Icefire!

Icefire from Ellora's Cave

Shapeshifters rock!

Order Page: http://Icefire.notlong.com

ISBN: 9781419916410



At the Pure Wildfire concert...



Gina opened her eyes, right on to the speculative, sharp gaze of Ryan
Hawthorne. He wouldn’t be able to see her, not really, she assured
herself.

She looked away but she’d felt the contact and it couldn’t be undone.
She felt naked, open, just for a moment. That was why she avoided
meeting eyes unless she had shielded herself, prepared for the
encounter. Whoever said eyes were windows on the soul was right. She
looked deep inside Ryan Hawthorne and caught an amazed, vulnerable,
open soul for a second, or perhaps even less. Then he turned away, his
whole body pivoting in the other direction and took his microphone from
a roadie. Just an illusion. It had to be...

Later

Ryan held out his hand to her. She swallowed and looked up at him.

His expression now was completely controlled, the deeper emotions
masked, a query in his eyes. She could refuse him but that would be the
act of a coward. And besides, something inside her urged her to go to
him, as he evidently wanted.

Behind him, Splinter played on. Taking a deep breath, she leaned up and
took his hand. “Come up,” he said softly, so softly she couldn’t hear
him, only follow the shape of his sensual mouth.

One of the security staff lifted her and she scrambled over the low
barrier separating them, sliding from the edge into his arms.

He released her as soon as she’d steadied but not before she felt his
astonishing steely strength. Who would have imagined such a
slender-seeming man would be so strong? When she looked closer, she saw
muscles bunch as he turned away, his hand in hers, to lead her to the
stools.

Time slowed, as he seated her next to the guitarist, then began the
song. She knew many bands did this, drew a member of the audience into
a song and her seat was conveniently close. But however much she told
herself This is a gimmick, a device, she couldn’t separate her
professional self from the vulnerable woman underneath.

She tried not to listen, tried to keep the smile fixed on her face, the
blank expression in her eyes. But she couldn’t. Ryan had evoked Maria
perfectly in the song—her fragility, her gentleness, her touching
naïveté. Her image—slight, blonde, ethereally pretty—swam before Gina’s
eyes.

Damn, when had she started to cry? Tears spilled over her eyes and ran
down her cheeks, two big, fat tears the spotlight would only emphasize.
The man taking video shots for the band knelt in front of them and she
knew the camera would magnify her distress tenfold. She couldn’t use
her trick of squeezing her eyes tightly closed, because anyone watching
the video would see it and know. So she forced her sight past the tears
and gazed at Ryan. Right into his eyes.

Shock lanced between them.



When Ryan Hawthorne and Gina Russo meet, the heat between them burns
hot and raw. But an event five years before set them apart and it lies
between them now.

Ryan Hawthorne is the charismatic vocalist for the band Pure Wildfire
with the world at his feet. He’s also a shape-shifting firebird more
than a hundred years old, torn apart by the death of his lover. Maria
died of a drug overdose but Ryan always suspected foul play. Now he’s
back in New York to find out.

Gina always blamed Ryan for her stepsister Maria’s death, but when she
meets the devastatingly sexy singer she finds Ryan is the embodiment of
all her wet dreams, and she’s had plenty.

They set each other’s worlds ablaze but they have to find Maria’s
killers before they get to Gina.

Or Ryan will lose her, too.



Icefire from Ellora's Cave

Shapeshifters rock!

Order Page: http://Icefire.notlong.com

ISBN: 9781419916410

New release!

I have two new releases this week (greedy, ain't I? lol!)

The first is TOPAZ DELIRIUM from Loose-Id

Someone is killing vampires with a new drug and
the only people who can discover the source are Svetlana Yevchenko, top model and Jasper, head and chief designer of the House of Lebec and the head of Dept 57 in France.

Svetlana wants Jasper, and he wants her. But they can never give in because Jasper is cursed and through all the lives he remembers no woman has survived the curse. An affair might weaken their attraction to each other – or it might strengthen it.

Svetlana is the greatest temptation Jasper has ever tried to resist but their relationship can never be more than sex. As the latest Dept 57 assignment throws them together, their resistance weakens to the point of total, steaming breakdown. The more they fight the attraction, the deeper it gets.
But when the assignment is over they must face their fate. Again.

Jasper nodded and gazed down at his plate. “Is there something wrong with the food? It came from my usual service which is generally reliable but it seems to taste of very little tonight.”

Svetlana forced herself to lift a morsel to her mouth and concentrate on tasting. This was the first real meal she’d had all week, so she should really have more appetite. “It’s fine. Better than fine.”

