"Quick paced, fun, thrilling, and addictive read." (NG)
"Excellent plot, well thought out." (NG)
"Great read-will keep readers turning pages." (A)
"Classically writer story, riveting and finely honed."(A)"One of the best books I've read in a long time." (A)
Silk on the skin—luxurious, luscious..lethal.
London-Fall, 1888
The city is in a panic as Jack the Ripper continues his murderous spree. While the Whitechapel police struggle to find him, Detective Inspector Rudyard Bloodstone and his partner are working feverishly to find their own serial killer. The British Museum's beautiful gardens have become a killing ground for young women strangled as they stroll through.
Their investigation has them brushing up against Viscount Everhard, a powerful member of the House of Lords, and a friend to Queen Victoria. When the circumstantial evidence points to him as a suspect, Rudyard must deal with the political blowback, and knows if they are going to go after the viscount, they'd better be right and have proof.
As the body count grows and the public clamor for the detectives to do more, inter-department rivalries complicate the already difficult case.
EXCERPT
Events of the day and the potential satisfaction of giving Napier a bloody nose dwindled. Questions about the murder crept back into Ruddy's thoughts. Morris joined him at his table in the rear of the pub with a Guinness, the popular beer of choice in hand. “You’ve got the look of a man whose thoughts are a long distance from London.”
“No, sadly my thoughts are fixed here in the city. I’m trying to figure out a clue. Ellis’s roommate said she’d sometimes meet with a well-dressed man, a man of means the victim indicated. They’d meet up at the fountain by the British Museum.”
“Don’t know the spot but then the museum isn’t my cup of tea.”
“Not the point. I’m saying it’s odd. What member of the upper class chooses to stroll through a public garden other than Hyde or Regents, where they can see and be seen by one of their own?”
“I agree the wealthy prefer the parks filled with others of their kind but it doesn’t mean a man can’t enjoy someplace different.”
“We interviewed the guard again. The one that discovered the body walks that half of the building. He told us the majority of their male patrons are natty dressers, but he never saw a man like that loitering by the fountain.”
“My guess is: the man is married and can’t afford to run the risk of being seen by a friend of his wife’s. Or, he might live or work in the area and the spot is convenient.”
“Or, he’s a murderer who’s noticed the victim walking through the park on a regular basis, saw it as an opportunity and cozied up to her.”
Ruddy took another swallow of his ale, mentally debating the merit of each theory. “I don’t think he lives in the area. If so, he’d have cut through the park more and been seen by the guards. Not sure about the married man having a tryst idea."
To Ruddy's way of thinking, if the man was married and looking for a tumble, he’d have met her someplace other than the gardens and at a better hour.
Instinct drew him back to his original sense of the culprit and crime. “I feel like this was a crime of opportunity. I’ve thought it all along and can’t shake the sense.”
“If he was just seeking a victim, then why haven’t you had more murders like this?” Morris asked.
Ruddy downed the rest of his beer and put his tankard on the edge of the table where June would refill it. “Everyone has to start somewhere. She might be number one.”
I was born and raised in Chicago. My father was a history professor and my mother was, and is, a voracious reader. I grew up with a love of history and books.My parents also love traveling, a passion they passed onto me. I wanted to see the places I read about, see the land and monuments from the time periods that fascinated me. I’ve had the good fortune to travel extensively throughout Europe, the Near East, and North Africa.
I am a retired police detective. I spent twenty-five years in law enforcement with two different agencies. My desire to write came in my early teens. After I retired, I decided to pursue that dream. I write three different series. My paranormal romance series is called, Knights in Time. My romantic thriller series is Dangerous Waters. The newest is The Bloodstone Series. Each series has a different setting and some cross time periods, which I find fun to write.
I currently live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband and five wild and crazy rescue dogs.
Author's Giveaway
If her time at court has taught Catherine anything, it’s that there is no room for weakness in Imperial Russia. With the Empress’ health failing and rumors of a change in the line of succession, her place in the royal line is once more in jeopardy.
Description:
Release Date: September 15th, 2015
LONG LIVE THE QUEEN
If her time at court has taught Catherine anything, it’s that there is no room for weakness in Imperial Russia. With the Empress’ health failing and rumors of a change in the line of succession, her place in the royal line is once more in jeopardy. Tormented by her sadistic husband and his venomous mistress, Catherine must once more walk the fine line between pleasure and politics—between scandal and survival.
