#FallBackInTime

I'm joining in the celebration of #FallBackInTime, where historical romance authors post selfies with their own books and readers post pics of themselves with some fave historical romances.

It's a great promotion, designed to promote a subgenre rather than an individual author, so jump in and have a go. And don't forget to include the hashtag -- #FallBackInTime

Here's me as a writer with a couple of my own books.

And here's me as a reader with a couple of my favorite Georgette Heyer novels.

And here are some of my childhood faves—historicals, though not all romances.

I hope you share some of your own faves.

Mistletoe Kisses

Do you like Christmas stories? I love them, and this year I have a story in a Christmas anthology by The Word Wenches — the group of historical romance authors I regularly blog with —  Mary Jo Putney, Jo Beverley, Patricia Rice, Joanna Bourne, Nicola Cornick, Cara Elliott and Susan King. 

My story is called Mistletoe Kisses, and it's about Allie Fenton, a young woman who, for various reasons, has never been able to attend a ball. Now orphaned and on the shelf, she's planning to become a teacher at a girl's seminary in Bath. But first there's her last Christmas at home and then, Lady Holly's famous annual Christmas ball. 

Here's a short excerpt:

"You'll come to my Christmas ball, then," Lady Holly told her. "Don't bother trying to think up any excuses — you're coming and that's that. Your year of mourning will be up, and you have no reason to stay here moldering away when I've gathered an excellent range of eligible gentlemen for your perusal."

Allie laughed. "For my perusal? As if I'm going shopping?"

"That's exactly what you'll be doing."

"Don't the gentlemen have any say in it?"

The old lady sniffed. "Women have been making men believe they have a choice for generations. Now don't be frivolous, Allie — I am determined to give you one last chance to find a husband before you go off and bury yourself in this, this school of yours." She pronounced 'school' as if she really meant 'zoo.'

Allie smiled. For all her caustic tone, Lady Holly had a very kind heart. "I would love to attend your ball, Lady Holly. . . "

The old lady frowned. "I hear a 'but' coming."

"Not really—I would truly love to dance and flirt and be madly frivolous, and your Christmas balls are legendary, and you know I've never been able to attend. But the only ball dresses I have were made for the eighteen-year-old me, and not the seven-and-twenty version. Alas" — Allie indicated her hips and bosom and grimaced — "I'm no longer the slender young thing I was."

Lady Holly snorted. "You were a scrawny young twig back then — no bosom or hips to speak of. Now you've a fine womanly figure. Besides, I've thought of that. Took the liberty of getting a dress made for you — left the box with Meadows. It should fit — got Mrs. Meadows to take your measurements from one of your current dresses."

Allie blinked in surprise. "You had a dress made for me? A ball dress?"

"Now don't get all stiff-necked on me, Allie Fenton," the old lady said in a fierce tone that didn't deceive Allie for an instant. "I was very fond of your dear mother and this is for her, as much as for you. She was so looking forward to your making your come-out and was devastated that her illness prevented it." 

"I'm not being stiff-necked, truly I'm not. I'm just. . . surprised." There was a lump in Allie's throat. She was deeply touched by the old lady's brusque kindness. And thoughtfulness. A ball dress. . . 

Lady Holly reached over and patted her hand. "Now don't look like that, my dear — I promised your mother I'd see you dancing in the arms of a handsome man, and though circumstances have prevented it in the past — and I quite see that it would have been the height of impropriety for you to go dancing when first your mother and then your father lay dying — there is nothing to prevent you now, and you will come to my ball!" 

Allie smiled mistily. "Just like Cinderella. And you've even provided the gown." 

SNIP . . . . 

The parcel, tied with string and wrapped in brown paper, lay on her bed. She untied the string and under the wrapping paper found an elegant box with a stylish gold emblem on the front. She swallowed. This was no dress from the village seamstress — it was from Lady Holly's own London mantua maker.

She eased off the lid, parted the layers of protective tissue paper and gasped. Almost holding her breath, she drew the dress from its nest of tissue. It was beautiful. 

The underdress was a light shimmering lilac shade that she just knew would go perfectly with both her recent mourning, and also her coloring. But the lovely silk underdress was quite cast in the shade by the delicate overdress in some kind of gauzy fabric through which the lilac silk shimmered. Embroidered here and there with tiny rosebuds in silver thread, it was finished with bands of delicately gathered silver lace around the hem and at the elbows of the puffed sleeves, and a line of silver embroidery around the neck.

In the box, hidden beneath the dress, was underwear — not the kind of underwear that Allie had ever in her life worn — delicate, lacy, flimsy, exquisite underwear — a chemise, a petticoat, the daintiest, most feminine drawers, and even a corset. All were trimmed with lace, and everything but the corset was practically transparent. Almost scandalous. 

