On facebook today, I’m revealing the cover of Tall, Dark, and Royal, the next story in my Renegade Royals Series. This is Dominic’s story, and it will be available in November as a digital novella. And to celebrate the reveal I’m giving away a copy of the first book in the series, Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard! Just click here to view the cover and enter the contest.
I’m so pleased to welcome bestselling romance and epic fantasy author Patricia Borroughs to the blog today. Pooks, as she’s called, is here to talk about her latest book, This Crumbling Pageant–which has an interesting movie-related twist.
I was a very small girl the first time I saw that lush, gorgeous movie musical describing a different world and a different culture from my own. I had no idea what a courtesan was, or what Gigi was being raised to be. I just knew that I fell in love with the tale and several times since have watched it again, a bewitching romance in the old school way—a young girl raised to be a courtesan, who brings the hero to his knees both figuratively and literally.
They first met when she was a young girl, and part of the fun for me was watching scenes like this one, and anticipating the moment when he would see her—really see her—for the first time as a woman.
I certainly wasn’t remembering Gigi when I was plotting the early part of my trilogy, when Persephone is smitten with Sir Robin Fitzwilliam and he sees her as a precocious young lady deserving of his protection and affection but certainly not a love interest. The plot required that moment, and that age difference. And yet, I also didn’t shrink back in dismay. Historically, matches were frequently made between young women and more mature men.
I understand being turned off by the idea of a relationship that began, innocently, when Persephone was too young, even though it didn’t progress as a love relationship until she’s old enough to be presented to the queen. But in the 21st Century few of our readers would be thrilled to have their 17-year-old daughters fall in love with thirty year-old men. I get that.
But even though This Crumbling Pageant does tell a complex and complicated—and ultimately, passionate—love story, it is first and always a fantasy. I can tell my story as it needs to be told, with the ages and situations demanded by the plot, without worrying about contemporary rules that might stand in the way if I were writing only about Persephone’s romantic story arc—an arc, I must add, that won’t end until the entire trilogy is written.
Alas, a youtube search did not turn up the moment when Louis Jordan takes a look at Gigi and realizes she is a woman, when he experiences that gut-clench of possession and realizes that she means far more to him than he ever dreamed. I guess I’ll have to watch the entire movie again. (As if that’s a sacrifice!)
In the meantime, I will give you that moment for Persephone and Robin.
Robin stepped onto the first floor landing to realise that from below him, people were gathered, looking up. Guests who had been milling near the ballroom entrance were now turned, also looking up expectantly. He followed their gazes up the stairs.
Persephone’s brothers—Dardanus and Cosmo—descended, Dardanus’s expression one of ill-masked concern that caused Robin’s heart to leap.
Cosmo, however, exuded confidence, his eyes glittering.
And why did that leave Robin uneasy?
The Duke Regent descended next, as regal as if he already bore the crown. The slight rigidity around his eyes was all that betrayed that he, too, might have concerns. It was a detail few would detect.
When the three reached the foot of the stairs, they turned as one and awaited the announcement of her name.
And finally, the slow, graceful descent of Apollo Fury and his daughter.
A soft gasp echoed through the assemblage.
And he… he could do nothing but stare up as Persephone came into view…
Wearing a dress of purple so dark, it was almost black.
Her hair was unfashionable, a sleek fall of ebony. Usually so flat in colour, it shimmered, with a silver laurel wreath its only adornment.
Her skin wasn’t the milky white of her sister, but in this light, against such a dress, it had a honeyed cast that glowed with life. The wide neck of the gown was low on her shoulders, exposing the delicacy of the joining of sinew and bone, the hollow at the base of her throat. Her mouth was wide and tinged with rose.
But it was her eyes, large and liquid, that dominated her face with their dark intensity.
Her presence was magnetic. There was no way any eye could have been on any other woman in the room.
She appeared to have stepped from a medieval portrait at Erinyes Manor, despite the fact that her dress was of the most recent fashion, with snow-white gloves that covered her from fingertip to above where sleeve met wrist—an effect obviously created by a modiste of the first stare. Down to the finest detail, it could not be faulted in any way.
Except for its hue that no young lady of fashion would ever choose.
A hue that made her glow.
The blood-draining grip at his elbow, the carefully composed expression on Electra’s face as she looked—simply looked—at Cosmo, and his return smirk told Robin everything.