When her young son becomes the target of those rebelling against Peter’s reign, Catherine will have to rise up to protect herself, her child, and her nation from his unstable and potentially catastrophic rule. This means putting herself at odds with the most dangerous man she’s ever known, trusting those who once proved to be her enemies, and turning a nation against its sovereign. In the ultimate battle for the crown, new alliances will be forged, loyalties will be tested, and blood will be shed.
Don’t miss this breathtaking conclusion to the Stolen Empire series!
Queen of Always is a YA historical fiction based on the life of young Catherine the Great. Fans of the hit TV show REIGN will devour this scandalous glimpse into the life of one of the most dynamic women in history.
EXCERPT
Once everyone has filed in, Peter stands.
“I have gathered you together to witness a momentous occasion.” The crowd hushes. “This week, my son and heir was taken by those who would seek to destabilize our beloved country. Those men have been executed. But before their deaths, it was discovered that one of them had ties to Danish court.”
I watch on in horror as his eyes lock on to Alexander in the crowd. “While I cannot prove he was acting on orders from Danish court, I have decided that a show of force is necessary. And so this week, I am dispatching troops to Demark. We will take the country and any who oppose us will be razed to the ground.” He lifts a glass as if to toast, but the room is silent. I stand, leaning over and whispering.
“Peter, you can’t declare war on Denmark with no evidence. They are our ally, if you attack them unprovoked—“
I don’t get to finish my thought. His hand shoots out, slapping me in the face so hard I pitch forward and roll down the small staircase.
My ears are still ringing when he slowly climbs down and takes a handful of my hair in his fist, lifting me to my feet.
“There may be some of you who question my decisions. But I am sovereign Russia. This country, and everyone in it, belong to me. I decide who we will be at war with and I will decide who to call my wife.”
He’s shouting, spittle flying from his mouth as he takes two steps forward, dragging me with him. When he finally releases me, I stumble but manage to keep my feet under me.
“George, take her to the cells!”
I blink, steeling myself to be taken into custody. But to my surprise, George doesn’t move. He simply lowers his head.
“Mikahil!” Peter yells, looking for support from his oldest friend. Mikhail rushes to Peter’s side and whispers furiously. Peter waves him off in an angry fit.
“Guards, take her!” he orders. Two guards near the rear door move, only to be met with a line of Nobles blocking their path. My own guards rush in, swords drawn, and circle me.
I can feel the rage radiating off Peter in waves. Straightening myself I hold up my hands.
“No, please. Let them through.” Then to Grigori, “Let them take me, that is my command.”
Reluctantly the Nobles step aside, and my guards retreat. But before his guards can touch me Peter screams and they freeze.
“No! You will not obey her. You will obey me!”
For a long moment no one moves. Battle lines have been drawn and it’s as if the entire assembly might erupt into a bloody massacre right here in open court. My breath is coming too fast, I realize, forcing myself to still against the rising panic. Unsure what else to do to defuse the situation I turn to Peter and curtsey deeply.
“Yes, we will obey our king!” I say, my voice as steady as I can make it. Around me, others do the same, some even dropping to one knee.
Finally, Peter takes a deep breath, seeming to calm. But it’s a menacing sound, one I know all too well, and goosebumps break out across my skin. It’s the sound the wind makes before it blows, the sound of waves an instant before they crash to the shore. The sound of inevitability. While I realize that nothing can stop him now, I know I must try anyway, I must try to contain the damage.
“Punish me, if you will, but leave the others. It was only their deep sense of chivalry that drove them to defend me, nothing more,” I plead.
The side of his mouth curls up as Peter nods.
“Yes, you must be punished. You publically challenged my authority and your punishment will be equally public.”
I swallow hard. A flogging, if I’m lucky. Or perhaps simply a few days in the stockade. He will punish me, but he will not kill me, not even for this. I sag, a moment of relief washing over me, but he sees it, and in his eyes, I see something change.
Moving slowly across the room he grabs a crystal flask of liquid, each step, each gesture exaggerated like a court fool might. When he moves back to me, he holds it close enough for me to smell, swirling the clear liquid inside. Vodka? My confusion lasts only a moment.
