a bad day,' Eve replied.'Sorry, I was being selfish. You are the one who needs a friend to cheer her up,' Lucy replied. She kissed her cousin gently on the cheek.Eve's brother William had left London earlier that day to return to his home in Paris, and she knew her cousin was taking his departure hard.'Yes, well, I knew I could sit at home and cry, or I could put on a happy face and try to find something to smile about,' Eve replied.Eve's father had tried without success to convince his son to return permanently to England. With the war now over and Napoleon toppled from power, everyone expected William Saunders to come home immediately, but it had taken two years for him to make the journey back to London.'Perhaps once he gets back to France and starts to miss us all again, he shall have a change of heart,' Lucy said.
'One can only hope. Now, let's go and find a nice quiet spot and you can tell me what you were really doing out in the garden. Charles Ashton came in the door not a minute before you, and he had a face like thunder. As I happened to see the two of you head out into the garden at the same time a little while ago, I doubt Charles' foul temper was because he found the flowers not to his liking,' Eve replied.
BUY THE DUKE'S DAUGHTER...Amazon.Com Amazon Australia Amazon UK iTunes Googleplay Kobo JBHiFi
About Sasha Cottman...
Sasha Cottman’s debut novel was published in 2013. Letter from a Rake, was a Ruby finalist in 2014 and won the Book Junkies Choice Award in 2014.Her books are centred on the theme of love, honour and family. Her current book series, The Duke of Strathmore, covers the story of the love lives of a group of siblings and their cousins.Sasha’s second novel An Unsuitable Match, was a four time ARRA finalist in 2015. The third book in the Duke of Strathmore series, The Duke’s Daughter, was released in August 2015.Sasha divides her time between the city of Melbourne, Australia and her family beach retreat at Torquay. She and her family have discovered all the places the family cat disappears to whenever it realises they are about to head home on a Sunday night.Before accidentally enrolling in a course for romance writers a number of years ago, she had always had a love of history. While her writing career may appear at odds with her professional career as a finance executive, it means she can spot a poorly written company board report at twenty feet.A self-confessed ‘hopeless’ cook, she writes a blog, In the Regency Kitchen, where she recreates recipes from the Regency/Georgian era. Her family have so far managed to survive being the test subjects of her culinary efforts. The little time she has left during the week and weekends is spent trying to beat her husband at Fitbit challenges and trying to find where the pair to that sock really went. Sasha is published by Destiny Romance a digital imprint of Penguin Random House.
Connect with Sasha at... http://www.sashacottman.com, Twitter and Facebook For her In the Regency Kitchen Blog where she attempts to recreate Regency Recipes with mixed success http://www.sashacottman.com
The stories are about real people (admittedly of 'the ton') - the heroes and heroines are of the right age to be courting couples of this period and most importantly, for me anyway, they come from families who love them. To read most regencies you would think the characters were immaculate conceptions, untramelled by inconvenient parents or siblings. In Sasha's books, there are mothers and fathers who may not always agree with the way their offsring are erring and are not above teaching them the occasional life lesson, but at the end of the story you are left with the feeling that Christmas at the Duke of Strathmore's estates would be rowdy, happy, family times.
This story revolves around the Strathmore daughter, Lucy, sister to the heroes of Book 1 and 2. We have met Lucy in the preceding two stories (LETTER FROM A RAKE and AN UNSUITABLE MATCH) and we are familiar with her interfering ways. With both her errant brothers happily settled it is Lucy's turn to find love...
THE DUKE'S DAUGHTER
Honest and impetuous Lady Lucy Radley is a breath of fresh air, guiding him through the season and helping him to avoid any traps. So when Avery is left with little option but to marry Lucy, he can't help but feel he's been manipulated. Nor can he shake the feeling that a duke's daughter should be out of his reach.
From the wildly beautiful Scottish Highlands to the elegant soirees of Paris, Avery and Lucy go on a journey that is full of surprises for them both. But will their feelings for each other be strong enough to overcome the circumstances of their marriage and survive the ghosts of Avery's past?