This presentation was Cosmo Fury’s doing.
And Persephone’s sister Electra, the Duchess of Aubyn, was rigid with rage.
Persephone drew closer. Robin looked into her eyes, and his breath caught at the intensity of her apprehension.
Oh yes, her chin was high, her shoulders straight, her posture impeccable. Few would know that she reeked of tension, only those who knew her well.
And yes, he knew her so well.
And it hit him.
Persephone didn’t know. Electra had yet to recognise. The first shock had not worn off.
None of them with the exception of Cosmo had quite yet realised.
Persephone Fury was stunning.
Whether trope of cliché, this is one of those moments I love to read and to write, that moment when an awkward duckling appears as a swan to the man she’s been yearning for.
How does Gigi hold up today? I didn’t even address the fact that she was raised to be a courtesan here.
Can you still enjoy it as a love story, or does it squick? Is it still a fabulously romantic tale of a girl who rises above her ‘station’ and wins the world be bring the hero to submission? Or is it one of those stories best left behind to another time and place, a guilty pleasure at best and a glamorization of a dark time for women at worst?
Vanessa, here. Readers, what do you think of Pooks’ question? I love the idea for this book and I also love Gigi, so let’s talk about it! Pooks will give away a $10 gift card and I’ll give away a copy of my latest book, Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom, to one person who comments.
Persephone Fury is the Dark daughter, the one they hide.
England, 1811. Few are aware of a hidden magical England, a people not ruled by poor mad George, but by the dying King Pellinore of the House of Pendragon.
The Furys are known for their music, their magic, and their historic role as kingmakers. When Fury ambitions demand a political marriage, Persephone is drugged and presented to Society—
Only to be abducted from the man she loves by the man she loathes.
But devious and ruthless, Persephone must defy ancient prophecy and seize her own fate.
Get swept away into the first book of a dark fantasy series combining swashbuckling adventure, heart-pounding romance, and plot-twisting suspense.
I’m so please to be hosting award-winning author Darcy Burke on the blog today. Darcy is a lovely person, and she writes wonderful historical romance (and contemporary romance, too). She’s here to tell us about her latest series and book, Scoundrel Ever After.
Thank you for having me here today, Vanessa! Now that my Secrets and Scandals series is finished (sniff!), I’m reflecting on the characters and stories. I really loved the multi-book redemption arc of Ethan Jagger. Reformed bad boys are one of my favorite tropes and I especially love a series that introduces a character as a villain (or as seemingly irredeemable) and lets you see the transformation from “hell no!” to “ hell yes, please!” What surprised me, though, is that I had not one, but two, female characters who traveled a redemption arc.
The first book in this series, Her Wicked Ways, features a spoiled London debutante who’s banished to the country to reform herself. Instead of multiple books to transform her, she (hopefully!) went from immature and selfish to independent and selfless. That book took place over several months, so her evolution and that of the love story definitely had time to percolate and grow. Still, reformed heroines are harder than heroes!
So why’d I do it again? head/desk. In the second book, His Wicked Heart, I introduced two secondary characters to befriend the heroine (Olivia). They were Lydia and Audrey, who ended up being heroines of their own books. But I didn’t introduce them with that in mind. Lydia, in fact, was more of a frenemy. She was a gossip and a bit condescending to Olivia, who was new to Society. Audrey was much softer and I knew earlier with her that she needed her own book. Lydia, on the other hand, was a tough sell. She’d been introduced as a foil and to make her into heroine material, I had to figure out why she was the way she was. I surprised myself when I paired her with Jason Lockwood, but I’m so happy with how their story turned out. It seemed natural—and exciting—that the socially vilified Jason would find love with the gossip-mongering Lydia.
I’m sure there’ll be reformation of some kind in my next series, Regency Treasure Hunters. One of the heroes, Lord Kersey, appeared very briefly in Her Wicked Ways. He had a somewhat notorious reputation he was trying to live down. We’ll find out how successful he was! I’m planning for the first book in that series (a prequel novella) to be out this summer.
Redemption is definitely one of my favorite themes and as I said, reformed bad boys is one of my favorite romance tropes. What are your favorite themes and tropes? What do you think of reformed heroines and what are some of your favorite books that feature them? One lucky commenter will get a copy of Secrets and Scandals Volume 1, which includes the first three books in the series!