He considered his plate, his head tilted to one side, his invariable habit when thinking about something. “Perhaps I’m not in the mood for it.” He shoved his plate aside and reached for his glass. “It gives me pleasure to see you eat, though. So many models never eat at all.” He toasted her, lifting his glass. His lips quirked in a smile though the look in his eyes remained distant. “I’ll design for real women like you. With curves.”

“Isn’t that more difficult?”

He shrugged and tilted his chin up in an arrogant gesture. “I am Jasper Lebec.” He grinned, deliberately ruining the effect. “I can do it. It’s true that breasts disturb a drape or break up a sweep of pattern but I’ll make breasts fashionable if I can.”

She forced another mouthful down. “So why do you think many women have breast augmentations?”

“A different market. Less refined.” His gaze sharpened. “You haven’t had such an abomination, have you?”

She laughed. “No. You’d have noticed, in any case.”

He put his empty glass down on the fine linen tablecloth. “So I would. I see you naked several times every season. But it’s just business. In the atelier you’re another shape to challenge me, that’s all.” He opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything. Abruptly he got up from the table and tossed his crumpled napkin down by his plate. “Would you like some dessert? It’s something with raspberries, I believe.”

Svetlana recognized the gesture; Jasper was getting too close to revealing his true feelings, so he changed the subject and broke eye contact. Her naked body disturbed him, did it? Was it that, or the thought of her stripping for Hugo Berthier? Tough shit. He was sending here there, after all so he’d have to suck it up. “I don’t want any dessert. You’ll have to take my word for it, Jasper. I don’t starve myself, I’m just not hungry tonight.” She couldn’t take any more.

She had to leave. She wanted Jasper so much, she was wet and ready for him already, dampening her panties under the severe blue skirt. Her thoughts were too disturbing, too close to the surface and Jasper’s powerful Talent would discern them before too long if she didn’t leave now.

“Too late,” he murmured, so quietly she had to strain to hear him. He turned around to face her.

The expression in his silver eyes was nothing like she was used to. Hot, passionate and desirous. Needy. He spoke to her, every word throbbing with sincerity. “Every movement you make is agony to me. I want you so much, it hurts me every time I look at you.” He paused and she stared back, stunned. “What, you can’t take the truth? Shall I send for your car?”

She shook her head. “Why, Jasper?”

“Why what? Why do I want you? God knows.”

“Jasper?” If they wanted each other, if he’d wanted her all this time she’d wanted him, why hadn’t he said anything? Was he afraid of commitment, perhaps? She had no idea. She couldn’t read him unless he let her in, and his face remained impassive apart from the fire in his eyes.

He lifted his hand, then dropped it again, the movement jerky, so unlike his usual elegant, considered gestures. “Every time I look at you I want you with a despair that eats at my soul.”

“Why haven’t you come to me before?” She wasn’t hearing this, she couldn’t be.

He shook his head. “Too many reasons. But, Svetlana, we can have tonight.”

Temporarily bereft of words, she stared at him.

“Tomorrow you begin an assignment I’m still not sure I should give to you. Times are desperate but I won’t send any of my agents into a situation they can’t handle. You won’t let me read you, you’ve kept your barriers hard up against me and I won’t force it.”

“You could,” she said, like him, in English.

“Yes. But I won’t. So tell me and be honest. Do you want this assignment? Should I send someone else?”

She met his gaze frankly, needing to meet honesty with honesty. “Read me, Jasper. Learn the truth.” He shook his head, watching her, his eyes wary. “Then I’ll tell you. No, I don’t want it but yes, I can do it. And Berthier has the hots for me, you made sure of that by throwing me in his way every opportunity you had. I’m the best person for the job.”

“You’re right.” He swallowed, his throat pale against the mandarin collar of his black jacket. “But I don’t want you to do it. Nothing about this assignment feels good. But if you take it, we can have this.”

“So you’re giving me one night of bliss before snatching it away?” Anger, never far away when she dealt with Jasper, swelled within her.

“It has to be. Understand that, Svetlana. If we take tonight we can’t have anything else.” He stayed where he was but turned his hand, palm up and held it out to her. “Neither of us can think straight for this desire we have for each other. It’s a physical thing, no more. Maybe it’s an inconvenience we can rid ourselves of tonight. Can you do that?”

Could she? Take this and work out her obsession with Jasper Lebec in one night? She had to try or she’d go mad.

Svetlana took the step that separated them and put her hand in his. His warmth surprised her. He usually felt so cold when he touched her but now his heat enveloped her.

Now it was his turn.

He moved with a fluidity that shocked her, releasing her hand only to wrap his arms about her and take her lips in a welcome kiss.