Slowly he begins pouring it down my shoulders, into my hair, and down my white feathered gown. The liquid is cold against my hot flesh, soaking into my heavy damask gown. The heavy odor fills my lungs, making each breath sting. Around me people watch, looks of shock and horror etched onto their faces. I find Sergei in the crowd and hold his gaze. His blue-green eyes are narrow, his hand hovering inches above the long knife attached to his waistcoat. I shake my head, imperceptibly, and he blinks, still not relaxing. He’s trying to decide if he’s going to come to my rescue, but I know that if he does, Peter will kill us both. His jaw clenches, but finally, he drops his hand. I feel myself relax, just a bit, as Peter begins speaking again, drawing my attention to his face. He’s excited, like a child about to play his favorite game. It’s then that the real fear hits me.
“My Aunt didn’t believe in executing her enemies. She understood that death was a privilege, that there were far worse things.” He pauses, sweeping the room with a glance. “Let me be very clear. I will not tolerate any disloyalty.” He replaces the now empty flask on the tray and picks a lit candle from the nearby candelabra. I hold his gaze as he walks slowly toward me, each footstep echoing in the deathly still room. The pulse beats in my ears so loudly it drowns out all other sounds, my heart flutters in my ribcage like a hummingbird. I will not let him see me afraid, I decide, steeling myself. I will not give him the pleasure. I would rather die in flames right now than to let him break me again. I lift my chin, refusing to falter.
Once he’s close enough he leans in close, whispering into my ear.
“I have wanted to do this for a very long time, wife.”
He touches the flame to my gown. All I can do is scream as chaos erupts around me.
“I have gathered you together to witness a momentous occasion.” The crowd hushes. “This week, my son and heir was taken by those who would seek to destabilize our beloved country. Those men have been executed. But before their deaths, it was discovered that one of them had ties to Danish court.”
I watch on in horror as his eyes lock on to Alexander in the crowd. “While I cannot prove he was acting on orders from Danish court, I have decided that a show of force is necessary. And so this week, I am dispatching troops to Demark. We will take the country and any who oppose us will be razed to the ground.” He lifts a glass as if to toast, but the room is silent. I stand, leaning over and whispering.
“Peter, you can’t declare war on Denmark with no evidence. They are our ally, if you attack them unprovoked—“
I don’t get to finish my thought. His hand shoots out, slapping me in the face so hard I pitch forward and roll down the small staircase.
My ears are still ringing when he slowly climbs down and takes a handful of my hair in his fist, lifting me to my feet.
“There may be some of you who question my decisions. But I am sovereign Russia. This country, and everyone in it, belong to me. I decide who we will be at war with and I will decide who to call my wife.”
He’s shouting, spittle flying from his mouth as he takes two steps forward, dragging me with him. When he finally releases me, I stumble but manage to keep my feet under me.
“George, take her to the cells!”
I blink, steeling myself to be taken into custody. But to my surprise, George doesn’t move. He simply lowers his head.
“Mikahil!” Peter yells, looking for support from his oldest friend. Mikhail rushes to Peter’s side and whispers furiously. Peter waves him off in an angry fit.
“Guards, take her!” he orders. Two guards near the rear door move, only to be met with a line of Nobles blocking their path. My own guards rush in, swords drawn, and circle me.
I can feel the rage radiating off Peter in waves. Straightening myself I hold up my hands.
“No, please. Let them through.” Then to Grigori, “Let them take me, that is my command.”
Reluctantly the Nobles step aside, and my guards retreat. But before his guards can touch me Peter screams and they freeze.
“No! You will not obey her. You will obey me!”
For a long moment no one moves. Battle lines have been drawn and it’s as if the entire assembly might erupt into a bloody massacre right here in open court. My breath is coming too fast, I realize, forcing myself to still against the rising panic. Unsure what else to do to defuse the situation I turn to Peter and curtsey deeply.
“Yes, we will obey our king!” I say, my voice as steady as I can make it. Around me, others do the same, some even dropping to one knee.
Finally, Peter takes a deep breath, seeming to calm. But it’s a menacing sound, one I know all too well, and goosebumps break out across my skin. It’s the sound the wind makes before it blows, the sound of waves an instant before they crash to the shore. The sound of inevitability. While I realize that nothing can stop him now, I know I must try anyway, I must try to contain the damage.
“Punish me, if you will, but leave the others. It was only their deep sense of chivalry that drove them to defend me, nothing more,” I plead.
The side of his mouth curls up as Peter nods.