Wow! That’s a very generous giveaway, Darcy – thank you! Personally, I’m very fond of the reformed heroine, since my third book, My Favorite Countess, featured a heroine who had to follow a pretty steep course of redemption. What about you, readers? What are some of your favorite themes and tropes. Does it include redemption? Let us know, and I’ll also throw in a copy of My Favorite Countess for Darcy’s winner!
A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her devoted husband, their two great kids, and two Bengal cats. Darcy writes hot, action-packed historical and sexy, emotional contemporary romance. Visit Darcy online at http://www.darcyburke.com and sign up for her new releases newsletter, follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/darcyburke, or like her Facebook page, http://www.facebook.com/darcyburkefans.
Hooray! Sally is in the house! Sally MacKenzie, that is, one of my favorite historical romance authors. Sally writes USA Today Bestselling Regencies and they are funny, sexy, and just so great to read. She’s with us today to tell us about her upcoming book, Loving Lord Ash. Take it away, lady!
Thank you for inviting me to visit, Vanessa. And it’s so cool to be here with the Duchess of Love—er, I mean the books, not you, Vanessa ;)—on Valentine’s Day. Did you know that the Duke of Greycliffe’s family name is Valentine, and that all the boys were born on February 14? So it’s quite the special day, lol!
What fun, Sally! So, readers are loving your Duchess of Love series. What’s the premise for it, and how did you come up with such awesome book titles?
I hope everyone’s enjoying Venus and her boys! Venus is the Duchess of Greycliffe, but English society calls her the Duchess of Love because she’s the ton’s premier matchmaker—and, much to her husband’s and sons’ embarrassment, she writes Venus’s Love Notes, pamphlets of marital advice for women. The prequel novella, “The Duchess of Love,” tells how Venus met her duke; the three books—Bedding Lord Ned, Surprising Lord Jack, and Loving Lord Ash—are about her three sons.
I’m glad you like the book titles. I wanted them to sound like they were part of a series, of course, so I first came up with a pattern they could all follow: a verb and then the son’s name that the book was about. Bed rhymes with Ned, but it also so happens that a bed plays an important role in the story—and not in that way! Or not exactly in that way. Reggie, the duchess’s cat, likes to hide things under Ned’s bed. So that’s how Bedding Lord Ned came about—and the pattern was set.
Darling Mr. M, who is a bit of a jokester, told me I should title Ash’s book Kissing My Ash. Ahem. Mr. M is quite amusing in his own way, but I do not let him near my titles, for obvious reasons.
LOL! I love Mr. M! What can you tell us about Loving Lord Ash?
Here’s the back cover blurb:
A Little Misunderstanding…
Kit, the Marquis of Ashton, is in a sticky wicket. He married young and for love—how naïve. He discovered his mistake the very day of his wedding, but he is saddled now with a wife he’s reluctant to trust. And however much evidence he gathers against faithless Jess, he can’t seem to prove her guilt to the final judge—his foolish heart.
Jess knows she’s bobbled her marriage, however innocently. A fairytale wedding makes no difference if she hasn’t got the marquis charmed to show for it. Well, she’s had enough of accidental encounters with naked gentlemen and near misses explaining things to her husband. It’s time to buck up and go win her man back—even if she has to fight very dirty indeed.
Loving Lord Ash is the concluding book in the Duchess of Love series which includes the RITA nominated novella, “The Duchess of Love.” The first two books, Bedding Lord Ned and Surprising Lord Jack, both received starred reviews from Booklist, and Bedding Lord Ned was one of Booklists’ Top Ten Romances of 2012. AND the earlier books should be on sale NOW. Until February 25, the novella should be FREE and Ned’s and Jack’s book only $2.99 each at all major eBook retailers!
Wow! That’s a great deal, Sally! So, tell us what’s your favorite thing about the Regency era, especially in terms of writing?
When I was young, I read science fiction and fantasy books—and Georgette Heyer’s Regency-set stories. I guess I was never one for living in the real world 😉 So for me, the Regency is my fantasy world, where the men are mostly titled, wealthy, and in need of a wife. And I’ve always been a bit of a word geek—I love my Oxford English Dictionary. Writing Regencies lets me use words like namby-pamby, brangle, and ninnyhammer. Fun!
Have you ever considered writing in another genre or historical period?