Earlier in the day Jasper’s kiss had been punishingly savage but this time he cherished her, parting her lips with his tongue to stroke and seduce, taking her more thoroughly with that one kiss than anyone had ever done before with his whole body. His tongue caressed hers and moved on to stroke the roof of her mouth, exploring her.


Topaz Delirium from Loose-Id
Order Page: http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=687
ISBN: 978-1-59632-664-4

I'll tell you about the other release tomorrow, when I have the order page!

Following up on the details.

When writing a historical romance, it's important to follow up on the details. So if you have a plausible, but unusual plot, you have to follow it up. Less the facts of the time, more the manners, and expectations of the age - the zeitgeist. That's where novelists often make their biggest mistakes.
I write in the Georgian era, and here are a few of the mistakes commonly made. Plots that I've seen that either need a bit more work to make plausible or wouldn't work at all.

1. The duke marrying the governess. No. Just no. A gentleman, a high-ranking member of the upper middle class, yes, but if a duke marries a governess, he can expect to be socially shunned.

2. Speaking of which - disregarding the fact that society will shun you. Better than imagining it's no problem. This didn't mean not being invited to a few parties, it meant being cut off from everything that made the peerage what it was. Being an aristocrat in this era was similar to being the Chairman of the Board or Senior Executive in a big-ass corporation these days. Not exact, but near enough for the analogy to work. Being cut off meant having your peerage disbarred. 'Companies,' that is, other peers, the network of financial organisation, contacts and goodwil that make a company work, all gone. So yes, it happened, but it also could lead to the total destruction of the 'company' or peerage, and all the structures that depended on it for their living. Estate workers, farm workers, lawyers, servants, industries - everything.
If a man's word couldn't be trusted, then the structure collapsed, too. The code of honour meant something.

3. Another situation - the hero and heroine blithely assuming they could have a 'temporary' marriage, that they could divorce or have the marriage annulled after a trial period. Never, ever. Divorces involved an Act of Parliament, and wherever the fault lay, usually put the woman beyond the pale. Annulments were so rare as to be discounted, and when they did occur, they were for legitimate reasons - and those reasons were rigorously tested. Again, yes, it happened, rarely, but the consequences were dire, especially for the ex-wife.

Consummation has never been valid grounds for an annulment of a marriage. There isn't one case of a marriage annulled from non-consummation in the Georgian era. An annulment on the grounds of the male's impotence could be invoked, but the male's impotence had to be tested, by putting him in a room with several sexy women who would try to arouse him. One doubtful case in the late Georgian era is all we've been able to find. But no, annulment for non-consummation never existed in the Georgian era and wasn't valid grounds.

4. The duke (or marquess or earl) marrying a courtesan and society forgiving and forgetting her notorious past. Never, ever happened. Once a courtesan, always a courtesan. If a peer did something that foolish, then not only him but his children would be tainted. Not to say it didn't happen in a more discreet fashion (I used this loophole in "A Chance To Dream"). But no, such a woman would never, ever be openly acknowledged or accepted in the fashionable salons which were the powerhouses of the time.

5. A woman dressing in bifurcated garments, under or over her clothes. Until the Victorian era, no bloomers or knickers or panties (except for titillation). From a practical pov, imagine trying to pee in one of the primitive toilets or chamber pots of the time, holding voluminous skirts out of the way and trying to hold a pair of panties down as well? And if a woman dressed in male clothing, or rode astride, she would probably be locked away as a lunatic. Menfolk could and did get rid of inconvenient females that way.

6. Women who refuse to marry a man after she has slept with him, on the grounds that "he didn't say he loved her." After she'd lost her virginity, she could well be pregnant and to deny a child the chance of legitimacy carried severe, and permanent consequences for the child. Not the act of a heroine, in my book.

See what I mean? These things could happen, but you have to follow through on the consequences. You can't pick and choose, you have to accept the times as they were.
And what is most frustrating to me is that there are some great stories to be told if the consequences are followed. What happens when your mother is shunned as a Fallen Woman? Do you stick with her, or do you accept the offer of your stiff and proper Auntie Honoria, for her to take you into her household, bring you out into society and find you a husband? Can you turn your back on your much beloved mother? But no, many writers assume that society was as flexible then as it is now, that its mechanism is much the same. It isn't, and it wasn't.
Another reason why I admire people who write in past ages, and who recreate a society long gone. I only write about times 300 years ago, but already it's alien to many readers.

And don't expect your editor to pick up your historical inaccuracies. Editors don't pick up those errors. They aren't there for that, and usually they will question a few points, but editors aren't often history experts, too. They might be editing a variety of books, from paranormals to sweet Inspirationals, to cowboy romances, and they aren't experts on that, and most publishing houses don't expect them to be.