Read an excerpt from THE DUKE'S DAUGHTER....
Chapter OneBy every measure of her own behaviour, Lady Lucy Radley knew this was the worst.'You reckless fool,' she muttered under her breath as she headed back inside and into the grand ballroom.The room was a crush of London's social elite. Every few steps she had to stop and make small talk with friends or acquaintances. A comment here and there about someone's gown or promising a social call made for slow going. Finally she spied her cousin, Eve. She fixed a smile to her face as Eve approached.'Where have you been, Lucy? I've been searching everywhere for you.''I was just outside admiring the flowers on the terrace.'Eve frowned, but the lie held.Another night, another ball in one of London's high-society homes. In one respect Lucy would be happy when the London social season ended in a few weeks; then she would be free to travel to her family home in Scotland and go tramping across the valleys and mountain paths, the chill wind ruffling her hair.
She puffed out her cheeks. With the impending close of the season came an overwhelming sense of failure. Her two older brothers, David and Alex, had taken wives. Perfect, love-filled unions with delightful girls, each of whom Lucy was happy to now call sister.Her newest sister-in-law, Earl Langham's daughter Clarice, was already in a delicate condition, and Lucy suspected it was only a matter of time before her brother Alex and his wife Millie shared some good news.For herself, this season had been an unmitigated disaster on the husband-hunting front. The pickings were slim at best. Having refused both an earl and a viscount the previous season, she suspected other suitable gentlemen now viewed her as too fussy. No gentleman worth his boots wanted a difficult wife. Only the usual group of fortune-hunters, intent on getting their hands on her substantial dowry, were lining up at this stage of the season to ask her to dance. Maintaining her pride as the daughter of a duke, she refused them all.Somewhere in the collective gentry of England there must be a man worthy of her love. She just had to find him.What a mess.'You are keeping something from me,' Eve said, poking a finger gently into Lucy's arm.Lucy shook her head. 'It's nothing. I suspect I am suffering from a touch of ennui. These balls all begin to look the same after a while. All the same people, sharing the same gossip.''Oh dear, and I thought I was having a bad day,' Eve replied.'Sorry, I was being selfish. You are the one who needs a friend to cheer her up,' Lucy replied. She kissed her cousin gently on the cheek.Eve's brother William had left London earlier that day to return to his home in Paris, and she knew her cousin was taking his departure hard.'Yes, well, I knew I could sit at home and cry, or I could put on a happy face and try to find something to smile about,' Eve replied.Eve's father had tried without success to convince his son to return permanently to England. With the war now over and Napoleon toppled from power, everyone expected William Saunders to come home immediately, but it had taken two years for him to make the journey back to London.'Perhaps once he gets back to France and starts to miss us all again, he shall have a change of heart,' Lucy said.
'One can only hope. Now, let's go and find a nice quiet spot and you can tell me what you were really doing out in the garden. Charles Ashton came in the door not a minute before you, and he had a face like thunder. As I happened to see the two of you head out into the garden at the same time a little while ago, I doubt Charles' foul temper was because he found the flowers not to his liking,' Eve replied.
BUY THE DUKE'S DAUGHTER...Amazon.Com Amazon Australia Amazon UK iTunes Googleplay Kobo JBHiFi
About Sasha Cottman...