When my kids were very young, I wrote picture book texts. I got some “good” rejections on those and even went through some revisions with one publisher, but nothing came of it. And when my first book, The Naked Duke, sold, I was working on a science fiction romance. Actually, one of my very first manuscripts, pre-kids, was a science fiction romance, now that I think about it. But at least for the foreseeable future, I expect to stay in the Regency.
What’s up next for Sally?
I’m very excited to say I’ve just agreed to do a new series based on our visit to England last September! The stories are set in a small village, Loves Bridge, and revolve around a Spinster House. But I’m just starting book one, so everything is subject to change.
I can’t wait to read your new series! Thanks so much for joining us today, Sally. Readers, Sally is giving away one copy of Bedding Lord Ned, and because it’s Valentine’s Day I’m giving away a book, too! One person who comments today will win both Sally’s book and my latest book, Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard. Just tell us what you most like (or hate) about Valentine’s Day for a chance to win!
Breaking News!!! Valentine’s Day special on my facebook page. I’m giving away TWO copies of Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard. So be sure to leave a comment for Sally, and then visit me on my facebook page!
I’m so happy to have historical romance author Manda Collins visiting the blog today. Manda writes witty, Regency-set romance with a lot of heart and a dash of mystery, and she has a new book in her Wicked Widows Trilogy out today–hooray! Here’s an exclusive excerpt from Why Earls Fall in Love.
“It’s extraordinarily ugly, isn’t it?” Mrs. Georgina Mowbray asked her friend, and fellow army widow, Mrs. Lettice Stowe, as they stood before the latest painting to have taken Bath by storm in the fashionable Messrs. Oliver and McHenry Art Gallery in Clarges Street.
“I do see that the artist has talent, but look at the expression on poor Cleopatra’s face! She looks more like she’s suffering from dyspepsia than the poisonous bite of an asp.”
Lettice, who was rather less interested in museums than Georgina, studied the painting, wrinkling her upturned nose in concentration. “I don’t know,” she said frowning, “I rather like it. It’s so dramatic, the way she’s draping herself across the chaise, her bosom exposed as the asp sinks it’s fangs into her. And who’s to say that the bite of an asp doesn’t feel like an attack of dyspepsia. You remember old Mrs. Lafferty whose husband was in the 23rd, who swore she was only suffering a bit of the ague when in fact she was having an apoplexy.”
Georgina had to concede the point to her friend, though she was fairly certain Mrs. Lafferty had been suffering from both the ague and apoplexy. But she didn’t wish to quibble. Lettice was, after all, her only friend in Bath aside from her employer, Lady Russell, to whom Georgie served as lady’s companion.
It had only been a few months since she came to the spa town and she missed her friends in London dreadfully. But unlike Isabella and Perdita, who were both the widows’ of noblemen, Georgie was the widow of a military officer who had been just as terrible at managing his finances as he had been at being a husband. And as a result, she needed to work to earn her keep.
Today, her employer was taking tea with her niece while Georgie enjoyed her afternoon off. She would never have expected that the life of a paid companion would be so fulfilling, but it was. Georgie appreciated order and her life following the army had taught her to appreciate the well-managed life. Especially when her relationship with her husband had been anything but reliable.
“Perhaps,” Georgie allowed her friend. “Though I do still think it’s a remarkably ugly painting.”
Shuddering, she asked, “Does it say who the artist is?”
“I’m afraid that would be me,” said a male voice from behind them.
Georgina stifled a very unladylike curse before turning to greet the newcomer. Just as she’d known he would be, the Earl of Coniston stood behind them, one supercilious brow raised in amusement.
He had been betrothed to her friend Perdita for a few short weeks earlier in the year, and during that time, Georgie had been forced to endure his company despite her dislike of him. He’d been good enough to Perdita—had even agreed to her dissolution of the betrothal without a fuss when she realized she wasn’t ready to marry again so soon after her husband’s death—but from what Georgie could tell, he was the very sort of dissolute, devil-may-care nobleman that she’d come to dislike during her time following the army. Especially given that the officers had often been handed their positions by dint of money and birth while the enlisted men under them were forced to do the real work.
And, perhaps sensing her dislike, Coniston, or Con as he was called by his friends, had found great delight in teasing her whenever they were in company together.