Seductive Secrets

Well I don't want to outface Nicola's news, I couldn't if I tried, but I did just get the most beyoootiful cover art for my June release, "Seductive Secrets," the first in the Secrets Trilogy.
Georgian England again, and all three of these books take place outside London, two in country houses and one in a small town.
Isobel has a lot of secrets her new husband, Lord Cardington, doesn't know until after the marriage. But Nick loved her years ago, and has come back for more, so he thinks he's prepared for what lies ahead. He isn't.
I put a bit of the new technology to mid-Georgian England in each book, so the first book has a bit of the agrarian revolution, the new developments in agriculture. It was so enjoyable to write and I'm so pleased the book is coming out. And with such a lovely cover, too. Vivat Anne Cain!

Another one gone

Sadly, it looks as if another epublisher has gone. Dark Eden Press is closing because of the illness of its proprietor. My best wishes to Debra and everyone orphaned by the closure.
Again, sadly, it's given the detractors and the gossips another stick to beat the epresses with. I've been epublished since 2000, and I've seen the constant criticisms and detractions, and like most generalisations, while there's a nugget of truth in it, there's also a lot of misinformation.
You can't any longer tar all epublishers with the same brush - if you ever could. Many are print publishers as well, which should more accurately bring them the title of small press. And some are definitely larger and more stable than others. They just aren't the same thing any more.
And risk. Every venture carries some risk. A risk assessment of the publishing industry is no different. When I was at business school, many years ago, risk assessment was a whole discipline to itself. and it still is. You can put numbers to it. I'll show you in the next entry. Everyone going for publication should really take the risk assessment into account, but they don't.
That's why I don't intend to send work to any more smaller of the small presses, if I can help it. But it took me a long while to get here and when I look back, I can see, much to my surprise, a career structure. Who'd have thunk it?

Tittle-tattle

They're at it again.
Last year, when Triskelion Publishing got into difficulties, it was astounding to see how the gossips gathered around. What should have been a private author loop leaked like a sieve and what was always thought to be private ended up on public blogs.
And the vultures gathered around the corpse.
In truth, the company went down because the print program was a failure. Too much investment, too fast, led to cash meltdown and that was that.
But if you read the blogs you would have thought it went down because of incompetence and selfish behaviour by the owners. It wasn't. If they had made a roaring fortune from the print books, they would be laughing now, and they could have shaken off the critics. But the money ran out. At least they went bankrupt. In the past, epublishers just melted away in the night and the poor author rarely got closure.
The company has gone now, and remains as a Grave Lesson.
Now it's starting up again with another company. These things come in cycles, it seems.
I know nothing about the company currently under the spotlight. I've never had books there, never submitted any, but it is one of the longer-established epublishers and it has its way of working. Leaked emails are appearing all over theplace, to be lampooned and cut apart, when the emails weren't even meant for them. I have no bone to pick this time. I'm completely neutral.
But in the wake of every company that dies, whether it is because of its own faults or something else, it leaves a slew of bitterly disappointed and upset authors.
However, this is a symptom of market development. It really is. The smaller companies will either find themselves a niche or they will die, taken over or blown to the four winds. Bigger companies are venturing into epublishing and it's beginning to show.

New contract!

I've been offered a contract from Ellora's Cave on the third Pure Wildfire book, MOONFIRE. I am so pleased that Jake's story will be out!
Jake is a sweetie, but nobody's fool, and when he returns to his home town of Springwater, Texas, he finds more than he bargained for, and a woman who can stand up to him.

A Night Out with Pure Passion

What a treat to put that subject in my mail!

I attended the Pure Passion presentation last night and I took my daughter as my guest.
First I have to thank Rosemary for the invitation. What a lovely night it was!
We arrived by train from Warrington and, as always, I entered Manchester Town Hall with a fair bit of awe. The Town Hall was built in the era when Manchester was the wealthiest city in the world, sometimes called Cottonopolis because it was the centre of the cotton industry. The Town Hall was built in the high Victorian Gothic style, embellished inside with murals, vaulted ceilings and grand staircases. It really is a wonderful sight. If you ever go to Manchester, the Town Hall and the Exchange are the two buildings that really express the grandeur and wealth of the time.
http://www.manchester2002-uk.com/buildings/town%20Hall.html
Gathered in the Conference Room were writers, editors, librarians and readers. What better combination of people could there be?
The presentation went very well, helped along by witty speeches by Jenny Haddon, Catherine King and special guest Jan Etherington, TV scriptwriter and all-round good egg. Fashion notes I'll leave to someone else, except to say that my daughter looked her usual astonishing self.
A very enjoyable celebration of romantic fiction, and a fitting tribute to the genre. I'm looking forward to the exhibition in June at the Manchester Central Library, another tribute to the breathtaking confidence of the Victorian occupants of the city.