Sasha Cottman’s debut novel was published in 2013. Letter from a Rake, was a Ruby finalist in 2014 and won the Book Junkies Choice Award in 2014.Her books are centred on the theme of love, honour and family. Her current book series, The Duke of Strathmore, covers the story of the love lives of a group of siblings and their cousins.Sasha’s second novel An Unsuitable Match, was a four time ARRA finalist in 2015. The third book in the Duke of Strathmore series, The Duke’s Daughter, was released in August 2015.Sasha divides her time between the city of Melbourne, Australia and her family beach retreat at Torquay. She and her family have discovered all the places the family cat disappears to whenever it realises they are about to head home on a Sunday night.Before accidentally enrolling in a course for romance writers a number of years ago, she had always had a love of history. While her writing career may appear at odds with her professional career as a finance executive, it means she can spot a poorly written company board report at twenty feet.A self-confessed ‘hopeless’ cook, she writes a blog, In the Regency Kitchen, where she recreates recipes from the Regency/Georgian era. Her family have so far managed to survive being the test subjects of her culinary efforts. The little time she has left during the week and weekends is spent trying to beat her husband at Fitbit challenges and trying to find where the pair to that sock really went. Sasha is published by Destiny Romance a digital imprint of Penguin Random House.Connect with Sasha at... http://www.sashacottman.com, Twitter and Facebook For her In the Regency Kitchen Blog where she attempts to recreate Regency Recipes with mixed success http://www.sashacottman.com
August 29, 2015
Crime and Punishment for Beginners - D.B. TAIT
This time last weekend I was enjoying the company of 400 of my closest friends (and I do mean that literally) at the Romance Writers of Australia Conference. Among them was today's guest D.B. Tait.
In another life Tait is probably better known as erotic romance writer, Keziah HIll, but, like me, she is turning to a life of crime or at least, romantic suspense! Born and bred in Sydney Australia, DB Tait is a life long lover of books in all forms but crime fiction in particular. She worked for many years in the criminal justice system before deciding a tree change was need, so decamped to the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney. Now she writes and works part time in the community sector. Her first full length novel, Cold Deception, was published by Momentum, the digital first line of Pan Macmillan in March 2015. Her next novel Desperate Deception will be published in October 2015.
With her background in the criminal justice system, she is ideally placed to write crime fiction. Can't wait to read this one!
Crime and Punishment for Beginners
When writing a contemporary romantic suspense novel, world building is as important as it is for historical novels or science fiction. My second full length novel to be released in October 2015, Desperate Deception, is set in the Blue Mountains where I live and deals with themes relating to imprisonment and crime.
I worked for quite a number of years in the New South Wales prison system so I thought in writing this book, and the previous book in the series, Cold Deception, that I had already in my mind what I needed to bring the stories to life. I would just need to ransack my memories.
But memory is faulty. Parole details, sentencing details, what someone who has been arrested and denied bail might experience in the van on the way to jail, were all aspects of my story I had to re-remember and fact check. I’m lucky that I have contacts in the prison system still (no, not that kind of contact!) so some things were easier than others to get right.
I also have a couple of handy criminal lawyer friends who can ensure the legal details are correct.
But I needed to get the feel of a criminal court trial. I’m not sure if this falls into the category of a Fun Friday Fact, (since it’s a bit depressing) but an online resource that is useful for getting the flavour of a criminal court in NSW and how a Judge summarises a whole criminal case at the point of sentencing, is the Case Law site (previously Lawlink) https://www.caselaw.nsw.gov.auHere you can find Judges’ sentencing comments on a range of legal matters. These sentencing comments are often bleak and terrifying in their ordinariness - dry accounts of often awful and pathetic crimes.
They are a gold mine for a crime writer, fascinating in their detail of both the law and the circumstances of the crime. But has I read them, I feel like a voyeur into the lives, not only of the perpetrators, but of the destroyed victims, both living and dead. Some Judges, amid the dry discourse of case law, express poignant sympathy and regret for those left living, providing a glimpse of humanity in what is frequently a monolithic and cruel legal system.
These small shards of light in sentencing comments are the moments when my crime writer mind expands with possibilities for stories. I wonder about the victims, the perpetrators and what happened that brought them so disastrously together. What was going on in their minds and in the minds of those tasked with bringing the perpetrators to justice? Showing that, bring it to life, is the essence of a good crime story.
ABOUT COLD DECEPTIONSecrets, lies, deception. That’s what it takes to stay alive.
At 20, Julia Taylor went to prison for murdering a man who deserved it. Ten years later, she’s ready to put the past behind her and get on with her life. But someone won’t let her. Someone will do anything to drive Julia away, including murder.