It was just Georgie’s luck that he was her employer’s favorite nephew, and would therefore be underfoot for her near future at the very least.
“Lord Coniston,” she said, masking her dismay with a smile, “what a surprise to find you here.”
“Not so surprising, surely, Mrs. Mowbray,” her nemesis said with a grin. “After all, you must have penned the invitations from my aunt for her house party this week.”
“I meant,” she said maintaining her poise, “this gallery, of course, not the city of Bath.” It was just like him to deliberately misunderstand her.
Unchastened, he raised his brows. “Do you mean you think me such a culture-less fribble that I could not possibly have business in such a place? For shame, Mrs. Mowbray. Surely, I have made a better impression upon you than that.”
“As a matter of fact,” Georgie began, before she was interrupted by Lettice. To her shame, Georgie had forgotten her friend was even there, such was the power of Coniston to overwhelm her good sense.
“Do introduce me to your friend, Georgina,” Lettice said, her eyes alight with interest as she took in Coniston’s good looks and Georgie’s discomfort in his presence.
Reluctantly, Georgie said, “Lord Coniston, this is my friend, Mrs. Lettice Stowe. We followed the drum together.” Turning to Lettice, whose grin alerted Georgie to her amusement at the situation, she said, “Lettice, this is Lord Coniston, the nephew of my employer, Lady Russell.”
She would have liked to find fault in Coniston’s reception of her friend, but Georgie was forced to admit that his bow and expression of pleasure at making the acquaintance were all that was proper.
“What is it you dislike about this painting, my lord?” Lettice asked, returning them to their surroundings. “I should be interested to hear your opinion of it.”
A dark curl brushed his brow, giving the earl a boyish air. “Where to begin, Mrs. Stowe?” he said gravely. “There are so many things wrong with it that I don’t quite know which to condemn first. I will say, however, that it obviously one of the artist’s earlier works and doubtless he would prefer it never to be seen in public again.”
“I have told the owners of the gallery to remove it many a time,” he continued. “But they ignore my pleas to spare the good people of Bath from the horror of it.”
Suddenly, a memory of her employer saying something about her nephew winkled its way into Georgie’s consciousness. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip in frustration. Of course.
“It is yours, isn’t it?” she asked the earl in a flat tone. He’d overheard her criticizing his work. He’d never let her hear the end of it. “You are the artist of this piece.”
To his credit, Coniston did not attempt to capitalize on her embarrassment. “It is indeed, I am sorry to say,” he admitted. “I gave it to a friend as a joke years ago, and the beastly fellow sold it to this gallery. Every time I come to Bath I attempt to buy it back from the owners but they refuse, claiming it’s one of their most popular display pieces.”
Georgie couldn’t help but sympathize with him. “How unfortunate,” she said, looking once more at the hideous face of Cleopatra. “You have become a much better artist since this piece,” she added, thinking how mortified she would be if one of her sewing samplers, which were truly awful, were to be hung up next to someone else’s neat and tiny stitching. “The landscape in your aunt’s sitting room is particularly fine.”
Coniston gave her a puzzled look, as if he weren’t quite sure what to think of her when she was being generous with him. Georgie felt a tug of shame. Had she really been so difficult with him, she wondered.
“It’s not so bad as all that,” Lettice said, again reminding Georgie of her presence. “I was just telling Georgie that…”
But before she could finish, they were interrupted by another gentleman.
“There you are, old boy,” the newcomer said, slightly out of breath.
“The others are waiting. Let’s get out of this mausoleum.”
It was clear from the man’s glance at Georgie and Lettice, and his quick dismissal, that he did not consider them worth his notice. Coniston, to his credit, looked embarrassed at his friend’s bad manners.
“Ladies,” he said, bowing to them, “I hope you find some more pleasing works of art to occupy the rest of your time here. I recommend the very fine Tintoretto in the corner.”
And with a grin, he followed his friend from the anteroom of the museum where Georgina and Lettice stood looking after him.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Lettice unfurled her fan and briskly plied it before her face. “Lord, Georgie, have you ever seen such a handsome man in your life? Why did you not tell me you were friends with him?”
“He’s hardly a friend, Lettice,” she responded with a laugh. “He is my employer’s nephew. We met briefly in London at the home of a mutual friend, but to be honest we are not on the best of terms.”
“What do you mean?” Lettice demanded. “You seemed easy enough just now.”
