For those of you who don’t know (or remember me :-p ) my name is Rose Gordon and once upon a time I wrote historical romance–mostly Regency-era.
Here’s a few visuals…
And when I wasn’t slaving away to write about unsuspecting fellows and their over-scandalous counterparts, I was on here blogging about nonsense like…
(The time I fell through the attic on Thanksgiving.)
(Crazy stuff I’ve found–and maybe bought…–at the fair or craft mall.)
I also shared on here about my failed attempts at crafts:
Held crazy votes:
Or shared stories about my kids:
(100 “signed by author” stickers, plus autograph for 100th day of school; and my kids fighting over a stuffed enema…)
So many of you supported me when I raised $10,000 for MS and looked like an idiot while doing it!
On the bike for the first, but certainly not last, time for the weekend. (Picture blurry to protect the guilty…as well as the innocent.)
Let me share some seriously scandalous “swag” I’ve picked up at different conventions:
I had so much fun writing over 600 blog posts whether they were stories about the craziness in which I live, a man’s POV of my books, hosting contests and so much more. I have missed out on so much by not posting very consistently for the past three years. A fact I wish I could change–but some things aren’t things you post. Or at least not things *I* could ever post.
Many don’t know that about 3.5 years ago my world tilted on its axis when the happily-ever-after I believed I was living fell apart. I have gone through fire after fire since and in my own opinion, I think I’ve emerged a much different, and perhaps stronger person.
Am I ready to write romance novels again? No. Maybe one day, but not today.
Am I ready to start blogging about the craziness that I now face with boys who are 10 and 12 and have entered into their first year in public school? Oh, absolutely. (Funny sidetrack: on Halloween my kids left for the school bus 10 minutes earlier than they needed to. Why? Because they could and I was in the shower and couldn’t tell them, “Oh, hell no.” When I got out of the shower, I noticed I had received about 5 texts from my kids. “Mom, we’ve been down here for 5 minutes and haven’t seen a single bus. I don’t think they’re having school today. You know, Halloween is a holiday.” Oh, my poor kids who’ve always been in a church school or heaven help me homeschooled for an overwhelming year. I wrote back: “Wait for the bus. You left 10 minutes early. The bus doesn’t even get there until 7:40 and you usually leave at 7:30. Writing me at 7:25 to tell me you haven’t seen the bus and you think there’s no school in observance of Halloween will be posted to Facebook if you two argue when you get home tonight. 😀 Love ya!”)
So, if you’re up to following my blog to follow more about me and my shenanigans, my crazy parenting, unusual finds, ridiculous signs, craft fails, wild tales and other craziness where truth is stranger than fiction, than please stay tuned and subscribed. (After all, it IS called Rose Unscripted.)
If you followed my blog as a means to keep up with my writing progress and being informed of new books only, I will by no means be disappointed if you’d like to unsubscribe.
Again, I want to thank you all. Whether you’ve been a follower since I started blogging in Feb. 2011 or have subscribed recently, it doesn’t matter, I just appreciate that you’ve enjoyed my work enough to sign up!
First, a huge thank you to everyone who hopped with us these past few days. The random winner of my giveaway for a copy of Jessie: Bride of South Carolina is Colleen C. (I’ll email you shortly.)
The Grand Prize winner of the whole hop is: Laurie.
Now, something for everyone who had to deal with that relation yesterday–you know the one: He scrapes all the crusty stuff off the top of all of the casseroles. Or she nags you “When are you going to find someone to marry?” “When are you going to have a baby” (even if it’ll be your fifth). Or he wants to stand in front of you and talk about the election results and you can’t get away and by the time you do, your favorite pie is gone! The list is long, we all have that ONE person who you invite because they’re family and you truly do love them to pieces, but they’re like a fine wine or cheese: a little of Uncle Ralph or Aunt Fern goes a long waaaaaay.
Well, in honor of surviving it, hopefully like a truly lady…or gentleman, I have put my entire Gentlemen of Honor series down to .99 each from now through Monday!
Secrets of a Viscount
One summer night, Sebastian Gentry, Lord Belgrave hauled the wrong young lady to Gretna Green. When her identity is exposed, the only obvious solution is to get an annulment. Only, just like his elopement plans, things didn’t go as planned and while she has reason to believe they are no longer married, he knows better. Wanting to make things right for her, he offers to help her find a husband…
Isabelle Knight has just been given an unexpected fortune and is in the midst of doing what she never believed she’d have to do: spend a Season on the Marriage Mart. Finding no one who seems to catch her fancy–or even seems bearable to tolerate until death do them part–her entire world is sent spinning with the sudden appearance of none other than her former husband.
Isabelle is in no position to refuse his offer to help her find a husband and reluctantly agrees, but what neither counts on is her future husband just might be the one she’s still secretly married to.
Desires of a Baron
Giles Goddard, Lord Norcourt is odd. Born with his life’s cord wrapped around his neck and sent away to Ireland to be raised in an orphanage run by nuns, he’s known nothing but the cold sting of being misunderstood and altogether unwanted. But that’s all about to change…
Lucy Whitaker is a fallen woman who has done her best to build a life for her and her son. But when her son finds a battered gentleman left on the side of the road, her entire world is about to come crashing down as she once again finds herself caught between two brothers: an heir and a spare.
Will Lucy’s dislike for nobility forever keep her from eternal happiness or can Giles convince her to follow her heart and take a chance on loving a baron?
Passions of a Gentleman
After being thrown over for the second time in one Season, Mr. Simon Appleton’s interest in courting another young lady is less than his interest in reconciling with his estranged brother.
Entering into her third, and dare she hope final Season, Miss Henrietta Hughes has a single goal: make it to August without becoming engaged, thus securing her sister’s promise of being allowed to become a spinster.
But with the most scandalous woman to ever step foot in London acting as Henrietta’s chaperone and Simon’s undeniable urge to vex her every chance he’s afforded, they both might find themselves with new plans.
Also, still on sale through Monday:
Jessie: Bride of South Carolina.