“Yes, you must be punished. You publically challenged my authority and your punishment will be equally public.”
I swallow hard. A flogging, if I’m lucky. Or perhaps simply a few days in the stockade. He will punish me, but he will not kill me, not even for this. I sag, a moment of relief washing over me, but he sees it, and in his eyes, I see something change.
Moving slowly across the room he grabs a crystal flask of liquid, each step, each gesture exaggerated like a court fool might. When he moves back to me, he holds it close enough for me to smell, swirling the clear liquid inside. Vodka? My confusion lasts only a moment.
Slowly he begins pouring it down my shoulders, into my hair, and down my white feathered gown. The liquid is cold against my hot flesh, soaking into my heavy damask gown. The heavy odor fills my lungs, making each breath sting. Around me people watch, looks of shock and horror etched onto their faces. I find Sergei in the crowd and hold his gaze. His blue-green eyes are narrow, his hand hovering inches above the long knife attached to his waistcoat. I shake my head, imperceptibly, and he blinks, still not relaxing. He’s trying to decide if he’s going to come to my rescue, but I know that if he does, Peter will kill us both. His jaw clenches, but finally, he drops his hand. I feel myself relax, just a bit, as Peter begins speaking again, drawing my attention to his face. He’s excited, like a child about to play his favorite game. It’s then that the real fear hits me.
“My Aunt didn’t believe in executing her enemies. She understood that death was a privilege, that there were far worse things.” He pauses, sweeping the room with a glance. “Let me be very clear. I will not tolerate any disloyalty.” He replaces the now empty flask on the tray and picks a lit candle from the nearby candelabra. I hold his gaze as he walks slowly toward me, each footstep echoing in the deathly still room. The pulse beats in my ears so loudly it drowns out all other sounds, my heart flutters in my ribcage like a hummingbird. I will not let him see me afraid, I decide, steeling myself. I will not give him the pleasure. I would rather die in flames right now than to let him break me again. I lift my chin, refusing to falter.
Once he’s close enough he leans in close, whispering into my ear.
“I have wanted to do this for a very long time, wife.”
He touches the flame to my gown. All I can do is scream as chaos erupts around me.
Book #1 is FREE
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About the author:
Sherry D. Ficklin is a full time writer from Colorado. She can often be found browsing her local bookstore with a large white hot chocolate in one hand and a towering stack of books in the other. That is, unless she's on deadline at which time she, like the Loch Ness monster, is only seen in blurry photographs. She is the author of over a dozen novels ranging from contemporary romance to science fiction. In her spare time she co-hosts the Pop Lit Divas radio show and is a contributor for Fangirlish.
You can see more about Sherry and her books at her:
Author's Giveaway
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From USA TODAY bestselling author H.B. Moore
Undercover agent Omar Zagouri has been ordered to Giza. A prominent Egyptologist was murdered, and a priceless artifact—the only complete version of the Book of the Dead—is missing.
Description:
Undercover agent Omar Zagouri has been ordered to Giza. A prominent Egyptologist was murdered, and a priceless artifact—the only complete version of the Book of the Dead—is missing. Omar is still reeling from the recent disappearance of his girlfriend, Mia Golding, but he puts his quest to find her on hold to track down the lost piece of history.
Omar’s mission is not just to locate the sacred book; he must also rescue the two archaeologists kidnapped and forced to translate its hieroglyphics under threat of death. Their kidnapper is determined to discover the text’s rumored explosive revelation: that Moses did not receive the Ten Commandments from God but instead copied them from the Egyptians. Though Omar’s need to find Mia grows more urgent, he must focus on finding the enemy who will stop at nothing to ignite a controversy that will change history, and the world, forever.
Chalice Stratford’s hands won’t stop shaking. Since the serial killer who tortured her is still at large, she’s had to enter the witness protection program and give up the medical practice that required her steady hand. Now she is working in a museum in Bordeaux, France, and doing her best to keep a low profile.On the first day of her new job, the last thing she expects is to be abducted in a theft gone wrong. But Omar Zagouri, the man behind the heist, is more than he appears, and Chalice soon discovers that he might be the one man who can put her demons to rest.
