Blair Bancroft's Blog, page 62

O'Rourke's Heiress

Can the daughter of a jumped-up tradesman find happiness with a handsome and charming viscount, or does her destiny lie elsewhere? Perhaps with a man who isn't trying to kill her?



Because the Dartmoor scene used for the cover of O'Rourke's Heiress was so idyllic, my cover artists sent it to me separately so I could share it.

WARNING! O'Rourke's Heiress contains major spoilers for The Sometime Bride and Tarleton's Wife. I strongly recommend you read both those books before Heiress, which contains characters from each.
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If you've ever wondered what happened to the young men and women who married to suit their parents (as classic fictional heros and heroines never seem to), O'Rourke's Heiress is one example of "What if?" After all, I think most of us would agree we don't always get it right the first time around, and there should be a place in Romance for those who mess up - big time!

Cover blurb for O'Rourke's Heiress:

Although Terence O'Rourke would never admit it, he loves Beth Brockman. Beth, daughter of Tobias Brockman, the Merchant Midas, has loved her foster brother, Terence, for all seventeen years of her life. Both are bastards. Both owe everything to Tobias, who has one simple goal beyond making money: he wants his only child to marry a title.

Beth's protests are ignored as Terence sacrifices his own desires so she can marry the heir to an earldom. But disillusionment begins on Beth's wedding night. She is no longer a pampered princess. Her husband is master of her fate, her money, her person, her life. He can love her, starve her, beat her, sleep with as many women as he likes. He can abandon her . . . even kill her. And live happily ever after on her munificent dowry.

Occasionally, Beth sees flashes of the charming gentleman she thought she married. As a bitter winter on Dartmoor turns to spring, she struggles to make her marriage work. But events begin to suggest her husband is a madman or a murderer. Perhaps both.

Prior to Beth's wedding, Tobias Brockman sent Terence to Louisiana, where he assuages his anguish over Beth's marriage in the arms of an ambitious Creole, who clings to him all the way back to London. Where Terence discovers his "sacrifice" was in vain—his beloved Beth has suffered beatings by her husband, topped by a series of inexplicable accidents. A dash to Dartmoor reveals that the lovely, innocent young girl Terence once knew is totally disillusioned, determined never again to allow love into her life. Terence keeps trying, but their past mistakes continue to haunt them. Happily Ever After seems impossible for this pair of star-crossed lovers, but sometimes Fate does the strangest things . . .

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Next blog: The recipe for Coronation Chicken prepared for a luncheon prior to Queen Elizabeth's coronation way back when.

Thanks for stopping by!

Scones for a Queen

The Orlando Sentinel recently printed two recipes in an article entitled, "Raise a fork to the queen: Celebrate Elizabeth II's jubilee with recipes chronicling her reign." Included were two recipes: Drop Scones and Coronation Chicken. The recipe for Drop Scones is featured today, Coronation Chicken in March.

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From a letter of January 24, 1960, by Queen Elizabeth to President Dwight D. Eisenhower:

"Dear Mr. President, Seeing a picture of you in today's newspaper standing in front of a barbecue grilling quail, reminded me that I had never sent you the recipe of the drop scones which I promised you at Balmoral. . . . Though the quantities are for 16 people, when there are fewer, I generally put in less flour and milk, but use the other ingredients as stated. . . . I think the mixture needs a great deal of beating while making, and shouldn't stand about too long before cooking. . . ."

Note: The Sentinel article states that the drop scones are really more like pancakes.

Drop Scones

2 eggs
¼ cup caster sugar (superfine sugar)*
2 teacups milk (1½ cups)
4 teacups flour (3 cups)
3 teaspoons cream of tartar
2 teaspoons bicarbonate of soda (baking soda)
2 tablespoons melted butter

Beat the eggs, sugar and about half the milk together; add flour. Mix well, adding remainder of milk as required, along with the cream of tartar and backing soda. Fold in melted butter.

Ladle batter in batches by large spoonfuls (about ¼ cup) into a greased, large skillet or griddle over medium-low heat. Cook until bubbles begin to form, 2-3 minutes. Flip; cook until lightly browned, about 1 minute.

*If you don't have superfine sugar, process granulated white sugar in a food processor until very fine.
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Grace's next Mosaic Moment: my brand new Historical Romance,
O'Rourke's Heiress.
Can the daughter of a Cit find happiness with a handsome and charming viscount, or does her destiny lie elsewhere? Perhaps with a man who isn't trying to kill her?