Tired of living under her father’s iron thumb of control Jessie Wilcox decides to do the unthinkable: run away to Montana as a mail-order bride. The only obstacle in her way: the one hundred miles between her home in Williamsburg County and the train depot in Charleston.
Joel Cunningham is in utter disbelief when the girl he once loved beyond reason is on his front porch asking him to disobey her father’s wishes and drive her to Charleston. Logic and reason scream no; his lips, however, say yes.
Will the one hundred miles ahead of them be enough to overcome the five years of painful regrets or will Jessie follow her dream for a new life in Montana?
Election Day is tomorrow! Escape the chaos and vote for your favorite Rose Gordon Hero–
Online of course, not really on your ballot.
So in the spirit of “I cannot handle anymore political turmoil and arguing”, I will be hosting my own list of measures to vote on up on Facebook tomorrow. I am not holding a totally fair vote because I don’t plan to post all the questions here tonight–you’ll have to visit my Facebook Page to vote on all the measures. (And of course there will be plenty of prizes to go around.)
The big question, however, is…Who at the end of the night will be crowned the most beloved Rose Gordon. This hero will get special privileges (don’t they all already??) for the next four years and of course be crowned the King of Rose Gordon’s Heroes at the end of the night.
Now of course with so many candidates, it’s only right to hold a small debate so without further ado, I have brought them all here to give a short speech about why THEY deserve such an honor…
[I should warn you that much like the other debates we’ve all witnessed this year, most of the candidates do NOT stay on topic and interrupt each other often…Be warned.]
Gentlemen, in three sentences, or less, could you please tell us why YOU should hold the coveted spot of Most Beloved Rose Gordon Hero for the next four years. We shall go in order of appearance, Andrew Black, Earl of Townson, we shall begin with you.
BENJAMIN COLLINS, DUKE OF GATEWAY: Pardon me, Rose, but actually I appeared before Townson. *grins wildly and folds his arms across his puffed out chest* And in his own book no less…
That will be enough of that.
ANDREW: Yes, we all remember that profound moment, you made the book start with a bang…or should I say a slap heard around the world?
Enough! You two are starting to remind me of real life too much and I do wield the power to remove you both from the running. Now, we shall begin—in the order of heroes. Andrew, you’re your first.
ANDREW—HERO FROM INTENTIONS OF THE EARL: As Rose’s first hero, I should think the honor belongs to me. Not only as the first am I the one she obviously used up her best traits and dialogue with, but I am also the one whose book has been read most, therefore I am most well known.
shoots a sharp look at Gateway
GATEWAY: *throws hands up into the air* I’m entitled to my own opinion on that. His book might have been downloaded more, but have you seen those reviews?
No and I don’t care to. Paul, your turn.
PAUL—HERO FROM LIBERTY FOR PAUL: I was saddled with Liberty, need I say more?
*sighs* If you didn’t fall madly in love with her by the end, I’d say the honor is yours by default, but…
PAUL: *grins* All right, I think I should be the favorite because A. I got Liberty to stop reading—and quoting—books on propriety; B. I also beat her at her own game; and C. I had my clothes stolen while in the tub, D. beans—that were supposed to be my head—stabbed to an oblivion AND E. am ninety percent sure that my mother-in-law glimpsed me naked. Franky, I’m a damn shoo-in.
Ahem, well, I’m not sure what to say to that. Next?
GATEWAY—HERO FROM TO WIN HIS WAYWARD WIFE: No, Paul, I’m the shoo-in. I’ve been Rose’s most loved hero from the start.
ANDREW: Yes, I recall everyone rooting for you all during my romance with Brooke. NOT!
GATEWAY: As I said, I’ve always been the favorite. Have any of you ever peeked in Rose’s inbox? No? It’s me the young girls write about and tell tales of their swooning and say if Arid Alex over there could fashion a time machine, they’d travel–
SIR WALLACE BENEDICT: I believe you’ve spoken more than three sentences.
*all eyes swing to Wallace who is adjusting his cravat*
GATEWAY: Sorry, chap, I was trying to stop at a prime number.
And I have a feeling you aren’t done yet… Nonetheless, you are for now. Alex?
ALEX BANKS—HERO FROM HER SUDDEN GROOM: If I was playing the pity card like Paul, I’d remind everyone I have the nickname of Arid Alex and was once betrothed to Lady Olivia. *shudders* However, I shall instead remind you all of my intellectual pursuits of a regular subscription to Prominent and Avant-Garde Horticulture, being an avid student of chess, having been entrusted to be the guardian of several young ladies…and as Gateway so nicely pointed out, if anyone was capable of creating a time machine, I’m your hero. Therefore, most beloved hero…again, I’m your hero.
GATEWAY: Are we supposed to applaud now?
ANDREW:I don’t know, but his speech is more worthy of applause than yours.
I won’t warn you two again. One more outburst and you’ll be excused from the room.
GATEWAY: Are you threatening voter fraud?
No! You’ll still be in the running, I can’t delete you from the ballot at this late date, but I will banish you from the room so you won’t be able to have another word. Now, let’s hear from Marcus.
MARCUS, LORD SINCLAIR—HERO FROM HER RELUCTANT GROOM: Hands down, I think everyone would agree I am the most honorable of all of your heroes. Even the ones who are given such an honor in their book title— *casts his grey eyes to where Sebastian, Giles and Simon, the three heroes from the Gentlemen of Honor Series, are seated* —I had a lovely young woman staying in my house unchaperoned for quite a while and not a whisper of scandal befell either of us. Nor was she in any way unmarriagable when she left.
PATRICK—HERO FROM HER SECONDHAND GROOM: *snorts* Sir Wallace might disagree with that. She wasn’t very interested in marrying him after you’d given her a lesson in male anatomy and base desires courtesy of a little book in your library.
MARCUS: I’d say all four of our wives— *gestures to Alex, Patrick, Sir Wallace and himself* —benefited in some way from Lady Bird’s Ladybird Memoir.
SIR WALLACE: *clearing his throat, and whispering* I can’t complain too much about that book, Patrick.