Revisionism

Recently, I've been rewriting books I wrote before and a few things occurred to me. "Sunfire" is heavily rewritten, for example, but that was for a new publisher (Ellora's Cave) who had different requirements to the book's first publisher. I really thought the book was improved by the rewrite. But there wasn't much time before the original and the rewrite.
I'm currently going through edits for "Devonshire," the second book I had published and I'm finding myself less inclined to make any big changes.
Why? Because I wrote it long enough ago for me to have been a different writer then. I did things in that book I wouldn't do today, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm better now - just different. I know what I was trying for when I wrote it, and it isn't always what I go for today. My concerns have changed, my writing style has changed.
And I revised "The Chemistry of Evil" ready to present it to publishers. I was happy to revise that because it is part of a series (Dept 57) that I'm still writing today. It gives me a chance to check the continuity. But I deliberately held back on heavy rewriting. I added a scene that I thought improved the story, but it's only a little one, and kept other things I wasn't entirely sure about, but I was then.
So where does revisionism stop and improving start?

The RNA's best male celebrities

In a fun poll earlier this year, I voted for my favourite male celebrities, along with most of the other members of the RNA (Romantic Novelists' Association). So here are the results. What do you think about our choices?

The top ten male celebrities voted the Perfect Romantic Hero were:

1. Johnny Depp

2. Daniel Craig

3. Sean Bean

4. Richard Armitage

5. Hugh Jackman

6. Colin Firth

7. Alan Rickman

8. Pierce Brosnan

9. George Clooney

10. David Tennant


A second poll, taken by members of the RNA bravely admitting to being ‘over a certain age’, voted for male celebrities over fifty who’ve ‘still got it’. Remarkable for his appearance on both polls, Pierce Brosnan took the crownfor the over fifties by a huge margin.


The top ten Over-Fifty Perfect Romantic Heroes were:

1. Pierce Brosnan

2. Harrison Ford

3. Ranulph Fiennes

4. Bill Nighy

5. Liam Neeson

6. Sam Neill

7. Sean Connery

8. Peter O’Toole

9. Clint Eastwood

10. Omar Sharif

Met By Chance

A new book out in time for Valentine's Day!

There’s more to this man than satin and lace.

After a serious riding accident, Perdita Garland is back in society. Unfortunately the first man who catches her interest, Charles Dalton, Marquis of Petherbridge, turns out to be a popinjay with a spoiled daughter in tow. And his equally spoiled sister is flirting with the same fortune-hunting suitor who almost cost Perdita her life. What’s a lady to do? Warn the marquis of the danger, of course.

Charles knows that English society finds his manners and dress astonishing, but they cover a man broken by a disastrous marriage to a faithless wife. Now a widowed father determined not to be fooled again, he is nevertheless charmed by Perdita and the steely strength of will under her fragile exterior. If only the lady would mind her own business.

But when his impulsive sister elopes and kidnaps his daughter, he finds himself wishing he had listened to the little busybody. And Perdita, feeling partly responsible for the disaster, boldly sets out to help him put things right.

Alone in a strange city with his lordship, plunged into danger, Perdita discovers there is more than meets the eye under the pampered skin of the marquis. There is strength, power…and passion beyond her wildest dreams.

Met By Chance, from Samhain Publishing
There's more to this man than satin and lace!
Order Page: http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/met-by-chance
ISBN:1-59998-892-5

A sharp exclamation, swiftly bitten off before the profanity entirely escaped his lips made her pay complete attention to the man by her side. “Good God, what is she doing here?” he cried, in a completely different tone of voice.

If she was less surprised, Perdita might have admired his skill in bringing his horses to a swift halt, and even more by his athletic leap from the vehicle, while his tiger scrambled to take the reins and climb up beside her. He started in the direction of the trees, a discreet gathering of oaks and sycamores, intended, she assumed, for added privacy, if needed. A flash of yellow drew her attention to a parasol wielded by a lady with her back to them, her hand resting on the arm of a man Perdita knew and had long wished she didn’t.

Berrington.

Charles was halfway to the trees before he realised just how improper his behaviour was. He didn’t stop walking, since the deed was done, but he owed Lady Perdita a deep apology for his behaviour. The trouble was, once he saw Millicent heading for the undergrowth he knew precisely what would happen next.