For centuries, historians have speculated that the Queen of Sheba is nothing more than a seductive legend; but when undercover agent Omar Zagouri finds a tomb in a tunnel beneath Jerusalem, he unearths cryptic clues that may lead to the queen’s final resting place.This discovery, if authentic, could throw into question the governmental claim to the Holy Land—and prove the Bible false. Wealthy collectors, ruthless archaeologists, and officials from Egypt, Ethiopia, Israel, and Yemen scramble to find and lay claim to the secret site.
Dr. Richard Lyon of Brown University, the world’s leading expert on the queen, is found murdered in his office, setting off a chain of deadly events. Omar desperately works to piece together the puzzle to locate the queen’s burial ground, fearing another assassination will take place. He teams up with one of Lyon’s protégées as well as with his ex-girlfriend, agent Mia Golding, in order to unravel the truth about the queen, expose a murderer, and reveal a timeless story of love, revenge, and sacrifice.
About the author:
H.B. Moore is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of more than a dozen historical novels set in ancient Arabia and Mesoamerica. She attended the Cairo American College in Egypt and the Anglican International School in Jerusalem and received her bachelor of science degree from Brigham Young University.
She writes historical thrillers under the pen name H.B. Moore, and romance and women’s fiction under the name Heather B. Moore. It can be confusing, so her kids just call her Mom.
Event Giveaway
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
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When fifteen-year-old nerd and gamer Max Anderson thinks he’s sneaking a preview of an unpublished video game, he doesn’t realize that 1) He’s been chosen as a beta, an experimental test player. 2) He’s playing the ultimate history game, transporting him into the actual past: anywhere and anytime. And 3) Survival is optional: to return home he must decipher the game’s rules and complete its missions—if he lives long enough. To fail means to stay in the past—forever.
Now Max is trapped in medieval Germany, unprepared and clueless. It is 1471 and he quickly learns that being an outcast may cost him his head. Especially after rescuing a beautiful peasant girl from a deadly infection and thus provoking sinister wannabe Duke Ott. Overnight he is dragged into a hornets’ nest of feuding lords who will stop at nothing to bring down the conjuring stranger in their midst.
Praise for the Book
“Fast-paced compelling YA debut.” - Giselle Green, #1 bestselling author of A Sister’s Gift”
“A wonderfully crafted romp to the time of lords, ladies, and knights.” - Lee Ann Ward, author and former Senior Editor of Champagne Books
“Escape from the Past is chock-full of the tiny details that make a story feel realistic and immersive, from the leather ribbons used to fasten shoes to the slimy gruel that formed the bulk of the peasants’ diet….those who love historical fiction or medieval fantasy will certainly enjoy Escape from the Past.” - Mike Mullin, author of the Ashfall trilogy
EXCERPT
It was exactly 9:32 p.m. when I settled into my favorite chair, the one with the ripped Mexican blanket that serves as a cushion. Little did I know I’d be gone within the hour. I mean gone as in disappeared.
Powering up my high-speed Cyber Xtreme and 32-inch monitor, a guilt gift from my dad and the only valuable thing I own, I stared at the blank disc in my hand. According to my friend, Jimmy, it contained some secret new game his father had invented. Jimmy said his dad thought the game was faulty and I wondered why his dad would have given it to him.
Most people consider Jimmy the lucky one. He lives in a mansion because his father runs some ginormous tech company. My mom and me share space with a thousand spiders in a two-bedroom cottage with a thatched roof. Who in the twenty-first century lives in a house covered with a bunch of straw?
Anyway, I digress. The tower purred as it swallowed the disc, the best sound in the world. It took a long time to boot which should’ve given me the first clue something was wrong. If there’s one thing that drives me crazy it’s slow processors and I knew it wasn’t my equipment. I’ve been gaming since I was six and consider myself pretty good. Especially when it comes to debugging stuff. I was stoked to figure it out, maybe make a few bucks in the process. I’m still American enough to think of dollars instead of Euros because we’ve only lived in Germany for two years.
I was scrounging for a candy bar in my desk when a flame shot across the screen, burning yellow, red and blue. Not that I smoke, but it looked real enough to light a cigarette. In slow motion the fire edged letters into the screen. EarthRider. Cool name. Of course I didn’t get it then. Stupid me.
Below the fire appeared a globe, the kind librarians have on their desks. The thing rotated slowly, zooming closer and closer like Google Earth. Jimmy was right, this was the coolest thing I’d ever seen, the graphics as realistic as if I’d been standing there.
Bornhagen, the place we live, was marked with a front door.
Enter here flashed below.