Georgie was silent for a moment as she tried to put into words her complicated feelings about Lord Coniston. It wasn’t that she disliked him, precisely. He was friendly enough and had been kind to Perdita. But she found it difficult to admire a man who seemed to concern himself with anything beyond the latest on-dit or the outcome of some much-talked-about prize-fight. For better or for worse, she could not admire a man who was so lacking in seriousness.
“You were in the war, Lettice,” Georgie tried to explain. “You saw how some of the aristocratic officers behaved.”
At her friend’s nod, she continued, “Lord Coniston reminds me of them. As if he has nothing more to concern himself with than the betting book or which opera dancer he’s going to bed.”
“And what,” Lettice asked, with a frown, “is wrong with that? Goodness, Georgina, you behave as if the war is still going on. So what if Lord Coniston enjoys himself. Wouldn’t you love to have enough funds to live as you pleased? It’s not as if he’s leading men into battle and compromising their safety.”
It was nothing more than she’d told herself any number of times, and Georgie knew that Lettice was right on some level.
“True enough,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not sure why I am so hard on him. Perhaps I am a bit jealous of his freedom to do as he wishes.”
“If you ask me,” Lettice said with a sly look, “you need to loosen your stays a bit, so to speak. Let yourself have a bit of fun. You’re no longer following the drum, keeping everything neat and tidy for that brute of a husband to come back from the fighting. And it’s time you remembered it.”
It was an old argument, and one that Georgie did not wish to rehash again. One of the ways in which she’d learned to cope with the unpredictabilty of her husband’s temper was to keep everything else in her life as predictable as possible. She lived her life by the ticking of the small heart-shaped watch pinned to the breast of her gown. And she one freedom she did appreciate was the one that allowed her to do so without reproach.
Looking down at her watch, she gasped. “Goodness, it’s gone three! I promised Lady Russell I’d be back in time for tea.”
“I thought it was your day off?” Lettice pouted, looking like a thwarted five-year-old.
Since Georgie didn’t wish to explain again that she’d agreed to giving up a bit of her off-day under no duress and that she, in fact, had offered to it, she remained silent.
“I shall have to get back to Henrietta Street,” she said, offering her friend a quick hug. “I’ll see you at the pump room, tomorrow, all right?”
To Georgie’s great relief, her friend didn’t raise a fuss. But before they parted ways on the street outside the museum, the other woman said, “Just remember that your employer is not your friend, Georgina. She is your employer. It’s just not possible for folks of their station and ours to be friends. Not true friends like we are.”
It was an old argument, and rather than go into it for the umpteenth time, Georgie merely nodded and gave her friend a quick hug before hurrying down the street toward Lady Russell’s townhouse.
She knew there was some sense in what Lettice said. But she’d learned from her friendship with Isabella and Perdita that not all members of the ton were supercilious and cutting. And if truth be told, Georgie trusted the sisters more than Lettice in some instances, because though Lettice was a good enough person, she had a tendency to look for the cloud in every silver lining. And if Georgie needed anything it was to be around people with a sunny outlook on life, given her own tendency toward seriousness.
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, however, than she remembered the letter in her reticule. Perhaps she had reason for her worries, she reminded herself.
The first had arrived a month or so ago. And knowing the hell Isabella had gone through after she’d received similar missives, Georgie was prepared for something terrible to befall her now that the second and third warning letters had arrived.
I know what you did last season.
The note had been unsigned. And she was quite sure if she compared her own letters with Isabella’s that the handwriting would be identical.
Someone, she knew, was out to avenge the late Duke of Ormond’s death.
No matter how much of a bastard he’d been. No matter that his death had been a matter of preventing him from murdering Perdita before their very eyes.Whoever it was behind the threatening letters, Georgie knew that they weren’t interested in fairness or logic or justice. They wanted only revenge.
On that thought, her hand slipped down to feel the reassuring shape of the small pistol resting next to the notes in her reticule.
Let this person continue to threaten, she thought grimly. When they began their campaign to frighten her, Georgie decided, she’d be ready for them.
For my readers today, Manda is giving away a copy of one of her wonderful books. To be eligible to win, simply tell us if you like mystery stories. If so, what are some of your favorites? One person who comments will win! And be sure to visit Manda’s website for her latest news and buy links for Why Earls Fall in Love.