. . . will you choose?
Hmmm . . .
Like this one, this gorgeous illustration evokes for me the interval in The Worst Duke in the World when it seems that Jane and Anthony may be parted forever. (Spoiler alert: they won’t be!) There’s something about her expression here — with its fierce intelligence and determination — which is very Jane-like. :)
The gifted artist is Caroline Garcia; more about her and her work here.
To learn more about The Worst Duke in the World, read Chapter 1, listen to an audiobook sample, and check out some of the nice things people are saying about it, click here.
Want to see its Pinterest board, filled with inspirations, allusions, Easter eggs and assorted amusements? Click here.
My childhood in a nutshell. ♥
The artists who created this glorious illustration are Trindles & Read. More about them here.
I am NOT a bibliophobe, a biblioklept, a biblioriptos, or (shudder) a biblioclast . . .
. . . although I AM a bibliophile and, I hope, a bibliosopher. :)
How we authors feel when a manuscript is DONE and off to the copyeditor . . .
. . . In my case, The Redemption of Philip Thane. :)
An excellent word!
I used it with pleasure in The Laird Takes a Bride, the second book in my Penhallow Dynasty series. Here, my hero Alasdair, who’s been forced into marriage with my heroine Fiona, has come grumpily into her morning-room with the express purpose of picking a fight:
“It’s stupid to quarrel about taste. I prefer furnishings that are less ornate.” Fiona pulled away the tartan shawl that had remained tucked over her, revealing a simple day-dress made in a singularly beautiful shade of lavender that even in his peppery temper Alasdair had to acknowledge as strikingly flattering to his wife’s pale complexion, dark-lashed blue eyes, silvery-blonde hair, even her slim figure. Why, she almost looked —
She almost looked —
For a moment there, he had thought her lovely.
Don’t be daft, man, he told himself harshly. Such sentimental thoughts were a trap, the chain around the ankle that jerked and tightened and dragged you down into the depths.
His dog Cuilean lifted his head and fixed those intelligent eyes on him, ears pricked as if questioningly, and Alasdair said shortly to Fiona:
“Is that a new gown, madam?”
There was a silence, during which Alasdair fought within himself. Why was he being so churlish? He ought to tell her how bonny a dress it was. But it felt like he would be giving away something he wanted — needed — to hang onto.
For more info about The Laird Takes a Bride, including ordering options and to check out some of the nice things people are saying about it, click here.