As the body count rises, Julia is forced to accept the help of Dylan Andrews, a cop with dark secrets of his own. Unfortunately help has a cost. Dylan is digging into Julia’s past, uncovering secrets she is desperate to keep.
Julia must keep Dylan at a distance, or else risk her own safety, and the safety of everyone she loves …
Read an Excerpt from Cold DeceptionDylan Andrews led the struggling woman away from the Council building, across the square and to the wisteria covered picnic area. Grey and bare, the twisting vine hung down in a dense veil, providing minimal cover from prying eyes. Luckily few people were around on this freezing morning.“What’re you doing? Let me go!” Through her struggles Dylan could see she was still gasping for breath and shaking. The dark circles under her eyes stood out in stark relief against the complete whiteness of her skin. “Sit down,” he ordered. “You’re having a panic attack. Just sit there and breathe.”She collapsed on a bench and leaned against the stone picnic table. “I’ll be alright in a minute,” she said in a small voice.He stared down at her, irritated with himself and his reaction to her. Everything he knew about Julia Taylor indicated she wasn’t the run of the mill ex-crim, yet his hackles rose when he was around her. He knew he wouldn’t have to keep an eye on her like most crims first out of jail. She wasn’t a user and murderers had a low recidivism rate. Many people thought her crime was justified and there was certainly no doubt the pedophile priest was no loss to the world. That was the problem. She didn’t have the right to make that decision. No one did except a court of law. Sure, she’d been young and foolish, but he’d seen first hand what out of control vigilantism did. Some nights the vision of Dale Rowe’s dismembered limbs still visited him …. Her breathing returned to normal and some colour appeared in her face. No doubt about it, the Taylor women were stunners. Blossom was a carbon copy of her mother, but the woman in front of him was equally compelling. Instead of dark and petite like the other women in her family, Julia was taller with round curves, pale skin and chocolate-honeycomb hair. She pulled off her woollen beanie and strands of gold flashed in the filtered winter sun. Looking into her eyes he could get lost in all that riot of colour. What were they? Green, hazel, brown? Large eyes filled with pain and something else. Something he didn’t want to think too much about. Yearning. That’s what it was. Not surprising, he supposed. You don’t spend ten years in jail without yearning for freedom. But wanting was a double edged sword, as he knew only too well. What you wanted wasn’t always good for you. He sat in on the bench opposite her, aware his size intimidated her. That was okay in some situations but not in the midst of a panic attack. He watched her scrub her hands over her face and push back her mane of hair. Pulling her scarf free from around her neck she took in a deep breath and let it out. The skin of her neck was creamy and pale. He couldn’t help following that track of smoothness down toward her buttoned shirt. It was a little too tight and the first button pulled, stretching to open. He gave himself a good mental slap. Of all the women in the world to lust after, this was not the one. Apart from the fact she was just out of jail; was suffering from a bad transition to the real world and he might have to arrest her sister at some stage, there was something about her he knew was dangerous. Not dangerous for others, just for him. Under that tough persona he could see she was too vulnerable, too lost. “Do you want me to get you some water?” he said. She shook her head.“How often does it happen?”She finally met his eyes and he saw wariness had replaced yearning. Good. She needed to be on guard. “Just when I come across a crowd of people in an enclosed space. I thought I was over it. I guess I’m not.”“You had one yesterday when I bought Blossom home. There wasn’t a crowd there.”Hard bitterness leached into her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting to see a cop on my doorstep so soon after getting out. You reminded me of someone.” She wounded the scarf back around her neck and stood up. “Thanks for saving me,” she said with a wry smile. “It’s a first for me.”“Being saved?”“Being saved by a cop.” She crammed her beanie back on her head as the wind pricked up. “I’m okay now. Time for another go. This time I’m prepared.” She turned toward the Council Chambers.When she was half way across the square he called after her.“Who do I remind you of?”She stopped and turned back toward him.“The cop who punched me in the gut then pushed me into a filthy police cell the night I was arrested. He didn’t rape me. He’d done that already to the woman in the cell next to me. I was lucky, wasn’t I?” She shrugged. “He went on to big and better things, though. Quite a business man in more ways than one.”She lifted her hand and saluted him then went on her way. A chill, colder than the icy wind, settled into his bones as he watched her go.