MARCUS: *stretches legs out in front of himself, crosses ankles* See? Emma’s gift to Edwina was the perfect apology.
ALEX: Your wife gave that…that…filth to my sister?!
GATEWAY: *cackles* Sir Wallace, you rascal! *lets out a low whistle and shakes his head* I suppose it’s true what they say, it’s always the quiet ones who are the biggest scoundrels. *stands and claps Sir Wallace on the shoulder* Since Rose is gesturing for me to get my arse out, I will go, but Sir Wallace, I’d be honored if you’d take my seat over in the Scandalous Series section. I do believe you having a naughty book has entitled you to a seat with the other debauchers. *bows* I shall take my leave now, I had no idea I was in such depraved company.
ALEX: *Scrubs hands over his face.* The image that is now in my head isn’t going away.
MARCUS: You’ll get over it. I do recall spotting a copy of it in your library. Need I remind you that you are married to my cousin?
ALEX: Point taken. Patrick, I think it’s your turn.
PATRICK “DRAKE”, LORD DRAKELY—HERO FROM HER SECONDHAND GROOM: I willingly admit that I made a few mistakes with Juliet, my heroine, but I’d like to think I redeemed myself during our trip to London. Also, if it weren’t for me, poor Simon over there would have never had his happily-ever-after. So in a way, I’m a HERO FROM two books.
ANDREW to ALEX: I think he’s been spending too much with Gateway, he’s getting a swell head.
ALEX back to ANDREW: That or with his wife and now he thinks he’s as good of a matchmaker as all those of her sex think they are.
PATRICK: I hate to tell you two weasels this, but Brooke and Caroline both think they’re some sort of skilled matchmakers, too.
All right, fellas, let’s stay on course. Sir Wallace?
SIR WALLACE BENEDICT—HERO FROM HER IMPERFECT GROOM: 1. Contrary to my book title, I am undeniably a perfectionist. 2. Unlike some of the others in this room, when scandal knocked on my door, I was ready to do the right thing. 3. Despite my love for being impeccably dressed and as proper as a straight pin as Rose put it, when love was on the line, I put my own wants aside and chased her down at all costs.
ALEX: Chased her down? No you scaled the side of my house and broke into her room.
SEBASTIAN—HERO FROM SECRETS OF A VISCOUNT: There is nothing wrong with that.
ALEX: There is when she didn’t invite him to do so.
SEBASTIAN: *face flushing, shrugs* Again, I don’t find anything wrong with it if he gets the girl in the end.
SIR WALLACE: I did. *pushes chest out* And an enlightening little treatise to boot.
Let’s move on to the heroes of the Brides Series. Edward?
EDWARD BANKS, LORD WATSON—HERO FROM HER CONTRACT BRIDE-: Oh? I get to enter the running, do I? I wasn’t sure if I’d get that honor since I’m the only one Rose killed off! I think that means I should forever be memorialized as the most beloved. Oh, is that too morbid? All right, I think ultimately I should be the most beloved hero because I’m the one responsible for building the stargazing gazebo that brought about at least two happily-ever-afters. If it weren’t for me being friends with the late Lord Sinclair, Alex wouldn’t have met Caroline—
ALEX: Or have been engaged to Lady Olivia.
EDWARD: Yes, as I mentioned before, I was lost in celebration that night. Believe me, there was a lot of celebrating. Joseph was finally free from having to visit Bea’s bed and the wine just kept flowing… *waves a hand through the air* Not to mention, I fixed things between Alex and Caro by reminding her that he’s a man. If it weren’t for me and Regina, Alex, Elijah, Henry and Edwina wouldn’t be here and I would have never been born and John wouldn’t have gone to America to meet his wife. And…finally, if it weren’t for me, Andrew wouldn’t have inherited such a beautiful painting.
ANDREW: Thank you. I’m still cherishing it.
JOHN BANKS—HERO FROM HIS YANKEE BRIDE: All right, Edward, we get that you’re making up for lost time of not getting any scenes in three of your four children’s books, but enough is enough. Besides, I know the true identity of that “artist”. Not to mention, you allowed your heroine to sink the Gallant…
EDWARD: She looked so fetching as the boat went down, I’d have allowed her to sink a whole armada had I had one.
All right, gentlemen, we have a lot more to hear from–
EDWARD: No we don’t, I’m the most beloved. *grins* They need not even speak.
JOHN: Now who has been spending too much time with Gateway?
John, it’s you’re turn.
JOHN: As hero to Carolina I have faithfully done my duty and played countless games of charades. I stood up to her beastly parents and rescued her closest confidant. I endured being sewn into a bundling bag, being watched shamelessly on while bathing in the pond, had to bear witness to a dirty, old merkin lying in the street while eloping, and in the end, swept my girl away from her parent’s evil clutches and eventually brought her and my three daughters to London where all of Rose’s stories began.
EDWARD: You’re rather smug, aren’t you, Trouble?
JOHN: *shrugs* The boot fits.
All right you two, nearly two hundred and fifty years later and you two are squabbling like little boys.
EDWARD: We’re brother’s, that’s what we’re supposed to do.
And now, for another set of Banks Brothers—Elijah?
ELIJAH BANKS—HERO FROM HIS JILTED BRIDE: *squares shoulders and slowly looks around the room* Fellas, you can all go home. This victory is mine. You all might think you rescued your heroines, but I—*points at chest*–I did. I not only saved her from being married to a scheming, lying, reprobate who likely would have done unmentionable things to her person, but I did it by shimmying her through a church window in her wedding gown, no less. *chuckles* And no more, either.
HENRY BANKS—ELIJAH’S TWIN AND HERO FROM HIS BROTHER’S BRIDE: What Elijah neglected to mention was said man hadn’t even shown up yet. So how exactly he spared her such a life… *shakes head* Can anyone truly be certain?
ELIJAH: Right you are, Henry. I was also rescuing her from the humiliation of being jilted. I thought that was implied by the title. And just because he hadn’t shown up yet that day, didn’t mean he didn’t still have plans for her.