Exactly what happened last time. Only this time the result might not be as favourable as the last. His sister was an accomplished flirt, and didn’t know where to draw the line. The last time it had taken a fortune to quiet the budding scandal. Kissing a man in the corridor at the Opera they had, not unnaturally, been seen. She was at it again, and Charles intended to save himself considerable expenditure by finishing it now.

They were some way ahead, Millicent and the unknown man, and Charles hadn’t caught up with them by the time they disappeared between the trees. Only a flick of blue from Millicent’s gown betrayed their progression to the rear of the copse, where it was darkest. Charles quickened his stride, until he heard something behind him and turned to see the cause of it.

Damn! Lady Perdita was determinedly following. Why couldn’t she have waited in the phaeton? He would have to take her into his confidence now. Charles frowned when he saw her stumble on the rough ground. He had no choice. He waited for her.

Her breath came in short gasps, and it was only then he recollected her accident, the one that had broken both her legs. His agitation had driven the memory momentarily out of his mind. Lady Perdita had only been ambulant for a year, and still felt the effects of such severe injury. He’d felt as much last night, when he’d danced with her. He cursed his carelessness that made him forget.

She stared at him, getting her breath back. “Don’t stop! Go after them!”

Astonished, Charles held his arm out for her. “Come. We’ll go after them together. How did you know?”

She shot him a frowning look. “What else could it be but an impending scandal? Who is she?”

“My sister Millicent.” The hand on his sleeve tightened, but she did not use him as support, instead using it to help her quicken her stride.

They reached the trees. “Where are they?” he wondered. In the time he’d taken his attention from his sister to attend to Lady Perdita, Millicent had disappeared.

“Shh!”

All he could hear was her laboured breathing, slowly settling.

Then he heard a giggle, some way distant. “There!” He set off as quickly as he could, considering he had to consider someone else. He didn’t have to tow her, although his pace was probably too quick for her.

The trees here, past the sycamores, were old elms, interspersed with newer saplings, an artificial construct. Not being familiar with Hyde Park, he wasn’t sure where they led. Although reading his mind she said, “This comes out by the Serpentine. There will be people there.”

He let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “She’s a flirt,” he said, lightly, “but too young to have complete control of herself. I returned from France to find her deep in trouble, and having extricated her from that, I have no desire to see her do it again.”

“She could empty your coffers.”

So she realised just how he’d extricated Millicent last time. He glanced at Lady Perdita’s face, and saw total understanding there. He hoped he saw discretion, too. His irritation with his sister grew. He had been enjoying his drive, and enjoying her company. Millicent had ruined it. He dismissed his twinge of regret and plunged on, determined to do his duty.

Lady Perdita kept up, gamely refusing to lean on his arm, but determinedly keeping pace with him. When he glanced at her, he saw her lips tightly compressed, a sure sign of strain. He prayed the swift walk would do her legs no damage and fervently wished she’d remained behind.

They came out of the trees suddenly, a small copse, but artfully designed. People strolled this side of the bank of trees, enjoying the fine day and the view of the small river winding through the park. The sunlight blinded him and he blinked while his eyes adjusted to the altered circumstances. Then he spied his sister and the unknown man. She stopped walking, and faced her suitor, ready for his kiss.

Charles watched, aghast, as Millicent moved closer to her swain. How much this time? Two thousand? Three? More?

Then another couple moved out of the trees, heading for the Serpentine. Charles recognised them at once. The Earl and Countess of Ilford. Incorruptible leaders of society. If they saw this little scene, the game would be up, and his sister married to a man who was likely a fortune hunter, prepared to milk Charles and his family of everything he could get, and more importantly, make Millicent’s life a misery.

He felt a tug on his sleeve, and he turned, but without taking his attention from the awful scene being enacted before him. When he finally looked at Lady Perdita, the entreaty in her eyes startled him. Her hand curled behind his neck, and he bent towards her, rather than resist. Then he realised what she was about.

A distraction. Perfect.

Their lips met. Feeling hers part under his, Charles succumbed to the urges never far under the skin since he’d met her last night and clasped her closer, so she couldn’t get away even if she wanted to. Her mouth hot under his, he pushed her lips further apart with his own, so he could enter her with his tongue.

Exquisite hot, damp, warmth. Something he hadn’t felt for five years. The welcoming, feminine form moved closer, and his hands tightened on the warm silk of her gown, giving himself up to the kiss, forgetting everything but their startlingly intimate embrace.

When she gasped, he pushed his tongue between her lips in exploration, found the firm, sweet roof of her mouth and stroked it, as though caressing her bare skin with his hands. She was open to him, unknowingly offering all she could give, and if it weren’t for the time and the place he would be tempted to take it.