She remembered Lady Holly's comment that she had the figure of a woman now, not a girl. Allie had never really given it much thought. But now . . . these were certainly underclothes for a woman, not a girl. Smiling to herself, she put the lovely, naughty underclothes back in the box. She'd probably die a spinster, but she would treasure these forever.

She picked up the dress again, held it against her body and turned to gaze at her reflection in the looking glass. It was the most beautiful dress she'd ever owned. And it suited her perfectly. The lilac color complemented her pale complexion and her dark hair, and even seemed to make her very ordinary gray eyes look almost exotic. The silver thread gleamed and shimmered in the light. It was a dress made for dancing. . .

How many years since she'd danced? And never at a ball.

Delight bubbled up in her. After what felt like years wearing mourning black and gray, this dress felt like a breath of spring. And yet even the highest sticklers could not look askance at her — lavender and lilac were approved colors for half mourning.

But would it fit? She stripped off her old black gown and, holding her breath, she carefully slipped the ball gown over her head. And breathed. It was perfect. It was more than perfect.

She gazed at her reflection, gave a sudden laugh and twirled around and around, as if she were a giddy, carefree girl again.

She felt just like Cinderella. And she was going to the ball.

                    cccccccccccccc

The LAST CHANCE CHRISTMAS BALL comes out on 29th September 2015. 
Buy it from your favorite bookshop, or try one of these links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon Canada 

Amazon Australia 

From Booktopia, Australia

For iTunes

For your Nook

From Books a Million

From the Book Depository, which ships for free around the world.

An Evening of Fantasy & Romance

Like to read? Talk books and writing and storytelling? Meet authors? Come join me and three of my writing buddies in Melbourne on June 18th at Dymocks Bookstore in Collins St in the heart of Melbourne. 

It's free, but you need to RSVP for the event at www.trybooking.com/HXNC Bring along a printout of your ticket to win a book pack including 2 signed titles from each of us!

Hope to see you there.

#FallBackInTime

I've never understood why some people don't like historicals — for me they're not "books about history" but stories set in a different place, that's all. A good story is a good story, and I don't care if it's historical, paranormal, contemporary, crime or whatever. As long as it sweeps me away to somewhere else, I'm a happy reader.

I think it started when I was a kid. I read every book I could lay my hands on and didn't care what sort of book it was, as long as it entertained me. So I don't get it when people tell me "I don't read historicals" or "I only read historicals" or "I don't read paranormals" or "I only read contemporaries" or whatever.

I got a letter from a reader recently telling me that she doesn't usually read historicals, she always thought they were boring, but she was given a copy of one of my books. It sat there for ages, and she was going to give it away, but she started reading it one day when she had nothing else to read — and now she's bought the rest in the series.

I have a number of letters like that. I think that's the key to liking any subgenre - you just have to find one book or author you like, and it opens you up to others.

A historical author group is promoting a "Fall back in time" campaign, where people post selfies with a favorite historical romance. So here's a couple of pics of me, with two of my fave Georgette Heyers. I first read her when I was a kid, and I've reread some of her books umpteen times — they're some of my favorite comfort reads.

What I love about these books is that they're funny and lively. Venetia is the most romantic - it's about a bad-boy rake and a beautiful heroine who is very much a match for him. But there's some very funny moments — he's the kind of rake who can charm women, and to see him bend "nurse" around his thumb is a delight.

The Unknown Ajax is about a gorgeous hero who is so quietly self-confident that when he realizes everyone thinks he is some illiterate clod, can't resist playing up to the role.

I'll post a few more favorites — other authors I love — in a few days. In the meantime, do you have a fave historical?

Sparky Tabasco, on The Winter Bride

Freddy & Marriage ~ part 1

Freddy has been quizzing Damaris on her aversion to marriage:

She rounded on him suddenly. "Why don't you want to get married?"

"What? None of your b—"

She smiled. "Exactly. And yet marriage offers you so much; a wife to run your home and do your bidding—"

Freddy snorted. "Do my bidding? You don't know much about wives if that's what you think."

"A companion, children—isn't it your duty to produce an heir to continue the family name? What do they say, 'an heir and a spare'?"

Freddy loathed the expression. 

"Or is it women you have an aversion for? I know some men—"

"I do not have an aversion for women!"

"Well then, why don't you want to marry?"

Nettled, Freddy stared at her in frustrated silence. 

She gave a little grin. "See? Not so much fun when you get a taste of your own medicine, is it?"