HENRY: That’s true, however, had you not married her and just brought her to safety, you’d have been able to fulfill an earlier promise you’d made.
ELIJAH: Oh, you mean I’d have married Laura—YOUR wife? *cocks head to the side* If what I spied in the garden is any indication, I think you ought to be thanking me.
ELIJAH: My thanks?
HENRY: *stares at him* I’ll refrain from singing carols at Michaelmas this year.
ELIJAH: That’s even better.
Throws hand up. Henry, it’s your turn.
HENRY: *rubs chin* As I just mentioned I did marry the young lady Elijah had promised marriage to. And I don’t regret it. I did first try to find her another suitable husband because what else can you do when a woman you barely knows shows up on your front door stoop and demands marriage? If rescuing heroines is the key to winning, I should say that I rescued mine from herself when she was spitting out phrases in French that she didn’t know the meaning of. And finally, I do believe, I exercised perfect self-control in the carriage while taking my—not my brother’s *scowls*—bride to Scotland.
ELIJAH: And on the way back?
HENRY: Is none of your damn business.
EDWARD: That’s my boy.
JOHN: Only you would be proud.
EDWARD: Had your wife produced a boy, you’d understand. As it is your girls—
JOHN: Are the most scandalous sisters to ever step foot in London, yes, I know.
EDWARD: I was going ot say saints, but your definition works, too.
All right, we need to–
GATEWAY: *pokes his head in the room* Are you hens still clucking? You all know I won this competition before it even started.
ANDREW: Only if you’ve been out there rigging the votes… *arches eyebrow*
MARCUS: Besides, I think you’d do well to spend a little more time around Alex and allow him to explain to you the difference between hens and roosters.
GATEWAY: I can borrow Sir Wallace’s naughty book for that, I’m sure.
Gateway, come join us again. Apparently, without you making inane and unsolicited comments everyone else feels they need to.
GATEWAY–*lumbers in and falls into a vacant chair* Ah, to be the scapegoat.
Now, let’s switch gears and hear from our American heroes—Wes, are you ready?
CAPTAIN WES TUCKER—HERO FROM THE OFFICER AND THE BOSTONER: About as ready as I was for a spirited and slightly angry young lady to come parading into my life, throwing rocks and making impossible demands.
2ND LIEUTENANT JACK—HERO FROM THE OFFICER AND THE SOUTHERNER: Sounds to me like you’re complaining.
CAPTAIN GRAY—HERO FROM THE OFFICER AND THE TRAVELER: Which you certainly weren’t doing when she came. I do believe you went around whistling a merry little tune as you packed your things and strutted up to your new bedchamber in the married officers wing of the barracks.
WES: Indeed I was. But keep in mind, I managed to keep Allison safe from harm of the other men and from herself with a sewing needle. I used her excellent throw to all of our advantage and taught her how to swing a bat—she can now best even the best in rounders.
JACK: Yes, that all sounds so exciting, lest we forget your book isn’t a shoot’em up.
GRAY: No, that was saved for your book. Would you care to share with everyone just exactly what went on at the shooting range that day?
JACK: That was a private moment between Ella and me.
*laughter from around the room.*
EDWARD: Good for you, young man.
Jack, why should you be most beloved hero?
JACK: I certainly went through some of the worst—sent off for a mail-order bride and received a young lady who was angry with me from the start. *face reddens* For which I do take full responsibility. Nearly lost my heroine to a spider. Had to ride a horse with a man who wore little more than an eyepatch over his…unmentionables, sat in the tent of a naked and half-crazed medicine man—and that was only the first half of my tale. As Gray mentioned, I taught my girl how to shoot…*face turns crimson and coughing ensues* and gave her another sort of education as well.
GRAY: *voice dripping with sarcasm* And now, I’ll never be able to shoot at the range again without that thought. Thank you.
JACK: *grins* You’re welcome.
GATEWAY: Would you like me to ruin a few places in England for you?
GATEWAY: *chuckles* Pray continue.
Gray, you’re turn.
GRAY: I do believe I am the most beloved. I had a rekindled romance with a woman I was once forbidden to talk to and because I kissed her–
JACK: Should you remind everyone why you were kissing her?
GRAY: *ignoring Jack, continues*–we were married and I inherited a dragon for a father-in-law.
JACK: *snorts* I have the same father-in-law!
WES: Yes, and thanks to the two of you, he’s now the general at our fort.
JACK: It’s not my fault. I didn’t know Ella’s father was a grumpy old general when I started writing to her. Hell, even Gray didn’t recognize Ella when she first came.
GRAY: And if I had, would you have sent her back?
JACK: Well, no.
GRAY: Then it seems you should stop your complaining about the old dragon.
WES: And you should, too. You both chose to be connected to him. I did not.
GRAY: As I said, if Jack had known any more about Ella’s identity it could have been avoided.
WES: Yes, but then you wouldn’t have had your wife.
GRAY: No, I wouldn’t have–*eyes crinkle and a broad grin takes his lips* and dealing with her cantankerous father is a small price to pay to have her.
Gray, is that all you have to say?
GRAY: No, I have plenty to say if these two would shut up for two minutes. I married a woman who had no reservations in her dislike for me. As has been mentioned, her father didn’t like me either. But even so, she managed to win me over and I daresay, I won both of them over, too.
JACK: That’s the best you could come up with?
GRAY: Yep, I’m Michaela’s all-time favorite hero. I don’t need to be anyone else’s.
*silence fills the room…until broken by none other than GATEWAY* Ah, spoken like a men letting his privates doing the thinking for him—and not the hundred men you command.
GRAY: *shrugs* Her opinion is the only one I value.
That’s very sweet, so then should we stop this competition now and let you all get back to your respective heroines?
SEBASTIAN GENTRY, LORD BELGRAVE—HERO FROM SECRETS OF A VISCOUNT: Hell no. I did not break into the wrong sister’s bedroom and hie my worst nightmare off to Scotland, marry her, lie to her, diligently try to find her another husband while secretly longing for her and praying she wouldn’t wind up with Stoic Simon just to give up now. I love Belle more than life itself, but by golly, I’m the most beloved hero—I’ve even won an award.