His own thoughts reminded him of the time and place. Allowing courtesy to dictate his actions, he slackened his grip, removed his tongue from her inviting mouth and finished the kiss with a quiet, closed mouth caress.

Charles allowed himself a moment to gaze at her, so close, her wondrous blue eyes as dazed as he knew his own must be. Then, brought back to the immediacy of the situation, he drew back and looked around him.

Munich

Today is the 50th anniversary of the Munich Air Disaster.
I'm a Manchester United fan, so I'm remembering today and raising a glass to the boys who died that day. And they were boys.
In case you don't know what I'm talking about, Manchester United is one of the best football teams in the world. And the richest in the UK. On this day in 1958, the United team of the day was the best in the country, packed with young hopefuls and on its way to winning the European Cup. The manager was Matt Busby and the team was called "The Busby Babes."
Until Munich.
On its way home, the plane didn't lift off, but crashed at the end of the runway. There were 44 passengers on board, and 23 died. Including 8 players. The manager was in intensive care for a while.
Ten years later, Manchester United won the European Cup under Sir Matt's managership but nobody has ever forgotten Munich.
So spare a minute tonight to remember them.

MET BY CHANCE - Out today!

The third book in the Triple Countess series.
Set in the glamorous age of Georgian England, Met By Chance is Perdita's story, the sister of Orlando, featured in A Chance To Dream.
For brand-new excerpts and buying, go here:
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/met-by-chance

Now read on:
There’s more to this man than satin and lace.
After a serious riding accident, Perdita Garland is back in society. Unfortunately the first man who catches her interest, Charles Dalton, Marquis of Petherbridge, turns out to be a popinjay with a spoiled daughter in tow. And his equally spoiled sister is flirting with the same fortune-hunting suitor who almost cost Perdita her life. What’s a lady to do? Warn the
marquis of the danger, of course.
Charles knows that English society finds his manners and dress astonishing, but they cover a man broken by a disastrous marriage to a faithless wife. Now a widowed father determined not to be fooled again, he is nevertheless charmed by Perdita and the steely strength of will under her fragile exterior. If only the lady would mind her own business. But when his impulsive sister elopes and kidnaps his daughter, he finds himself wishing he had listened to the little busybody. And Perdita, feeling partly responsible for the disaster, boldly sets out to help him put things right.
Alone in a strange city with his lordship, plunged into danger, Perdita discovers there is more than meets the eye under th pampered skin of the marquis. There is strength, power…and passion beyond her wildest dreams.

Met By Chance, from Samhain Publishing
There's more to this man than satin and lace!
Order Page: http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/met-by-chance
ISBN:1-59998-892-5

I hope you like! And get a shufti at that beautiful cover!

Resolutions

So much for daily blogging! I tried, I really did. But so many things happen and all at once I don't really believe January is actually over!
I have a new release tomorrow, which I'll blog about then, and January was a blast, with the release of "Sunfire." I absolutely loved writing that book and the reviews that have come in have blown me away. They like it. So I'm safe to keep writing for now!

Accuracy

I was pointed to an excellent post on historical accuracy in romances:
http://speakitsname.wordpress.com/2007/10/03/malibu-historical-barbie/
Go read. It's good.

Sales!

To celebrate the release of Sunfire, I went and did the tail-end of the sales yesterday.
I love the tail-end. When the sales first start, you go out and get the things you really want, or the things that are in short supply. Then, towards the end of the sales, one last trawl for those hidden gems, the piles of things that have been overlooked. I got some bandanas for 50p, silk ones, a great bargain, and now I've decided to keep my hair long for the time being, I need more hair stuff. And a skirt from Monsoon. I can rarely resist Monsoon so I have a new skirt to add to the beautiful new handbag I bought at the start of the sales. I've been stroking that bag for weeks. It's velvet, you see, very strokable!
Or is it just me and my inveterate bargain-hunting self? Perhaps nobody else likes them. Debenhams was packed with stuff, mostly clothes, so there is some indication of overbuying, or maybe they just didn't buy what people wanted. Oops. I had an interview for fashion buyer there many moons ago, but I didn't like the unwieldy corporate structure, so I went into advertising and marketing instead, which was huge fun but I always wondered what I'd missed!
I might just go back for that John Rocha skirt.......

Sunfire is out today!

Sunfire is out today!
I am really thrilled that this book is getting a new lease of life, and the others in the series will be released for the first time.
Rock musicians and shapeshifters, yum!
You can read an excerpt on my website, here;
www.lynneconnolly.com/sunfire.htm

and you can buy the book here:
http://Sunfire.notlong.com

Rock meets classical. Paranormal meets mortal. Will anybody get out
alive? The members of rock band Pure Wildfire are firebird
shape-shifters. Manager John Westfall will sacrifice anything for the
power they wield, even his daughter Corinne.

