So in my next book, The Laird Takes a Bride, there’s a reference to bagpipes which I gotta say is one of the single best lines I’ve ever written.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t work to share it out of context. Which probably makes this a totally unfair teaser. But the good news is that The Laird Takes a Bride arrives this summer! I’m so looking forward to sharing more about it with you as we get closer.
In the meantime, you can preorder the Kindle edition here. (More info about other formats coming soon.)
I’ve just read a fantastic post by Mary Balogh on why she writes historical romance; it speaks eloquently to me as both a reader and a writer.
She begins by saying, “I believe in love. I believe in the power and ultimate triumph of love.”
And why historical romance in particular?
“Readers like to be transported away from their everyday lives. They like to be taken to a different world to read about people who are essentially like themselves. Past eras often seem more romantic than our own. Regency England, for example, conjures marvelous visual images of fashions for both men and women that were perhaps the most attractive and sexy of any age; of stately country homes and the spacious parks surrounding them; of horse-drawn carriages bowling along the king’s highway; of couples waltzing at grand balls in the light of dozens of candles in the crystal chandeliers overhead; of enchanted evenings strolling the lantern-lit walks of Vauxhall Gardens in London; of picnics and garden parties in rural surroundings; of drives in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour. The possibilities are endless, all coming with an aura of the romance of a bygone age. It is a happy illusion, of course. Most of us would not want actually to live in Regency England or any other bygone era, but we are quite happy to enjoy it from the comfort of our twenty-first century homes. That is the magic of reading.”
Click here to read the full post.
Me, after I’ve finished a book I totally love.
A fantastic word for a writer of historical romance.
Here it is in You May Kiss the Bride, during a scene in which my heroine, Livia, despite being ravenously hungry, still manages to display her good manners:
Gabriel sat in the Phelps Tea Room and watched without comment as Miss Stuart, in a very genteel but methodical way, consumed eight dainty ham sandwiches, three devilled eggs, and most of a plate of pastries. When finally she paused, and took a sip of her tea, he held out the plate.
“Would you care for another raspberry tart, Miss Stuart?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she sighed, sounding very happy.
Gabriel was startled at the transformation from the tense, tightly strung young lady he had met in the Pump Room to this . . . this relaxed, almost languorous girl who looked like she would at any moment begin to purr with satisfaction. It was difficult to believe that half an hour ago she was practically snarling at him and calling him a beast.
Of course, we all know how it’s easier to be agreeable on a full stomach . . .
This snippet appears in Chapter 6, but if you like, you can read all of Chapter 1 here.
Quite a good description of my usual day.
More about the artist, Grant Snider, here.
Words to live by.
Some days are just like that, you know?
Mama floof and baby floofs. (Flooves?)
A terrific word for a romance writer, don’t you think?
I used it a variant of it in You May Kiss the Bride:
Clearly, there was more to that exasperating man than only stubborn arrogance. Livia began to feel regretful at parting from him two days ago in the Pump Room with what she had to now admit was outright churlishness. But he had bowed over her hand with such cool remoteness, and had given no indication as to his plans.
Oh, she must, and would, thank him as soon as next she saw him! She would be very proper and aloof, of course, but gracious. Not unlike an empress acknowledging a worthy gesture from a subordinate. That would be the ideal note to strike. And she would not, absolutely would not, lose her temper.
Caught up in this beguiling vision of herself, Livia jumped when Mrs. Penhallow rapped her knuckles on the table, and turned startled eyes to her hostess.
“I daresay you had a very good reason for ignoring me,” said the old lady with withering sarcasm. “Perhaps you were wondering what the dessert course will be?”