Your book isn’t the only one to be nominated for an award, Sebastian, (gracious this man needs to be taken down a peg), Patrick, Edward and John have been finalists, too.
SEBASTIAN: Ah, but they all came in second. I won. And a reader’s choice, nomination style entry no less.
EDWARD: Not true. I won some something or other once, too.
SEBASTIAN: Nobody seems to remember that. Not even the contest officials when it was time to publicly reveal the winners. But me? Oh, they made up this huge poster of my book. The thing was so big, Rose couldn’t get it back home from the conference. A local friend—and saint—kept it at her house for almost two and a half years until a mutual friend happened to be driving across the US and brought it to Rose. See, it’s right here!
GATEWAY: I think I’ve found my match for most conceited.
SEBASTIAN: Exactly, the Gateway Era is over and the Sebastian Era has begun.
SIMON APPLETON—HERO FROM PASSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN: I still can’t believe Isabelle chose this for herself.
HENRY: Ha, if awards were given out for which hero made Rose bang her head against the desk most while writing their book, Elijah would win handidly.
SEBASTIAN: And Simon would win for most re-starts.
JACK: Gray would be a close second for that one.
Hey now! Stop airing MY dirty laundry. Giles, are you ready?
GILES GODDARD—HERO FROM DESIRES OF A BARON: I don’t need this award. I married Lucy a woman who loves me no matter what I say and do. With Lucy came Seth. The boy asks me uncomfortable questions about the origins of babies, when unsightly hair will appear, and now calls me Papa. I already have my reward.
SIMON: And don’t forget a brother.
GILES: How could I? You’re the reason I was questioned about the appearance of body hair.
SIMON: And the reason you met Lucy.
GILES: Yes, it was because of you we met, but you certainly didn’t have any intentions of backing down.
SIMON: I’d met her first.
GILES: And it was obvious that she didn’t return your interest. At least it was obvious when I read the book—living it was a different matter.
All right—again, more bickering brothers! Simon, you’ll have your turn in a bit–
SIMON: Of course I will. I already had to wait two years to get my book, why not wait longer to have my turn to speak.
In order of heroes, I think Gareth is next.
GARETH, LORD WORTHE—HERO FROM THE PERFECT LADY WORTHE: As many of the others have said, I already feel like I’ve won because I was blessed to have such a wonderful heroine to spend the rest of this life with. But…since Rose is twisting our arms for these speeches, I will say that I am indeed gentlemanly and clever. I was the HERO FROM her first novella who apparently knows exactly how much is in my bank account and takes abbreviated naps throughout the day. Not to mention, I married my best friend’s younger sister against his wishes, that’s pretty damn brazen and heroic, if you ask me.
GATEWAY: Twisted your arm? Hmmph.
Aaron, your turn.
AARON LENTZ, HERO FROM MISTLETOE & MICHAELMAS: I had to endure a Christmastide stay with the straightforward Duke of Danby. The man is so obsessed with matchmaking, I went to his house as part of my duty as a vicar and less than a fortnight later I was in need of one myself. Also, for the record, it should be mentioned, my name wasn’t always Aaron. I was given that name the afternoon the book was submitted because another story in the anthology had a hero with the same name. How is that for enduring?
JOHN: I wondered how you ended up with what was originally my name.
I confess, I confess! Aaron is telling the truth. His name was different when I wrote the book and I had to change it. John is also correct—his name originally was Aaron. But when I was typing Aaron, my fingers were moving so fast I’d capitalize both As. Plus, Intentions of the Earl didn’t need anyone else with an “A” name. Now, let’s move onto our next hero: Joel.
JOEL CUNNINGHAM—HERO FROM JESSE: BRIDE OF SOUTH CAROLINA: What can I say? I was commissioned to bring the girl I’d once loved more than life itself one hundred miles in my wagon to a train depot so she could go off to the wilds of Montana and marry Mr. Perfect—which couldn’t have been too perfect or he wouldn’t have submitted an ad for a mail-order bride. I kept my hands to myself—most of the time, my trousers buttoned up—a blasted hard thing to do at times and reined in my sarcasm–
No you did not!
JOEL: And no you did not have this book done by Oct. 26, 2015 like you were supposed and yet you still told everyone you had. If I remember right you were only 1,000 words in.
What has that to do with anything?
JOEL: Nothing, other than I was the perfect hero to write about. If I hadn’t been so easy to write about you wouldn’t have gotten this book done in under a week.
GATEWAY: Dang! Here I thought my book was the fastest at ten days.
JOEL: No, mine took less time but after meeting you today, I see why yours took so long. You’re a fountain of fodder.
GATEWAY: Thank you. I enjoy being complimented.
JOEL: Yes, and so does my wife. Who, I’ll have you all know I managed to win over on that trip despite fear of her father catching us, being robbed, having to sleep outside, meeting a deranged man who loves his junk more than Andrew and Gateway hate each other and more sarcastic remarks than have been shared here today.
You are correct, Joel. On all scores. James?
JAMES NORTH, EARL OF WYNN—HERO FROM THE WOOING GAME: I daresay this award is in the bag for me. Charlotte and I had a nasty first start. Blooming humiliating all the way around if I dare say. However, I managed to win her—even woo her—and all by sending her anonymous letters of admiration, a feat not even the notorious Banks men—or heroes of the Banks women–could pull off.
GARETH: The first missive you sent her, wasn’t so anonymous….or charming.
JAMES: Shhh! I made a mistake. You’ve made one I’m sure.
SIMON: Is it my turn yet? Have I waited long enough?
Yes, Simon, you can go now.
SEBASTIAN: I don’t know why you’re bothering to, I’m sure everyone has already decided.
GATEWAY: Yes, they only needed to hear the first three.
ANDREW: Nope. Just the first one.