World Ending in 2012?

The legend above this reproduction of the Mayan calendar reads: TZOLKIN. Calendar wheel system of measuring time. Every single day has its own omens and associations. The inexorable passing of days acts as a kind of perpetual fortune telling machinery. Guiding the destinies of the Mayas and all the native peoples of Mesoamerica. It is still in use in an unchanged form in the outback, under the care of specialized calendar priests, after 5,123 years.

The words beneath the calendar: "Who owns your time, owns your mind. Change your idea of time and change your mind. Change your mind and then . . . you will change the world." Mayan Belief

(And, no, my Spanish isn't that good. The opposite side of the sheet above is in English!)
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Below: the hand-made wooden reproduction of the Mayan calendar I couldn't resist purchasing.

Will the world end on D ecember 22, 2012, the so-called "end" of the Mayan calendar?

"No way," said our guide to the Mayan ruins of Tulum. His mother was Mayan, he informed us, and a man more dedicated to his heritage you could not find. He went to great lengths to praise the bus load of us off the Carnival Paradise for choosing the ruins over swimming, shopping, etc. And he absolutely, positively assured us that on the morning after the Mayan calendar runs out, the sun will rise, and the calendar will simply recycle, reverting back to its beginning.

My son and I felt privileged to have "Tour Guide Juan" as our mentor for the day. We couldn't help but wonder if the other guides were as dedicated. His extensive knowledge of his subject continued as he led us through the ruins at Tulum, including showing photos he had taken at summer and winter solstices and at the fall and winter equinoxes, each showing the sun shining through an exactly placed opening in the Mayan temple complex.

As we walked into the ruins, I'd swear they trained that iguana to pose. He just sat there and let my son take a dozen photos!

We walked through a tunnel in a rock wall, and there it was - according to Juan, the only Mayan city on the water.








Among the many things Juan told us about the Mayan culture is that chocolate is a sacred drink, used in religious ceremonies, particularly weddings. This is still true today, not just in the heyday of the Mayan culture.

He also admitted that the Mayans' worst enemy was the Mayans. And that fighting among themselves was weakening the culture even before the arrival of the Spanish.





















Above, the Temple of Tulum, the center of a city that once extended over a square mile.

Our guide displaying two of his photos of the sun shining through a carefully placed opening on the morning of the summer solstice.

A close-up of the temple.



Credit: Wooden Mayan calendar, iguana, & Juan with sun photos - by David Kone
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For someone who had been twice to Machu Picchu in Peru but never seen a Mayan ruin, Tulum was the highlight of our January cruise. Warning: you have to put up with some aggressive vendors - all working for "foreign" owners, according to our guide! - before you can start the walk in to the ruins. It's almost like running a gauntlet. Sigh. But the ruins are worth it. At least if you're a history buff like me. If you go anywhere near Cozumel, don't miss it!

Coming soon: My Regency historical featuring characters from Tarleton's Wife and The Sometime Bride. Also, a gourmet chicken recipe created for Queen Elizabeth's coronation luncheon in 1953 (featured recently in the Orlando Sentinel).

Thanks for stopping by Grace's Mosaic Moments.

Family, Friends, & Carnival Madness

The Sunshine Skyway (Tampa Bay) at sunset


Got back early Friday from a 5-day cruise on the Carnival Paradise with eighteen family and friends. Woo-hoo, did the restaurant tremble when they saw us coming! The greatest irony of the trip - it was organized by my daughter's real estate assistant way back in early September to celebrate her 23rd birthday. One week before the cruise, she was told there was a January opening in nursing school, she wouldn't have to wait until July. BUT if she took it, the cruise was out. So there we were, cruising the Caribbean, celebrating Maria's birthday (and enjoying our cabin stewards' towel animals), while Maria went to school. Sigh.

Cold in Tampa when we left, but after a day and a night cruising south (through rough seas), the weather in the Caymans was grand. Did a fabulous tour on the "Nautilus," a boat with the passenger seats below the waterline so we could see coral reefs, multitudes of colorful fish, and two shipwrecks (19th c.) Then off to a Turtle Farm - see photo below of me juggling a turtle. Note for those who have cruised the Bahamas: money from the 500 banks in the Caymans definitely affects the economy. The whole of Grand Cayman appears far more prosperous than Nassau, including many luxury hotels. The 7-mile beach, however, is available to all, with walk-throughs to beach access between the hotels, as well as several miles of open beach and parking (not yet snatched up by hotels or condos).

