Lynsay Sands | Boxing Day

Right about now you must all be breathing a heavy sigh of relief that Christmas is over and life for the most part--well other than New Years-- will get back to normal. Truly, Christmas is a lovely holiday, giving us the chance to spend time with family and—at least for me—visit with cousins and relatives who I only see two or three times a year (and I have great family so I love that.) But boy! Three days of non-stop visiting and eating and unwrapping gifts is very exhausting, don’t you think? I do. I’m about ready to drop.

And don’t even mention the Boxing day sales. Holy cow!! People get crazy grumpy out there on their hunts for bargains. It’s a very serious business that bargain shopping stuff. Do not get between another man or woman and their sale item. You could be placing your life at risk. And watch yourselves in the parking lots too! We saw an accident happen right in front of us. A fellow backed his pick up out of his parking spot and right into a car that had stopped to let another car get out of the way. I thought the drivers would come to blows. A little blonde gal was in the car that was hit. She got out and ran around, steam practically coming out of her ears and she didn’t particularly care that the fellow in the pick up was a big guy (just a small mountain really). LOL. I hate to admit it but watching her rail and wag her finger under the nose of the huge driver who was in the wrong made me smile and murmur to myself “You go girl! Give it to him.” She’s the kind of gal who would make a good heroine in a book.

After all the excitement and rush of Christmas though, all I want to do is curl up with a good book. I hope you’re all the same because I have one that came out boxing day. THE ACCIDENTAL VAMPIRE. It’s book #7 in the Argeneau series of vamps and one I had a lot of fun with. The heroine, Elvi, isn’t a blonde, but she’d have no trouble railing and wagging a finger at a mountain in the wrong either.

Elvi Black had been married, widowed and lost her only child when, at 57, she went on a vacation to Mexico with her best friend and woke up one morning to find she’d got more than Montezuma’s revenge. She was a vampire. Fortunately, Mabel was more than a fair-weather friend and helped Elvi through it. She got her home to Canada and even rallied together the population of their small town to help Elvi with this life change. For the next five years everything just sort of coasted along nicely, but then Mabel and some of their friends decided they needed to find a mate for Elvi, to keep her company in the long years ahead. A vampire would be preferable, but where to find a vampire boyfriend? The personal ads seemed the best answer. So they put out an ad and arranged for a bunch of the candidates to spend some time in their small town. That way they could give them the once over, and if they were suitable, see how they got along with Elvi. (Really, no one can embarrass you like your friends and loved ones, huh? LOL)

Unfortunately, advertising your status as a vamp is a no-no among immortals and that ad caught the attention of the council. They sent Victor Argeneau down to Elvi’s small town to check her out and drag her back for judgment—which with them can mean death. Victor doesn’t mind the job until he gets there and finds out he can’t read our Elvi. She’s his lifemate. Now he just has to convince her of that, win her hand over the other immortals who responded to the ad, and figure out a way to keep the council from demanding her head. . . Well, if he can keep her alive long enough to worry about that. Elvi’s managed to draw the ire of more than the council and someone’s trying to end her life before Victor can enjoy his happy ever after. Is life ever easy? (grin)

I truly did have fun with this book, and I hope if you get the chance to relax with Elvi and Victor, you enjoy it too. It should bring a smile to your holiday weary faces.

Lynsay

lynsaysands.net

Sherry Thomas | A very fine setting

After a voracious romance reader had read an advance copy of my debut historical romance, Private Arrangements, she emailed and told me that she loved the book, but being a devotee of the Regency era, she was surprised at how different and modern the turn-of-the-century setting felt. So when Fresh Fiction asked me to guest blog, I immediately thought of a whirlwind introduction to my favorite era for readers who might be unfamiliar with it.

La Belle Époque, aka fin de siècle, aka the (more loosely defined) Edwardian era, refers to a time period that comprises the last two decades of the nineteenth century and the first fourteen years of the twentieth century, until the outbreak of World War I.