SIMON: Well, aren’t you both rather cocksure? Haven’t you ever heard of “saving the best for last”? My book was “in the works” for two blasted YEARS. Rose received emails inquiring when it was coming out. People asking why they couldn’t find it. She even received a very nasty email about tying her to a chair and making her write it. I daresay, if the emails are to be believed, I would consider this contest already over. Name me the winner and hand me my crown.
SEBASTIAN: Just because they asked about you and demanded she write your book doesn’t mean they liked it. Heck, if sales reports are any indication, I’d honestly say your book is the least read book Rose has written!
SIMON: That’s because everyone read your book and hated you so much they didn’t want to risk reading the others in the series for fear of encountering you again.
SEBASTIAN: Again, may I point your direction to Exhibit A?
All righty then, I think we’re done.
GATEWAY: No closing remarks?
No, you’ve all said more than enough already. All right ladies, you’ve heard what they have to say and tomorrow—on National Election Day—you can cast your vote for your favorite Rose Gordon Hero on Facebook. Please read over this as many times as you feel are necessary and share with your friends who might like to vote.
From just outside the window of my living room where everyone had gathered…GABRIEL ELLIS—FUTURE HERO FROM HIS PENNILESS BRIDE: Damn. She’s been receiving emails about the whereabouts of my story for four years—that’s before more than half of these fellas were heroes—I now have another four years to get my story, read all of their books to dig up the most gossip and I’ll be an easy win next go-around.
Ah, Gabriel, you forget…since your story hasn’t yet been written, you could be the most scandalous of them all!
1. UPDATE: I am making awesome progress in Passions of a Gentleman. Yes, I started completely over earlier this month and taking it in a different direction (funny how 20 months can change your perception…); nonetheless, it’s clicking along nicely and I’m *hoping* within a month I’ll have a concrete release date!
2. Didja Knows will be moved to Facebook posts. I think it’s great to learn new things every day, however, because of #1 on this list, I just need to free up a little more time and I’d feel a little less guilty if I moved those interesting tidbits to my Facebook page where I can just state a simple fact and be done rather than spending an hour or more each day looking for stock photos, interesting tidbits to expound on or list out, etc. Still, something new each day…but just not quite as much. Also, it’ll give me more time to blab about the craziness that I encounter each day without feeling like I’m being overbearing with sending too many emails to your inbox.
3. I’m havin’ a party! Okay, okay, it’s not just me. On Saturday January 30, from 5pm to 10pm EST, there’ll be a Facebook Party (click link so you can join) to celebrate Love Regency Style. I’ll be on from 9-9:30 talking about Secrets of a Viscount. I’m sure there will be plenty of giveaways and tons of fun!
4. And finally…a few polls! I’ve been writing for six years now and blogging for five. Over that time I’ve noticed some changes–some good and some bad. I’d like to better connect with those who do read my blog posts, so if you’d all be willing to take a few minutes to help me out, I’d appreciate it! [Please note: all polls are anonymous so no worries, I’m not going to hunt you do and interrogate ya about your answers.]
My contribution is Secrets of a Viscount. If you’ve already read my book, you might like some of the others:
TEMPTING HIS MISTRESS Samantha Holt
What could possibly induce at woman to follow in the footsteps of her mother and further sully her reputation by becoming a mistress?
ALEXANDRA Lauren Royal and Devon Royal
Alexandra Chase likes being the perfect daughter, thank you very much. Why bother chafing against society’s restrictions when she could be basking in the warm glow of its approval? But when her brother’s best friend—and secret obsession—returns from a long spell abroad, she loses interest in the suitable young lord she’s expected to marry. Suddenly, family duty and a flawless reputation seem less important than the chance, however slight, that her girlhood crush might notice her now that she’s all grown up…
THE MADNESS OF VISCOUNT ATHERBOURNE Elisa Braden
Agree to marry a lord who has yet to inspire a solitary tingle? It’s all in a day’s work for Victoria Lacey, the oh-so-proper sister of the Duke of Blackmore. Surely no one suspects her secret longing for head-spinning passion. Except a dark stranger, on a terrace, at a ball where she should not be kissing a man she has just met. Especially one bent on revenge.
TO TAME A HIGHLAND EARL Tarah Scott
Miss Eve Crenshaw wishes to marry for love. When London’s most notorious rakehell breaks into her bedchamber in the dead of night and ruins her, she plans a daring elopement that shocks even the earl.
LADY STAR Claudy Conn
Never, in all her twenty years of life, had Star Berkley seen the likes of Sir Edward. He was so damned arrogant, so damned fashionable, and so damned insolent—and he was the most handsome man she had ever come across!
THE UNWANTED HEIRESS Amy Corwin
An American heiress nobody wants; a duke every woman desires; and a murder no one expects. Some nights just don’t go as planned.
SECRETS OF A VISCOUNT Rose Gordon
One summer night, Sebastian Gentry, Lord Belgrave hauled the wrong young lady to Gretna Green. When her identity is exposed, the only obvious solution is to get an annulment. Wanting to make things right for her, he offers to help her find a husband…
THE KISS OF A VISCOUNT Linda Rae Sande
A kiss is just a kiss … or is it? George-Bennett Jones finds himself in love with Lady Elizabeth. His competition for her hand is the blond, blue-eyed Gabriel Wellingham. George has been tutored by his mistress, though, and employs the rules he has learned in an attempt to gain the upper hand in his quest for Elizabeth’s hand.
THE GRACE OF THE DUKE Linda Rae Sande
They say time heals all wounds, but what of those left by love? Lady Charlotte takes matters into her own hands when she travels to Wisborough Oaks to marry Joshua Wainwright. The Duke of Chichester is recovering from burns and has no intention of subjecting a woman to what the ton refer to as “His Grace with half a face.” When it appears someone is trying to kill him, Joshua sends his estate manager to London to find out who would benefit from his death.
THE SEDUCTION OF AN EARL Linda Rae Sande
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks… but what about his mistress? It will take the antics and devotion of man’s best friend to teach Henry and Hannah that sometimes love is right in front of your nose.