Next blog: a bit about our tour of the Mayan ruins in Cozumel.

Next book going indie: O'Rourke's Heiress, an Historical Romance, featuring a number of characters from The Sometime Bride and Tarleton's Wife. (I did a promotion of two free days for Bride this past weekend and was amazed by the number of downloads. I'd like to think it was me, but I'm afraid it was the 0.00 price tag!

All the best, Grace
aka Blair Bancroft

Photos by David Kone

Orange Blossoms & Mayhem

A brand new book for a brand new year!


Needless to say, I'm thrilled to present Orange Blossoms & Mayhem with Delle Jacob's gorgeous cover, which so perfectly conveys both the exotic locales and the bombshell heroine. Please see description below.

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Want to get married in a hot air balloon? Have the bride step out of a Fabergé egg? Just call Fantascapes, the Halliday family business (ironically based in a sleepy Florida resort and retirement community). Fantascapes is also the right number for hiking the Inca Trail, a chalet in Switzerland, or a luxury journey to Angkor Wat.

Trouble in Fantasyland? It's Laine Halliday—well-dressed, well-toned, a sharpshooter in every sense of the word—to the rescue. But are fantasy weddings and vacations for the pampered rich enough to satisfy her?

Laine's options expand when bullets fly after she meets a mystery man on the Inca Trail in Peru, and she begins to fear there may be more to that Fabergé egg project than meets the eye. Amid the color and frantic pace of a luxury business, Laine finds herself involved in Russian mob warfare and law enforcement activity that ranges from the local SWAT team to Interpol. Can a wedding planner from Golden Beach, Florida, survive an encounter with the mob and juggle the two men in her life, as well as her job with Fantascapes and an offer from Interpol? Never fear, Laine Halliday is the kind of heroine who may be able to do it all.

Grace Note: Orange Blossoms & Mayhem is my venture into Thriller mode, with a bombshell heroine, hunky heroes, and dashes of humor to lighten the mayhem. If you like your heroines truly heroic (this one saves the hero five times), this book is for you. [Please note Orange Blossoms is not part of my backlist, but a brand new, never-before-published novel.]

Link to Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Orange-Blossoms-Mayhem-Fantascapes-ebook/dp/B006T00PO6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1325636085&sr=1-1

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On another note, I have finally succumbed to Twitter. I can be found @blairbancroft. On Facebook and Linked, I post under my real name of Grace Kone.

Coming soon: O'Rourke's Heiress, a Regency Historical saga, featuring a number of the characters from Tarleton's Wife and The Sometime Bride.

May 2012 bring peace and fulfillment to you and yours!

Grace

A Christmas Shopping Story

Only a few weeks ago, I ranted against Black Friday on this blog. My opinion hasn't changed, but I discovered today that Christmas shopping can have very special moments that truly illustrate the meaning of the Season.

Not that I haven't enjoyed accumulating presents in my closet over the past few months, anticipating the looks on my grandchildren's faces over some particularly unexpected surprise. And I've enjoyed making Christmas cookies with the three little girls, showing them how to measure and mix, cut out, decorate . . . and granting them permission to eat the the last of the dough and a sampling of the cookies we're saving for Christmas dessert. But today, Saturday, December 17, 2011, was special, an emotional few moments that ranged from nightmare to miracle.

Ordinarily I wouldn't go near a store this near to Christmas, but I had to return a batch of colored markers to Staples at Waterford Lakes, because my oldest granddaughter was disappointed when the pink she chose turned out to be white (somehow it never got "inked"). After Staples, I braved Jo-Ann's fabrics because I had at least ten 40% off coupons burning a hole in my purse. A great opportunity to acquire yarn and craft items for the grandchildren. Plus 20% off on the whole order. For that, I would brave the Christmas crowds.

After being told I'd saved twenty-three dollars and some cents, I pushed my cart out to my car and put the bags in the trunk. While parking my cart so I could drive out frontwards, a woman asked me where the "bookstore" was. I gave her directions to Barnes & Nobles, got in my car and drove home.