In another life Tait is probably better known as erotic romance writer, Keziah HIll, but, like me, she is turning to a life of crime or at least, romantic suspense! Born and bred in Sydney Australia, DB Tait is a life long lover of books in all forms but crime fiction in particular. She worked for many years in the criminal justice system before deciding a tree change was need, so decamped to the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney. Now she writes and works part time in the community sector. Her first full length novel, Cold Deception, was published by Momentum, the digital first line of Pan Macmillan in March 2015. Her next novel Desperate Deception will be published in October 2015.
With her background in the criminal justice system, she is ideally placed to write crime fiction. Can't wait to read this one!
Crime and Punishment for Beginners
When writing a contemporary romantic suspense novel, world building is as important as it is for historical novels or science fiction. My second full length novel to be released in October 2015, Desperate Deception, is set in the Blue Mountains where I live and deals with themes relating to imprisonment and crime.
I worked for quite a number of years in the New South Wales prison system so I thought in writing this book, and the previous book in the series, Cold Deception, that I had already in my mind what I needed to bring the stories to life. I would just need to ransack my memories.
But memory is faulty. Parole details, sentencing details, what someone who has been arrested and denied bail might experience in the van on the way to jail, were all aspects of my story I had to re-remember and fact check. I’m lucky that I have contacts in the prison system still (no, not that kind of contact!) so some things were easier than others to get right.
I also have a couple of handy criminal lawyer friends who can ensure the legal details are correct.
But I needed to get the feel of a criminal court trial. I’m not sure if this falls into the category of a Fun Friday Fact, (since it’s a bit depressing) but an online resource that is useful for getting the flavour of a criminal court in NSW and how a Judge summarises a whole criminal case at the point of sentencing, is the Case Law site (previously Lawlink) https://www.caselaw.nsw.gov.auHere you can find Judges’ sentencing comments on a range of legal matters. These sentencing comments are often bleak and terrifying in their ordinariness - dry accounts of often awful and pathetic crimes.
They are a gold mine for a crime writer, fascinating in their detail of both the law and the circumstances of the crime. But has I read them, I feel like a voyeur into the lives, not only of the perpetrators, but of the destroyed victims, both living and dead. Some Judges, amid the dry discourse of case law, express poignant sympathy and regret for those left living, providing a glimpse of humanity in what is frequently a monolithic and cruel legal system.
These small shards of light in sentencing comments are the moments when my crime writer mind expands with possibilities for stories. I wonder about the victims, the perpetrators and what happened that brought them so disastrously together. What was going on in their minds and in the minds of those tasked with bringing the perpetrators to justice? Showing that, bring it to life, is the essence of a good crime story.
ABOUT COLD DECEPTIONSecrets, lies, deception. That’s what it takes to stay alive.At 20, Julia Taylor went to prison for murdering a man who deserved it. Ten years later, she’s ready to put the past behind her and get on with her life. But someone won’t let her. Someone will do anything to drive Julia away, including murder.
As the body count rises, Julia is forced to accept the help of Dylan Andrews, a cop with dark secrets of his own. Unfortunately help has a cost. Dylan is digging into Julia’s past, uncovering secrets she is desperate to keep.