I was pretty fed up waiting, my fingers twitching to hit the keys. First it took ages to load, then it showed a map? But I didn’t have much else to do except review a few algebra problems— unlike Jimmy I’ve got no trouble with math—so I clicked.
On the screen giant boulders shaped themselves into a gate, opening onto a bunch of hills and a shadowy forest. In the distance, high on the mountain, I saw a castle with two towers, a pale banner fluttering limply on top. It looked vaguely familiar, but at the time I didn’t really think much about it. An ox cart moved slowly across a country road toward the castle.
I sniffed. Something reeked like boiled manure. I looked around to find the source when I noticed a man on the screen scurrying along a bumpy trail. He wheezed, dragging his bare feet. He was obviously injured, the filthy rags on his right shoulder dark with blood. The screen zoomed to follow as the man darted into the woods. Giant oaks swallowed the sun, a patchwork of shadows and light in the undergrowth.
At the time I remember thinking how lame this game was despite the graphics—no dragons, no monsters, nothing exciting whatsoever. Besides, I was slightly worried my mom would come in. The whiskey she likes usually puts her to sleep on the couch, but you never know. Luckily, most of the time, she doesn’t know when I pull an all-nighter.
Horse gallop thudded out of nowhere. Visibly trembling the grimy-looking man hesitated for a moment before thrashing his way through bushes and undergrowth. At the edge of the forest three riders in chainmail and helmets came into view, their chestnut horses whinnying and covered in sweat. The clang of metal sliced the air as the men drew swords.
At that moment my cell rang.
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About the author:
Annette Oppenlander writes historical fiction for young adults. When she isn’t in front of her computer, she loves indulging her dog, Mocha, and traveling around the U.S. and Europe to discover amazing histories.
“Nearly every place holds some kind of secret, something that makes history come alive. When we scrutinize people and places closely, history is no longer a number, it turns into a story.”
Event Giveaway
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com eGift Card or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
The handsome Earl of Summersby may just be the most eligible bachelor in London, but has no interest in a wife. As a member of the Brotherhood, Bennett Haile is far more vested in his undercover duties for the crown and protecting the Queen from would-be assassins. For now he has the perfect tool with which to lure out the villains—a young woman with an uncanny likeness to the queen.
London, 1838
The handsome Earl of Summersby may just be the most eligible bachelor in London, but has no interest in a wife. As a member of the Brotherhood, Bennett Haile is far more vested in his undercover duties for the crown and protecting the Queen from would-be assassins. For now he has the perfect tool with which to lure out the villains—a young woman with an uncanny likeness to the queen.
The spirited Evelyn Marington is about to live out every country girl's dream—becoming royalty overnight. Under the tutelage of the arrogant Earl of Summersby, she'll have to fool the entire court that she is, in fact, the queen. But as danger threatens from every side, Bennett realizes that his lovely little protegé isn't just placing her life in his hands... She's stealing his heart.
GUEST POST
What the Historical Romance should never be
Historical romance is arguably the most romantic of the romance genre books. It’s all about the fantasy and who doesn’t love the idea of the fancy gowns swirling about the ballroom. But there is a reality in the actual history that most of us authors gloss over so as to not strip the romance right out of our stories. So without further ado, here is my list of top 5 things you don’t include in an historical romance
Food – every had food poisoning from like a badly washed salad at your favorite restaurant? Imagine a time when we had no refrigeration to keep our food. There was little waste so they made stews and soups out of every part of the animal – not that there is anything inherently wrong with that, but for many the thought of eating cow brains in their stew is just plain icky. Remember that scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where Kate Capshaw is having such a difficult time at dinner? Needless to say most mentions of food in historical romance novels are brief mentions.
Hygiene – no one wants to think about how little people actually bathed back in the day. Or that they went around wearing far too many layers of clothing without the benefit of air conditioning. And there was no deodorant or toothpaste. Just think about that for a minute… Yeah, so not romantic.
Bathroom stuff – likewise there are the inevitable bathroom issues. They had chamber pots, yes, but what did they do with the contents? Eww, don’t even want to think about it. So for the most part in our books there might be a brief mention of someone needing to relieve themselves, but that’s pretty much it.
History that has no bearing on the story - If a reader wants to know about history, they’ll read a non-fiction book. They pick up an historical romance to read a romance, primarily. They want the fantasy part of the history, not necessarily the grit and reality of it. So it doesn’t matter how cool the research tidbit you found is, if it doesn’t relate to the characters, it doesn’t belong in your book.