But when I got home and went to put my car keys in my purse, there was no purse. I looked under my pile of Publix cloth bags, looked in the back seat, checked the trunk. No purse. My mind boggled. No purse, no driver's license, no credit cards, no debit card, no cell phone. No Macy's card, no membership cards to umpteen places. No extra car keys, no address book, no . . .

I must have been scammed, I decided. While I gave directions to Barnes & Noble, someone had grabbed my purse. But no . . . I'd swear no one else had been near, and yet . . .

Appalled, I drove back to Jo-Ann's, cataloging all the phone calls I was going to have to make. After what I knew was a hopeless check of the shopping carts in the lot, I went into the store. I stood at the counter at Customer Service, feeling like a complete idiot for even asking. I looked at the young man and said, "I know this is a stupid question, but did anyone find a purse?"

He looked at me and said, "It's not a stupid question, we did find a purse."

"You found a purse?"

"Yes."

"Was it silver?"

"Someone found it in a cart and turned it in. We have it locked up in our vault."

He made a call on the intercom, asking for the purse to be brought to the front of the store, while I burbled my thanks, feeling horrible that I wasn't able to thank the Good Samaritan who found my purse and turned it in. And, yes, I also thanked the good Lord for this small Christmas miracle that meant so much to me. This incident of less-than-an-hour in time that so amply illustrates the true meaning of Christmas. And of the Ten Commandments.

When you stop to think of our lousy economy, of how many people have so little . . . and yet my purse came back to me just as I left it, with everything intact.

If you've enjoyed this Christmas story, please pass it along. I can guarantee that the Christmas spirit lives at Waterford Lakes Mall in Orlando.

Grace, who is still shaking her head and saying thanks

Reflections on Thanksgiving

I wrote this blog right after Thanksgiving, and because it's mostly a rant against Black Friday, I let it mellow a bit before I posted it. But, basically, my sentiments haven't changed. If you agree with what I've written, I hope you'll pass it along. It's time for a grass-roots revolt against the incursion of crass commercialism into our most American holiday.

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Grace's Reflections on Thanksgiving

Now that Thanksgiving is past, I feel the need to comment on the good and the bad of the holiday that is coming closer and closer to being trampled under the rush toward Christmas. Or should I say, under the rush toward greed and acquisition of material goods that has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas?

My daughter and I, with the aid of some of our guests, fed nineteen for Thanksgiving this year. And, no, we weren't volunteering at a homeless shelter. That was just our extended family here in Orlando. Thirteen of the sixteen adults present were native Spanish-speakers.

Two of our Hispanic guests just got their citizenship six weeks ago. So for more than just the three children, ages 5, 6, and 8, I took the time to explain a bit about the first Thanksgiving before we said grace. I read a passage in which the Pilgrim's Governor Bradford wrote that although they had very little, they sat down [November 1621] and gave thanks. I told the children that was another way of saying that if we didn't say thank-you for little things, it was all too easy to forget to say thank-you for big things. A lesson we all need to remember.

This was the largest Thanksgiving gathering I have ever participated in, and I'm happy to say it was a success. I felt we had been true to the spirit of Thanksgiving and, at the same time, been able to demonstrate the family traditions of Thanksgiving to people unfamiliar with this holiday. This year, for the first time, a few of them actually tried the cranberry sauce!

And yet, while we were sitting down to dinner, thousands of people across the country were waiting in line to storm the big box stores. One woman in our area was shown on television saying, yes, she knew this was a family holiday, and her whole family was with her in line—they were starting a new tradition. As I recall, I groaned out loud.

This year, not only did stores open at midnight on "Black Friday," some actually opened on Thanksgiving Day. I was appalled, making a mental note not to patronize those stores for any of my Christmas shopping. Black Friday indeed—and nudging its way into Black Thursday. For shame!

And what did you think of the Black Friday ads this year? The prize for most tasteless and most insulting went to Target. I almost threw something at my TV every time it came on. That's the ad with the brainless twit who was so excited about Black Friday she could only giggle insanely and present the absolute worst caricature of a female shopper. Totally nauseating, as well as a kick in the teeth for women in general. I swear that ad must have been written by a twenty-something New York ad guy who hated his mother. But that Target execs actually approved it . . .! Aargh! It was a slap in the face to every female I know.