THE WINTER BRIDE - Snippet #3

Mrs Jenkins (Damaris's employer) on  our hero, Freddy:

“Tomcat in gen’leman’s clothing, that’s what ’e is—a rake through and through.”

“Rake? You thought—”

Mrs. Jenkins snorted. “I knew what he was the instant I clapped eyes on him! Dressed like that in his fancy duds at this hour of the mornin’. The cheek of ’im, thinking he could seduce away one o’ my girls in broad daylight.”

“But he wasn’t—”

“Bless you, my dove, you’re too young to recognize a Wicked Seducer when you see one, and I grant you that one is an ’andsome devil, and charmin’ as an oiled snake, I have no doubt!” She fixed Damaris with a gimlet eye. “But it don’t do for a girl like you to catch the eye of a gentleman, take it from me. He’ll soften you up with sweet words and little gifts and . . . and poetry, and you’ll think ’e’s ever such a nice fellow, then in the twinklin’ of an eye, he’ll ’ave your skirts over your ’ead, and there you’ll be, rooned forever!”

“But Mrs. Jenkins—”

“Rooned forever!” Mrs. Jenkins repeated firmly. “And we don’t want that, do we? Now, I’ve given him a piece of me mind—blistered ’is ear’oles good and proper, I did—and if ’e knows what’s good for ’im, he won’t be back to bother you again, so let’s get to work.”

"A romantic winner, with Gracie's typical witty charm and sweeping emotion." Kirkus reviews

More at:  bitly.com/1c6gAY7

I have books!

Hooray! The advance copies of my new book, THE WINTER BRIDE (an RT Top Pick!) have just arrived.

Normally they don't get here until just after the book comes out, so I'm thrilled to have them a little bit early. Of course I ripped open the box and tossed them onto the rug to take a photograph.

They look pretty, don't they?

I have a couple of friends who've been waiting impatiently to read this, so they'll be pleased.

The rest of you will have to either wait until the book is out (April 1st) or visit me on the various blogs I'm touring and leave a comment. I'll be giving away a book at each blog.

You'll be notified about the blog tour here, and also on Facebook and Twitter, where I'll also be posting snippets of the story (there's one below this post —scroll down) and the occasional review.

THE WINTER BRIDE (RT Top Pick) Our hero Freddy on Pride and Prejudice:

When his best friend Max asks him to attend his aunt's literary society, our hero, Freddy, is appalled:

“Not the literary society. The horror stories those girls read are enough to make a fellow’s hair stand on end.”

Max frowned. “Horror stories? They don’t read horror stories, only entertaining tales of the kind ladies seem to enjoy, about girls and gossip and families—”

“Horror stories, every last one of them,” Freddy said firmly. “You asked me to sit in on their literary society last month, when you went up to Manchester, remember? The story they were reading then . . .” He gave an eloquent shudder. “Horror from the very first line: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Must he, indeed? What about the poor fellow’s wants, eh? Do they matter? No. Every female in the blasted story was plotting to hook some man for herself or her daughter or niece. If you don’t call that horror, I don’t know what is!”

Max chuckled.

“You can laugh, bound as you are for parson’s noose in the morning,” Freddy said bitterly, “but every single man in that story ended up married by the end of the book! Every last one.” He numbered them off on his fingers. “The main fellow, his best friend, the parson, even the soldier fellow ended up married to the silly light-skirt sister—not one single man in that story escaped unwed.” He shuddered again. “Enough to give a man nightmares. So, no literary society for me, thank you.”

* * * * *

There's another excerpt here.

Preorder THE WINTER BRIDE:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Indie bound

Book Depository UK

Booktopia (Australia)

Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

I found this, that someone sent me and it gave me a chuckle. For all those experiencing heat - or not.
( From  http://xkcd.com/1026/ )

A small taste of the Autumn Bride

Excerpt from The Autumn Bride:

“I’ll take the very best care of you, as if you were indeed my beloved aunt. We all will.”

“I believe you child. You’ve already done me a power of good.”

Abby was puzzled. “In what way?”

“I was so bored before you came along! Now I have gels in breeches climbing through my window at all hours of the night, bringing me soup and conversation and plotting to sack my butler. And gels bringing me cats and kittens, and who knows what else? For the first time in…oh, forever, I want to see what the next day brings.”

Abby looked at her in astonishment, then found herself grinning. “It’s going to be an adventure for all of us, isn’t it?”

“It is, dear gel, it is,” Lady Beatrice said. “And I can’t wait.”

* * * * *

US Edition
Barnes&Noble
Amazon.com
IndieBound
The Book DepositoryUK
ISBN—13 (USA): 978—0425259252

Australian edition
Booktopia
Fishpond.com.au

ISBN (Australia) 978-1921901409

'Twas the Lull after Christmas. . .