TEMPTING MISS ALLENDER Wendy Vella
Seven years after her disastrous debut, Miss Patience Allender has reluctantly returned to society. No longer the meek, mild Miss, she will never again allow a man to humiliate her. However, Patience’s resolve is severely tested when she comes face-to-face, with the very man who shattered her heart.
PENELOPE Anya Wylde
Leaving behind the rural charms of Finnshire, Miss Penelope Fairweather arrives in London with hope in her heart and a dream in her eye.
~*~From sweet to sensual, over 2000 pages of Regency romance. 12 full-length novels by 9 best-selling authors.~*~
This scene will be short, but is very wicked, indeed! It was one of my favorites to write.
A little set up:
Isabelle, or Belle as the hero calls her, has worn a dress that Sebastian thinks has a bodice a tad too low. Since he’s not only still secretly her husband but is also trying to be her friend and help her find a suitable replacement for him as a husband, he tells her that he thinks her bodice reveals too much. But when it becomes apparent to him that she doesn’t seem to think it’s as indecent or distracting as he finds it, he tries to tell her again and she starts to run off. And that’s where we pick up…
“Belle, I said to stop.”
She walked on.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, picked her up, and then carried her into the library and straight to a settee where he put her down with less grace than she might have preferred.
Just as he suspected, that didn’t deter her and she immediately began pushing to her feet. “How dare you!”
“How dare I?” he repeated in the same tone she’d used, jabbing a finger toward his chest. “You’re the one making a public display of yourself.”
“By finding something humorous? I think not.” She twisted her lips. “Now, you’re dragging me from the card room like some highhanded husband who’d just found his wife having an affair will make me a mockery for certain.”
He crossed his arms. “I wasn’t acting as a highhanded husband—”
“No, because you willingly gave that role away without a second thought many years ago.”
Her words stole the wind right from his lungs. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what?”
He gestured toward her low-cut bodice. “Yourself.”
She stared at him a moment, then he’d swear she pushed her chest out further as she stepped toward him and let her shawl fall to the floor. “While I cannot begin to comprehend why you have such an interest in my body—” she reached for the long end of the gold chorded bow on the front of her bodice and began to slowly pull the string— “I should like to remind you that as neither my father, nor my husband, you have no say over who I might share my body with.” She gave the chord one final tug and the knot slipped loose, allowing the center of her bodice to fall open about an inch.
Sebastian’s mouth ran dry.
“I believe you might recall having seen me without my clothes once, but perhaps you’ve neglected to notice that my body isn’t the same as it was back then…”
No, he hadn’t neglected to notice. He was noticing right now and it was making him break out in a cold sweat as his blood raced through his veins. But nothing short of a miracle could make him take his eyes away from where she’d pulled her bodice open just a fraction more, offering him only a slight, almost teasing, glance at the valley between the rounded globes of her breasts.
“As the only one who has control of my body—” she continued, reaching for his hand— “I can share with whoever I want.” She brought his hand to her warm skin and like a seductress he’d have never thought her to be, she slowly moved his hand in a way that dragged his fingertips across the plane of her chest, with each sweep she made, moving them just that much closer to her breasts.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game,” he practically growled at her; his fingers itched to take advantage, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Her game was too intriguing for him to stop playing it.
“Yes.” This time he did move to take advantage of what she was offering him and pressed the pads of his fingers into the softness of the side of her breast where she’d last stopped his hand. His erection nearly doubled in size where it was pressed against the softness of her stomach.
Something flickered in her eyes, but before he could name it, it was gone. Then suddenly, so was his hand from her body as she squeezed his wrist and thrust his hand away. “You are the biggest hypocrite. You’re not interested in protecting me from the unwanted attentions of men who might see me. You’re only interested in protecting yourself. How tragic it would be that the lofty Lord Belgrave desired the young lady whom he’d once spurned and condemned to a life of shame? I do hope you enjoyed this because it is the last time you’ll ever be afforded such liberties from me.”
“And why did you afford them to me at all?” he asked around the blood thundering through his ears.
“To see that my theory was correct,” she spat as she retied her bodice. “And it was.”
He scoffed and reached forward to turn her chin up so she’d have to see his eyes. “You don’t know anything about what you think you do.”
“No?” Challenge flashed in her eyes. “I know plenty. The very idea that someone else might be allowed to enjoy my body rankles you. I didn’t know why before—” she shot a triumphant glance down below his waist where only a moment ago a large erection has tented his trousers— “but now I do.”
“Any man would react that way,” he said with a snarl.
“Not one who didn’t hold any interest,” she retorted. She cocked her head to the side. “What I wonder, is why you have any interest at all when we both know you shouldn’t.”
No, he shouldn’t. Shame washed over him. “You’re right. I should not have reacted that way. I beg your forgiveness.”
She sliced a hand through the air. “I don’t want your apologies. I want you to admit the truth.”
“That your interest in me is beyond that of a friend.”
He pressed his lips together. “No.”
“Because it’s not true. I only care for you as a friend.”
She arched her brow at him.
“As I told you before, any gentleman would have responded that way.” He forced a shrug. “Breasts are breasts, Belle. Any man presented with a pair and given the freedom to touch them would do so. It doesn’t matter whose they are.”
Sebastian bristled. “Not at all. Go play that trick on any of the gentleman here tonight, they’d all have the same reaction. Even Giles.”
Her face turned scarlet. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Were you hoping I had?” he teased, giving himself pause. Did she have an interest in him? He dismissed the idea immediately. There wasn’t a single reason for her to like him and she’d made sure he was well aware of that.
“Yes, I had,” she said, inclining her chin. “I’d hoped we’d be friends. But instead all you’ve done is given me a shabby list of potential husbands and acted like the highhanded lord you are. If not desire, then I am at a loss for your reasons for being so highhanded with me. Nonetheless, I shan’t abide you or your pompous attitude a day longer.” Then, without another word, or bothering to pick up her shawl, she spun and walked from the room.