Julia must keep Dylan at a distance, or else risk her own safety, and the safety of everyone she loves …
Read an Excerpt from Cold DeceptionDylan Andrews led the struggling woman away from the Council building, across the square and to the wisteria covered picnic area. Grey and bare, the twisting vine hung down in a dense veil, providing minimal cover from prying eyes. Luckily few people were around on this freezing morning.“What’re you doing? Let me go!” Through her struggles Dylan could see she was still gasping for breath and shaking. The dark circles under her eyes stood out in stark relief against the complete whiteness of her skin. “Sit down,” he ordered. “You’re having a panic attack. Just sit there and breathe.”She collapsed on a bench and leaned against the stone picnic table. “I’ll be alright in a minute,” she said in a small voice.He stared down at her, irritated with himself and his reaction to her. Everything he knew about Julia Taylor indicated she wasn’t the run of the mill ex-crim, yet his hackles rose when he was around her. He knew he wouldn’t have to keep an eye on her like most crims first out of jail. She wasn’t a user and murderers had a low recidivism rate. Many people thought her crime was justified and there was certainly no doubt the pedophile priest was no loss to the world. That was the problem. She didn’t have the right to make that decision. No one did except a court of law. Sure, she’d been young and foolish, but he’d seen first hand what out of control vigilantism did. Some nights the vision of Dale Rowe’s dismembered limbs still visited him …. Her breathing returned to normal and some colour appeared in her face. No doubt about it, the Taylor women were stunners. Blossom was a carbon copy of her mother, but the woman in front of him was equally compelling. Instead of dark and petite like the other women in her family, Julia was taller with round curves, pale skin and chocolate-honeycomb hair. She pulled off her woollen beanie and strands of gold flashed in the filtered winter sun. Looking into her eyes he could get lost in all that riot of colour. What were they? Green, hazel, brown? Large eyes filled with pain and something else. Something he didn’t want to think too much about. Yearning. That’s what it was. Not surprising, he supposed. You don’t spend ten years in jail without yearning for freedom. But wanting was a double edged sword, as he knew only too well. What you wanted wasn’t always good for you. He sat in on the bench opposite her, aware his size intimidated her. That was okay in some situations but not in the midst of a panic attack. He watched her scrub her hands over her face and push back her mane of hair. Pulling her scarf free from around her neck she took in a deep breath and let it out. The skin of her neck was creamy and pale. He couldn’t help following that track of smoothness down toward her buttoned shirt. It was a little too tight and the first button pulled, stretching to open. He gave himself a good mental slap. Of all the women in the world to lust after, this was not the one. Apart from the fact she was just out of jail; was suffering from a bad transition to the real world and he might have to arrest her sister at some stage, there was something about her he knew was dangerous. Not dangerous for others, just for him. Under that tough persona he could see she was too vulnerable, too lost. “Do you want me to get you some water?” he said. She shook her head.“How often does it happen?”She finally met his eyes and he saw wariness had replaced yearning. Good. She needed to be on guard. “Just when I come across a crowd of people in an enclosed space. I thought I was over it. I guess I’m not.”“You had one yesterday when I bought Blossom home. There wasn’t a crowd there.”Hard bitterness leached into her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting to see a cop on my doorstep so soon after getting out. You reminded me of someone.” She wounded the scarf back around her neck and stood up. “Thanks for saving me,” she said with a wry smile. “It’s a first for me.”“Being saved?”“Being saved by a cop.” She crammed her beanie back on her head as the wind pricked up. “I’m okay now. Time for another go. This time I’m prepared.” She turned toward the Council Chambers.When she was half way across the square he called after her.“Who do I remind you of?”She stopped and turned back toward him.“The cop who punched me in the gut then pushed me into a filthy police cell the night I was arrested. He didn’t rape me. He’d done that already to the woman in the cell next to me. I was lucky, wasn’t I?” She shrugged. “He went on to big and better things, though. Quite a business man in more ways than one.”She lifted her hand and saluted him then went on her way. A chill, colder than the icy wind, settled into his bones as he watched her go.
Links to your favourite digital bookshop where you can buy Cold Deception are here http://momentumbooks.com.au/books/cold-deception/You can also pre order Desperate Deception here http://momentumbooks.com.au/books/desperate-deception-dark-mountain-2/
Find her on her website http://dbtait.comCONNECT WITH D.B. Tait
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/DBTaitAuthorand Twitter https://twitter.com/DBTait