Victoria still reigned in the 1890s, the decade in which both of my first two books are set. But oh what a different world she lived in from when she’d first ascended the throne.

Early in the nineteenth century, travel was still slow and laborious. But by the end of the century, you could cross the Atlantic in less than a week. And then, make the trip from London to Edinburgh in eight-and-half hours on the Scotch Special Express (later renamed the Flying Scotsman). The telegraph, the Victorian internet, brought news from far ends of the globe to the average man in his next day’s newspaper. The telephone was already in use in wealthier homes, as well as electricity—though with its cheap and abundant coal and still relatively cheap and abundant supply of indoor servants, Britain would not adopt central heating for many years to come.

Globalization, a word that seems synonymous with our era, was but an acceleration of the bustling international trade that was part and parcel of life at the end of the nineteenth century. Tea, sugar, and spices had always been imported. But with the increasing urbanization of Britain, the cities needed more food than could be supplied by the surrounding countryside, and so grains were imported from South America and meat from New Zealand. Raw materials, from cotton to copper to guano, sailed into Liverpool, Southampton, and the Port of London. And finished goods from industrial Britain sailed out in the cargo holds of her merchant fleets.

It was an era of rapid scientific and technological advancement. Vaccines for human use were manufactured. Karl Benz (sounds familiar?) had produced the first commercial automobile. Engineers and aviators had been experimenting with self-powered aircrafts since 1890 (the Wright Brothers made their flight in 1903). And in Private Arrangements, set in 1893, a minor character, who is an astronomer, had a paper of his mentioned, a paper that dealt with the capture of comets by Jupiter—a subject lifted right out of an actual paper published around that time.

In art, salon art reigned supreme, with William-Adolphe Bouguereau being the most admired artist of his day; but under the radar, the Impressionists were working hard. In literature, Dickens was long dead and Oscar Wilde, until he was sent to prison for homosexuality, was the most successful dramatist and one of the greatest literary celebrities. In the upper echelon, the fun-loving, amorous Prince of Wales set the pace, the aristocracy having long tired of his mother’s rather staid and stuffy society.

Women’s lives were becoming less restricted. The Suffragist Movement was in full swing. There were several residential colleges for women in England. Women, even married women, could now work outside the home and still remain respectable. The first woman doctor began practicing in Britain in 1865. The first English woman lawyer would not practice until after WWI, but elsewhere in the British Empire, the first woman lawyer was admitted to the bar in 1897 in Canada (the first American woman lawyer was admitted to the bar in 1892).

There are many things that I love about writing in this period. First, no need to invent heroes and heroines who bathed at abnormal frequencies—given the advances in home comfort and medical understanding, personal hygiene was rigorously practiced at the turn of the century, at least from the middle class on up.

Two, the dynamic life and increasing independence of women. I can write about an heiress who has set a goal for herself to become a duchess, and I do. But my heiress also runs her own large and complex enterprise, because after the Married Women’s Property Act of 1882, her legal identity was no longer subordinated to her husband’s after the wedding, and what was hers remained hers.

Three, although changes were coming fast and furious, there was still a tremendous formality and rigidity in people’s lives and many, many rules of etiquette. Innocent little things we take for granted today—holding hands in public with a boyfriend, wearing trousers—would have caused an uproar. This gives a wonderful tension for a writer to explore the sexual charge in a look, a word, a hand held a fraction of a second too long.

But don’t take my word for it. Experience the late Victorian/Edwardian era in romance for yourself. The following are my recommendations:

The Shadow and the Star, by Laura Kinsale. 1887. against the backdrop of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.

Beast, by Judith Ivory. 1902. Transatlantic voyage on a luxury liner. The best the Gilded Age had to offer.

The Proposition, by Judith Ivory. 1899. A reverse “My Fair Lady” story.

The Bridal Season, by Connie Brockway. 1890s.