Too much historical reality – especially when it came to life for the lower class or women. Women were seen as property, they couldn’t inherit money, they couldn’t vote. They married whomever their parents told them to marry and very few of them ever got an opinion about anything. But that doesn’t really work very well for the whole romance novel fantasy. So we find those few women who stood up to convention and fought for something different, something better and we write about them.
What about you, what would you never want to see in an historical romance?
EXCERPT
“Stand and walk to the other side of the room,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I must evaluate how you walk.”
She gaped at him. “How I walk?”
“Do try and keep up, Miss Marrington. People will be watching.”
“Is there something wrong with how I walk?”
“Your walk is ...” No. In truth, she walked with an unconscious grace and agility he found charming. There was nothing studied about her movements, nothing calculated. She managed to be both completely natural and totally bewitching, which was entirely beside the point. “Your walk is unstudied.”
“Are you staying I'm clumsy?” Her gaze sparked with indignation, but perhaps a flash of pain as well. “I am well aware that I lack the grace and cultivation of my older sisters, but I assure you I am not some clumsy oaf who can't be trusted to walk into a room.”
He drew in a deep breath, praying for patience. This was why he wasn't yet married. This was why he was absolutely the wrong man for this job.
“Your mannerisms must match hers,” he said tightly.
She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before standing, then walked across the room. It was not a clumsy or awkward gait, but not regal either.
“No.” He shook his head. “Try it again but slower, yet with more purpose.”
She crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “This is ridiculous.”
He allowed his gaze to linger on her tempting curves before stepping over to her. “Miss Marrington, do you want to do this assignment or not?”
Her mouth opened, then she paused and her brows slanted down in anger. “My Lord, I realize that you are an Earl and of relation to our Queen and our Society deems you more important than I. Perhaps they are even correct; however, it would seem to me that you,” she jabbed a finger into his chest, “need me more than I need you for this assignment. Thus far you have insulted my family, the way I walk and my hair. You are arrogant and rude and sorely lacking in manners.” Her hands fisted on her hips accenting their roundedness.
How was it that this little slip of a woman shoed no fear of him? He’d frightened women merely by walking into their drawing room. And here, he was being a bully—and for good reason—to Evelyn Marrington, but she was quite obviously not afraid of him. He couldn’t help but find that both infuriating and alluring.
“You have obviously decided that I do not possess the intelligence nor grace to succeed in this charade. I will not stand for this sort of treatment. I should like a carriage to bring me home on the morrow. Good day, Lord Somersby.” She turned and marched from the room.
He watched her go in complete disbelief. No one had ever spoken to him in such a way. Arrogant and rude! She was the only lacking in manners. This entire assignment echoed with idiocy. Ellis had claimed his cousin amiable and clever, neither of which Bennett had seen. All he had witnessed was her sharp tongue.
Damned if he didn’t find her sass alluring as hell. All the more reason to send her back home and tell Potterfield she refused to participate. Bennett couldn’t be blamed for this failure if she was the one who walked away. This would work out perfectly. He’d get to continue with the Brotherhood and not be distracted by the ridiculously attractive and fiery-tongued Miss Marrington. It would almost be worth completing the assignment just to see if she was as passionate in other areas. Almost.
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About the author:
National Bestselling author, Robyn DeHart's novels have appeared in the top bestselling romance and historical romance lists. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages. Her historical romantic adventure series, The Legend Hunters, were not only bestsellers, but also award-winners, snagging a Reader's Crown and a Reviewer's Choice award. She had three releases in 2013 and 2014 will see four more, all set in the popular historical romance Regency and Victorian eras. Known for her "strong dialogue and characters that leap off the page" (RT Bookclub) and her "sizzling romance" (Publishers Weekly), her books have been featured in USA Today and the Chicago Tribune. A popular writing instructor, she has given speeches at writing conferences in Los Angeles, DC, New York, Dallas, Nashville and Toronto, among many others.When not writing, you can find Robyn hanging out with her family, husband (The Professor) a university professor of Political Science and their two ridiculously beautiful and smart daughters, Busybee and Babybee as well as two spoiled-rotten cats. They live in the hill country of Texas where it's hot eight months of the year, but those big blue skies make it worth it.
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