I don't think the Pilgrims braved the seas in three little boats, starved, and lost half their group that first winter so Americans could remember them by camping out for days in order to buy a TV at a bargain price. What our broken economy needs is more people with genuine values, people who respect God, home, and family. People who give thanks for the bounties we have, whether large or small. People who buy American, yes, but never forget to set aside time to give thanks that the Pilgrims set foot on this new world and were followed by thousands and thousands of others seeking freedom and a fresh start. (Otherwise none of would be here.)

What our ancestors did in coming to this country, whether 390 years ago or in 2011, is worth giving thanks for. Our country, no matter how troubled at the moment, is worth giving thanks for. And thanks for family, friends, a job, food on the table. And even if the job is iffy and the food sparse, we're still lucky to be here and not in some more unstable part of the world. There's always something to give thanks for, even if occasionally we have to look pretty hard to find it.

And to all those people, waiting in line to trample others on their way to the goodies: is your life really so shallow that shopping is all Thanksgiving and Christmas mean to you? You could at least take the time to be thankful you have the $200 instead of $2000 for a TV. After all, if you're in line, you're waiting to BUY, aren't you? Which means you have a lot more than many of our citizens do at the moment. If only you were buying American . . . or giving that money to charity.

Ah well, I guess that's too much to ask. But please, folks, however you do your Christmas shopping next year, please take the time on Thanksgiving Day to give thanks, true thanks for our blessings. (And it wouldn't hurt to tell Wal-Mart and the other stores that opened on Thanksgiving this year that it's time to Cease and Desist.)

I understand many of these same big box stores were quiet by the time normal business hours rolled around on Black Friday, which indicates the stores aren't going to make any more money opening at 5:00 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day than if they open at midnight or, better yet, at a reasonable time on Friday morning, giving their employees time to enjoy both a proper Thanksgiving dinner and football.

If you agree with this article, I'd appreciate your passing it on.

Grace of Grace's Mosaic Moments
Who writes as Blair Bancroft

Love At Your Own Risk

Love At Your Own Risk was my first print novel, part of Kensington's Precious Gem line way back in August 2000. The name, however, was changed to what I considered the overused generic, He Said, She Said. Why? Because the Marketing Department considered "risk" a no-no, a word that would put readers off. Sigh. Other editorial changes have also been put back to the original. For example, my line, "He had lips that looked like they never smiled" was changed to, "He had kissable lips." Aargh!

In any event, Love At Your Own Risk, is now available online from Kindle and Smashwords and should be available soon for Nook, Sony, Palm, and other e-readers. Blurb below.

Love At Your Own Risk

After winning a case she wished she'd lost (the defendant was a rapist), defense attorney Victoria Kent rushes off to her parents' vacation cottage on Cape Cod, only to find herself nose-to-nose with a 9mm Glock. It seems the cottage is rented. By John Paolillo, a homicide detective from New Haven who has been sentenced to two weeks' "rest" after hitting a defense attorney.

John offers to share—after all, the cottage has a separate basement apartment. Reluctantly, Vicki agrees. Alas, John has another problem—his car died. Inevitably, they end up exploring the outer Cape together and manage to fool themselves into thinking people with diametrically opposite views of the law can become a couple. Their relationship even survives a surprise visit from Vicki's alleged fiancé. But when they leave Cape Cod's less well-known byways to walk the teeming streets of Provincetown, disaster strikes.

Vicki rushes back to Boston. John returns to New Haven. They've reached a no hope situation. Unless some wise soul can find a way past the basic conflict that has split them apart.

Grace Note: My love of Cape Cod inspired this classic romance with the outer Cape as the most important secondary character. Hopefully, Love At Your Own Risk will inspire you to visit this very special place where the Pilgrims first set foot on our continent. And, yes, First Encounter Beach is included in the story.

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Coming next: Reflections on Thanksgiving

Thanks for stopping by. Grace

Mistletoe Moment

Wow! Something NEW. I've spent the last ten months uploading my backlist to Kindle and Smashwords, but here is something brand new. My very first novella. It is available solo or as part of Cotillion's Christmas anthology, Christmas Kisses. The link below is to the solo version. And if you look below the cover and blurb, you'll find my confession: the all-too-true story of where I got the idea for this story. Pamela Ashburton's dreams of a London Season meet with disaster at her very first ball. When her humiliation is exaggerated by the unfeeling attitude of her mother and sister, she abandons all hope of entering society and goes to live with an aunt in Worcestershire. Four years later, she is well on her way to spinsterhood.