And Then He Kissed Her, by Laura Lee Guhrke. 1893

Louisa Burton | BOUND IN MOONLIGHT

It’s December 26, Boxing Day, one of my all-time favorite holidays. Not that I know what it’s about—I looked it up in Wikipedia and I still don’t get it—but because it marks the winding down of the annual Chrismahanukwanzakah Festivity Vortex. Much as I love the holidays, this time of year tends to make me just a little bit tense. It always seems like there’s a whole lot more stuff to do than I have time for in my already harried life, and I have to admit to a sigh of relief when it’s all over but for New Year’s—which, in our upstate New York household, means champagne and cigars with our closest pals as we huddle under afghans in the “smoking lounge” (our screened-in back deck) until the wee hours. My favorite night of the year.

But back to Boxing Day. This year, there’s another reason to love it, and that’s because it’s the release date for Bound in Moonlight, the second book in my Hidden Grotto series. You can’t miss it in the bookstores—it’s the trade paperback with the bright, shiny gold cover and an oval inset of Bouguereau’s Evening Mood, a romantic Victorian masterpiece. I’ve posted this fabulous painting on my website, if you’d like to take a look. Click here and scroll down.

Being the artsy fartsy type, I love that Bantam is going with classic art for my covers. The paintings they’ve chosen are not only gorgeous, but sensual and evocative, which is perfect, given that the Hidden Grotto series is erotic fiction. Actually, “erotic fantasy” might be a better description, because the stars of the series are four beautiful immortal beings who live in a secluded French château and thrive on sexual energy: an incubus, a succubus, a djinni, and every reader’s favorite trend-loving satyr with the mythic endowments, boyish grin, and MySpace page: the now-legendary Inigo.

The readers who wrote to me about the first book in the series, House of Dark Delights, begged for more of Inigo, who accordingly gets a whole lot more “screen time” in Book #2. Bound in Moonlight is comprised of three closely linked stories set at the château, each of which explores a different aspect of enslavement—physical, psychological, and of course, sexual.

In the first story, “Tutelage,” which is set in 1902, Emily Townsend, an American “dollar princess” engaged to a land-poor British nobleman, walks in on her betrothed doing the wild thing with two women. At first appalled, then curious about what she’s been missing all this time, Emily takes our merrily lusty Inigo up on his offer to teach her a thing or two... or three.

We journey back to the Regency era for the second story. “Slave Week” takes place during an annual event in which moneyed libertines bid at auction for temporary “ownership” of beautiful women of their own class whom they may enjoy at the château in any manner they desire. Enter Caroline Keating, a ruined rector’s daughter just desperate enough to put herself on the block, only to be purchased by a brooding rakehell with a dark past whose depraved demands are meant to keep her at a distance.

Fast forward to the present day for “Magic Hour,” in which Isabel Archer (yes, she was named after the Henry James character), long enamored with the charismatic young lord of the château, makes a rare visit only to find a porn film being shot there—a film based on the events in the first story, “Tutelage.” (Read the book—it’ll all make sense.)

The world of the Hidden Grotto, which has become all too real to me, is explored in barking-mad detail on my website, louisaburton.com. I’ve just finished revamping it, so stop by and then drop me a comment here letting me know what you think of it—or of my blog, where I’m posting a column on writing and publishing called FictionCraft. And if you have any questions about what it’s like to write “intellismut,” as my friends call it, bring ‘em on!

Louisa

louisaburton.com
myspace.com/inigothesatyr
uncutandunexpurgated.com

Busy Busy Busy... stop and read a book?

As usual, I never had as much time as I expected to prepare for the holidays so it doesn't come as a HUGE surprise I'm still writing a holiday letter -- or to be honest, I just gave up on it. Trust me, you would have found it boring. And 11pm on Christmas Eve is a bit late to be creative. I still have presents to wrap. But Faye said I had to blog on Christmas and so I'll need to come up with something. I gave up on pithy and witty and I'm stuck with mundane. At book club this is the point we go around the room and talk about the best (or worst) book read this month. So I think I'll just go with books I discovered in the past two months.