Sebastian should go after her. He knew that, but for some reason he couldn’t as part of her words kept tumbling over and over in his mind: why was he being so protective of her? In all fairness to Belle, Lady Mary’s bodice was even lower than hers had been and he hadn’t once been distracted by what she’d revealed. He fell into a nearby chair and covered his face with his hands. Breasts weren’t just breasts. Every set did not hold as much appeal as any other. At least not for him. He groaned. He did desire her.
Because we just ended one series and are starting another, I thought I’d take this week as another break and feature my latest release, Secrets of a Viscount!
I know, it’s the first scene, but once again, I think it’s the best place to start.
A sharp, scraping sound rent the chilly night’s air, jolting Isabelle Knight awake from her dreamless sleep.
Isabelle’s green eyes sprang open and her fingers clutched the bed sheets.
Another loud screech from the direction of her only bedroom window broke the deafening silence that had once again fallen over the room.
Her heart hammering wildly in her chest, she forced her eyes to the window. A billowed curtain of cream and lace and the tops of a pair of black leather boots was all she could see through the dim moonlight. The blood in her veins sped up, but her body was still paralyzed. Someone was breaking into her room and she was too frightened to do a single thing about it except remain still with her eyes locked in terror at the curtains.
“Are you ready?” a male voice whispered in the dark.
Relief flooded Isabelle’s body. She knew that voice. It belonged to her neighbor Sebastian Gentry, Viscount Belgrave. Isabelle and her sister Rachel had known Sebastian since they were children. However, just because she’d known him nearly all her life and trusted him entirely, did not explain why he was in her room, nor why was he asking if she were ready.
“Ready?” she queried, sitting up in bed and instinctively putting her hand over her chest to keep him from seeing any part of her that he shouldn’t.
Sebastian heaved a heavy sigh. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Changed my mind about what?”
“The elopement,” he burst out.
Shock, followed by anger, filled Isabelle. Rachel and Sebastian had made plans for an elopement? And they hadn’t told her. Of course they hadn’t told her. It was an elopement. That was the point. Elopements were about sneaking off and getting married without telling anyone.
She gazed at the outline of Sebastian’s broad form by her window; she had only a second to make a decision that would alter both of their lives in more ways than she could even comprehend at the moment. But the truth was, she was the daughter of a country squire in the most unpopulated part of England. Her prospects were slim at best. If she didn’t wish to become a spinster, or worse, marry a man thrice her age, there was no need to question the good fortune that had just befallen her.
“I’ve not changed my mind,” she whispered, hoping he hadn’t yet realized he’d entered the wrong room. “Why don’t you go wait on the balcony? I need to grab something, then I’ll be ready.”
“Very well,” he said crisply. He stepped through the open window to wait for her on the balcony.
Isabelle sat still for a minute. Did he not want to marry Rachel, either? His tone would suggest as much. With a shrug, she pushed to her stocking-clad feet and slid them into a pair of black slippers she kept under the edge of the bed, then grabbed her biggest hooded cloak and put it on. Though her room had been so dark all she could see of him was his outline, and she doubted he could see any more of her than that, too, she had no doubt that outside where the moon was illuminating the hillside, he’d be able to see her and know right away he’d fetched the wrong sister. That was the last thing she wanted to have happen.
Satisfied she could both walk and conceal her identity at the same time, Isabelle made her way to the window and tentatively allowed Sebastian to help her through.
“How do we get down?” she asked, scowling at the trellis. Not that she was scared to climb down it, mind you. She’d climb to the top of the Great Pyramids on her hands and knees if it meant she could have someone as young, virile, honest and sincere as Sebastian for her husband. The problem was more of how she’d climb down the trellis without having to remove her cloak and expose her identity.
“Not to worry,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. He pointed to the far end of the balcony. “To my good fortune I passed a ladder as I came through the garden.”
Isabelle nodded. A ladder would be much easier to navigate with her cloak than the trellis. “All right, then. I’ll just be on my way and wait for you at the bottom.”
Sebastian’s large, tanned hand covered hers just as her fingers closed around the top of the ladder. “I think not. I’ll go down first, that way I can hold the ladder steady for you as you come down.”
Pursing her lips and biting her tongue so not to make the retort that was waiting on the tip of her tongue, thus giving away her identity, she politely nodded her head and stepped away from the ladder. The exact thing Rachel would do.
As soon as Isabelle was far enough away from the ladder to give Sebastian ample room to climb down, he swung his leg over and descended the ladder so quickly she’d have missed it had she blinked. “All right, Rachel,” he called. He grabbed onto the sides of the ladder to keep it from moving. “Come on down. Nice and slow.”
Isabelle walked up to the ladder and halted. “Can you turn around, please?”
“Because if you’re standing beneath the ladder you’ll see right up my nightrail,” she stated primly.
He snorted. “In a matter of hours I’ll be seeing everything you have under that nightrail anyway. And more.”
Her face grew hot. She’d forgotten that little detail. If they were about to elope, they were also about to have marital relations. Unfortunately, her mother had never actually informed her of all the details, but she’d surmised from whispers she’d overheard between the servants that it involved both parties removing their clothes. She shivered. She was only sixteen and regarded Sebastian as nothing more than a friend, for her father wouldn’t allow it any other way, often reminding her of her place in this world—which was not at the side of a titled gentleman, for he would never return her love and affection. Therefore, there was no love or affection between them, perhaps a measure of adoration that she went to great pains to conceal. Instead they had friendship. And friendship would be a very acceptable foundation for a marriage, in her opinion. But still, the idea of him seeing up her nightrail—both now and then again in a few hours—made her face burn like it had caught fire.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Sebastian asked from the bottom of the ladder.
Did he want her to have second thoughts? Or more specifically, did he want Rachel to be having second thoughts and cry off? Perhaps that’s why he wanted to go down first. It made sense to her. He could have held the ladder still from the top. He’d wanted to go down first in order to find one more way to scare her out of going through with this.
Steeling her spine, she carelessly threw her leg over the edge of the balcony railing (clutching the top of the ladder for dear life at the same time), and in the most disgraceful and unladylike way possible, descended the ladder, stopping only briefly three rungs from the bottom to make sure her hood still covered her face adequately.