Will Forsythe, a veteran of the Peninsular War, retreats to Worcestershire hoping a quiet, solitary life will heal more than his physical wounds. But it's Christmas season, and he finds himself faced with a damsel distressingly in need of help to gather mistletoe for her aunt's Twelfth Night Ball. As an officer and a gentleman, what else can he do?

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The sad tale behind the Mistletoe Moment:

A number of years ago, I was on a tour designed specifically for authors of Regency novels. While in Bath, we were part of a Georgian dance evening at the Upper Assembly Rooms. The dancers were there to perform for us, and also to help us through the intricacies of the dance figures of the day. We were all costumed in Regency gowns. Knowing dancing was not one of my skills, I demurred, but when one of the charming, costumed Georgian gentlemen invited me to do the Grand March, how could I resist?

After a romp down the middle of the floor, we did a U-turn around a line chairs. Half-way back to the "top" of the dance, my feet went out from under me, and I in my gorgeous green gown went down splat on the floor. Of course everyone was appalled. My charming partner seated me on a chair, rushed off to get me water. The dancers assured me the floor was the most slippery they had encountered anywhere, etc., etc. But, believe me, I was able to put all my feelings that night into poor Pamela's plight. I was fortunate enough to have kindness shown. Poor Pamela was not. But I knew exactly what sent her flying to Worcestershire, for I sat out the remainder of the night, chatting with Mary Balogh's mother, while wanting to sink into that highly polished floor.

Out of such things are novels born—well, at least a novella. The link to Mistletoe Moment:

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9611-mistletoe-moment.aspx


Coming soon: A Cape Cod romance from my backlist - Love at Your Own Risk

Grace, who writes as Blair Bancroft

The Sometime Bride

After two months of re-editing and formatting, all 144,763 words of The Sometime Bride are making their debut on Kindle and Smashwords (with Nook, Sony, Palm, & other e-readers in the near future). This is the book where I inadvertently broke all the rules of romance. But when I read it again, more than 15 years after I wrote it and 11 years since its first publication, I discovered The Sometime Bride still qualified as the best book I ever wrote. You can read 20% for free on Smashwords (link below), and I'd love to hear what you think. Does my rule-breaking offend? Or perhaps it isn't really noticeable? Or does it possibly add to the book's appeal?




Catherine Audley, the daughter of Britain's spymaster on the Iberian Peninsula, is far more sophisticated than most young women her age, which doesn't protect her from the machinations of her father, a husband of convenience, or the unrelenting demands of a long war. Over seven years of a first-hand, and highly personal, view of the Peninsular War, she matures into a woman who is finally able to go toe-to-toe with the enigmatic young man to whom she has given years of unquestioning devotion. Only to discover that love cannot compensate for betrayal of trust. Or can it?

While masquerading as an ox-cart driver, the young Englishman known as Blas the Bastard meets Catherine Audley, and his life is changed forever. It is 1807 and France is about to invade Portugal. To protect Cat's father, his gaming establishment in Lisbon, and the British spy network on the Peninsula, Blas proposes a "paper" marriage between himself and young Catherine. She is fourteen; he, twenty-one—both too young for the responsibilities they must assume. Blas is arrogant, dashing, occasionally reckless, totally bound up in the demands of the war, and oblivious to the looming disastrous conflict with his sometime wife.

When Cat finally discovers how badly Blas has deceived her, a monumental clash is inevitable. In no way does the triumph of allied troops in 1814 guarantee a happy ending for two people for whom the war was a personal disaster. Is she a sometime bride, the "widow" of a man who never existed? Is she Blas's well-rewarded, but discarded mistress? Or is she a beloved wife whose only rival is her husband's determined expediency in a time of war?

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The Sometime Bride is both an Historical Romance and a heavily researched Historical novel, detailing the seven years of the Peninsular War as seen through the eyes of our young hero and heroine. And of course it has an Epilogue about that most famous battle of all, Waterloo.

Below are the links to The Sometime Bride at Kindle and Smashwords. The Smashword's link allows a 20% free read.

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/100234


http://www.amazon.com/The-Sometime-Bride-ebook/dp/B0060ZHODK/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1320159903&sr=1-1


Coming soon: my novella, Mistletoe Moment - due out November 10 from the Cotillion line of Ellora's Cave

Grace, who writes as Blair Bancrft