Corinne attracts Aidan in a way he's never known before. He'll do
anything to release her from Westfall's trap. He offers her marriage,
but Aidan wants more from Corinne — he wants her heart. And he'll give
her his in return.

Classical guitarist Corinne is desperate to escape her father's
control. She loves Aidan but craves her freedom — can she trust him to
give it to her? Can she trust the wild man of rock with her heart?
There's only one way to find out. Dive into the wildfire!

And here's a snippet to tempt you!
Aidan’s way out of the manor led past the rehearsal room, he made sure
of it. Maybe Corinne might still be there. Maybe he’d have another
chance with her.

The waves of grief hit him like a wall of icy water on his way past. He
couldn’t ignore such anguish, so he turned the knob and went in.

The door opened silently, like the door to Westfall’s office, gliding
on well-oiled hinges. She stood with her back to the door, head bowed,
shoulders shaking in quiet pain. Her sobs filled the room with sorrow.

At first, Aidan wasn’t sure which sister wept so heartbrokenly, but the
white clothes and the feel of the atmosphere soon told him. Guessing
her wish for privacy, he closed the door quietly before he walked
forward and placed his hands on Corinne’s shoulders to tell her she was
no longer alone.

“What is it? Is there anything I can do? Who made you cry like this?”

Her shoulders froze, tensing under his touch. She drew a deep breath
and her hand went up to wipe away the tears. Only then did she turn.

Her eyes, made even darker by her tears, gazed steadily into his. Her
cheeks were still wet but she’d composed her face before she turned to
him. She looked ethereally beautiful and heartbreakingly lovely. Aidan
caught his breath in wonder.

“You,” she said. “You made me cry.”

Let me know what you think!

The plagiarism debate

Except it's not a debate any more.
A best selling author of 100 books, Cassie Edwards, has been accused of lifting material from other books without acknowledging them.
http://www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com/index.php/weblog/cassie_edwards_extravaganza/
It's now become so bad that people are asking if there is a book where she didn't copy.
I've heard some authors saying that "we" should stick together to support the romance community. To my mind, there is no "we" in this case. Copying someone else's material and claiming it as your own is wrong. Whoever, whatever. The whole thing makes me very sad, but just because one person is doing this, doesn't mean it's okay to do it or that everyone who ever writes a book is the same as the next person who writes a book. If there's anything I've learned about writers, it's that there are no generalisations, the only common factor being the writing. Every writer has her own technique, every writer has his methods.
But this isn't a writing technique. It's a patchwork way of constructing a saleable product. Until somebody finds out. And they have found out.

Read me! Read me!

I've been thinking about promotion lately. I freely admit I'm not all that good at it. I can't do the "I am better than X, read me" post, or the "I am great, look at this!" one either.
I write what I love to write and I'm continually astonished that industry professionals and readers enjoy what I write, too. They even take me seriously.
Not to say that I don't, because I work very hard at it. But I didn't know I could do it. Then I read a book of mine that I've let "rest," before I edit it and think, "That's not half bad." And when I get a severe round of edits, it's almost a relief because I knew something was wrong and I couldn't quite work it out.
Which brings us back to promotion. Brits are notoriously bad at trumpeting their own worth, and I seem, in this regard at least, to be typically British. I cannot stand up and say I'm better than all the others, I can't even admit I'm a published writer sometimes. I still blush.
Daft? Yes, maybe. But a lot of writers do it because they feel they're socially inept, that they don't fit in, in a strange kind of way and perhaps they're used to it by the time they achieve any kind of success. Used to people thinking they're a bit odd, used to the pitying looks when they talk about their work.
After that, promotion can be a bit tricky. But I've found a way, one that works for me and doesn't leave me looking either obnoxiously pushy or stupidly self-effacing. Just about.
Of course, what I dream about, what every author dreams about, is being told that she is great, having people talk about their books and how much they enjoy them. Some achieve it, some naturally, most with a bit of artful promotion, the kind I don't seem to be able to do, or afford. Which is a bit strange because I did a stint in marketing and for the most part enjoyed it very much. But when it comes to my own wares, I'm not so brilliant.
Am I complaining? Not really, just indulging in a bit of wishful thinking.

Sucking

I'm definitely having an "I suck" day. Every now and then I get these, and I'm told others have them too. Days when you think that everything you do is doomed to failure, when you read what you've just done and you're convinced it doesn't work. It usually comes along with a rejection, but today, it's probably post-Christmas gloom.
It helps when others admit to feeling the same way but I've learned that you just have to wait it out.
Or is it just me? Or do I really suck?