One of the things I try to do is to read the books by an author who is either coming to town for a signing or is a book club guest. After all it's really rude to not at least taste a hostess's cooking. You don't have to like it, but you better take a bite to be polite. Unfortunately for my book budget (laughing), when I take a taste of a book, I usually have to find all the rest of the author's books so I can do a bit of feasting. So my latest books to develop into a massive book slurping adventure were Marie Bostwick's FIELDS OF GOLD and ON WINGS OF MORNING. I really enjoy historical fiction and Bostwick's duo are set in the early 20th century or the period after WWI and through WWII. Both are easy reads but packed with the tastes of history I enjoy. It's much better than falling asleep to the sounds of the History Channel's documentaries when I need a history fix even if I needed a box of tissues to mop up after I finished.

I've read Jodi Thomas off and on for several years, depending on my mood, but TEXAS PRINCESS is the middle of the "Texas Ranger" series and when I went back to find the rest, realized I had read them so I spent time doing a little revisiting and enjoying Texas of the late 19th century. Yes, it's changed a bit but not that much if you scratch the surface. TEXAS PRINCESS is the story of one strange kidnapping -- arranged by a father -- to save his daughter who isn't the delicate flower she pretends to be. Her April 2008 book is supposed to be different and engrossing so I can't wait to get a copy.

Tom wanted to meet his favorite author -- Clive Cussler -- when he came to town but after the last two Dirk Pitt misadventures I was willing to wait on a paperback copy of THE CHASE. But Mr. Cussler was SO entertaining I ended up reading Tom's extra copy of THE CHASE and found it refreshing. Not quite up to earlier Dirk Pitt adventures but MUCH better than the father - son collaborations we've suffered through recently. And yes, Tom got a copy signed to him plus a reading copy. The idiosyncrasies of readers, what can I say? I'm one too!

Other books I'd recommend are:
THE HELLFIRE CONSPIRACY by Will Thomas, a Victorian mystery

THE MEDUSA SEDUCTION by Cindy Dees, look for it only in December in the series romance section. It's a great ride of read!

DANCING WITH WEREWOLVES by Carole Nelson Douglas, watch out Las Vegas!

But I'd also like to say, circling back to the holiday and end of year stuff, Season's Greetings to all our friends and fellow readers. May 2008 be filled with great books, delicious reading finds and good friends to tell!


Sara

P.S. I Love You...

This weekend I went to see P.S. I Love You starring Hilary Swank and Gerard Butler based on the book by Cecelia Ahern. I prepared myself all week for a tearjerker, and that is definitely what I got. However, I never expected to spend the entire length of the film crying. And when I say crying, I mean, having to bite my lip to keep myself from sobbing uncontrollably in a theater full of people I did not know. Not that I like to cry in theaters full of people I do know, but that is beside the point. This movie was overwhelmingly sad; and however enjoyable, put me in a somber mood for the rest of the day. Now, I’m normally one for a good melodrama, because honestly there is nothing better than hugging a pillow and a box of Puffs while watching Lana Turner or Bette Davis crumple into balls of insecurity and heartbreak to make you feel better about your own life and romantic situation. But today, P.S. I Love You just tore out my soul.

The film revolves around Holly Kennedy (Swank) as she receives letters from her husband (Butler) throughout the first year of his death. The letters encourage her to not only celebrate Gerry’s life, but to also move on with her own. She tries desperately to find meaning in his death and a place without Gerry, but constantly encounters setbacks keeping her from healing. The tragedy in this movie is not Gerry’s death and Holly’s abandonment; it’s that the filmmakers never give the audience a moment to breathe between the dramatic scenes. So many times throughout the film I found myself unable to focus because I was just expecting another hysterical sobbing fit to overtake me. Even in the most emotional films, the director breaks the tension with periods of levity, but the lightest scenes in P.S. I Love You felt contrived and sloppy. More attention needed to be paid to balancing the tragedy with the comedy. The best quality of the film was its realistic portrayal of grief, and how death affects everyone, even those on the outside.

Oh, and P.S. Gerard Butler should do more old man strip teases...just sayin'