Here's a little poem I composed for that period after Christmas.

'Twas the lull after Christmas

And all through the house

Not a creature was stirring

Not even a spouse.

Leftovers are placed

On the fridge shelves with care

With instructions that 

"You all can just graze from there."

"Please do not disturb me

Unless there is blood.

'Tis my time for reading

'Bout a fictional stud."

"Just leave me alone

With my books for a while

I'm a much nicer person

With the TBR pile."

Read the rest of the post that goes with this poem here, at The Season for Romance.
And if you go there, scroll down to the post below mine— they're giving away a kindle.
(That's not my TBR pile, by the way — I borrowed it from www.morbid-romantic.net)

Kerry Greenwood's Corinna Chapman books

I've been on a Kerry Greenwood reading binge lately. It started when I went to SheKilda, the Sisters in Crime conference a few weeks ago, and browsing through the bookstore, I spotted a series of hers I hadn't read. I've been reading her Phryne Fisher books since the first one was published in 1989 — and there are currently 19 in the series. (And by the way, I'm interviewing Kerry over at Word Wenches right now, and she's giving away a book to someone who leaves a comment.)

But I hadn't read the Corinna Chapman series at all. So I bought the first one at the conference... and ended up buying and devouring all 6 in the series.

They're cosy contemporary mysteries set in the heart of Melbourne — in the laneways/arcades area of central Melbourne, an area I happen to be very familiar with, especially because I've taught at the CAE and also done some courses there myself. The main character, Corinna Chapman is an accountant turned baker, and her shop is on this very lane.

Corinna lives above the shop in an elegant eccentrically designed Roman-themed apartment building, a lot like the one below.

It's a very foodie-friendly area, with all kinds of small coffee shops and restaurants, all of which are pretty good because the area has so many eateries the competition is fierce. Apparently these days it's also become a place for tourists to visit and take photos of the vibrant grafitti that abounds in any unused space. They also eat and shop.

There's also a wide variety of choices, for eating and shopping -- from the funky little places like the ones pictured above, to the timeless and elegant Block Arcade, which has been a popular destination for shoppers and eaters since the 1880s.

Part of the ritual of coming up to the city from the country when I was a kid  — if you'd been good — was having morning or afternoon tea at the Hopetoun Tea Rooms — still a gorgeous place to visit and just as popular now as it was when it opened in 1892. You can see why — and there are more delights inside...

So it's the perfect setting for mysteries that also feature yummy food (it's not recommended that you read the series while dieting) a cast of quirky and interesting other characters, a gorgeous ongoing romance, and some delightful cats.

A friend of mine who lives in another state altogether loves this Kerry Greenwood series, too. "For me, it's got a very Melbourne vibe," she told me, "but it might not ring as true to a Melbournian."

 But it does to this Melbournian, completely. The books are a lot of fun in themselves, but you don't need to know the place to enjoy the books. 

Though I have to admit it's fun knowing the places where Corinna and her Daniel visit. It's a rare pleasure to read a book set in a place you know well. 

What about you — have you read any books set in your home town?

My favourite Easter picture book

I made some paper earrings for a friend the other day and the colours reminded me of my favourite easter picture book when I was a kid, The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes. It was my mother's book, and I have it still.

The story is very sweet, and with a nice moral to it — mother rabbit, despite having 21 kids and living in the backblocks of the country, still gets plum job over noisy show-off buckrabbit boys and frightful snobby city rabbits. Basically by using her kids as slave labour.

The story is about being selected to wear the magic gold shoes and being one of the five Easter Bunnies who deliver the eggs to the children of the world. It's a huge honour, of course, and everyone wants it. But when the country bunny Cottontail says that one day she will be an Easter Bunny, the others laugh at her.

So fast forward and our Cottontail is a mother of 21 little rabbits, but she applies for the job and again she's laughed at for dreaming foolish dreams. Even the wise old rabbit who does the choosing asks her gently if she shouldn't be home looking after her kids. But our girl has the kids well trained. Working in pairs they do everything that needs to be done, from cooking and cleaning to dancing, making music and painting cheery pictures.

The illustrations are lovely, aren't they? They're simple but quite detailed and with a limited palette of colours, and quite unusual colours, at that.

For me then and now, they're entrancing, but more than that, the story is quite touching.
The job of being the easter bunny is hard and exhausting and little Cottontail doesn't have an easy time of it. After all her deliveries are done, there's still one more job for her — to take an especially beautiful egg to a far-distant mountain where there is a sick little boy, who is very good and never complains. She travels far, over high mountains,  and is climbing the last, highest mountain when she falls... but saves the egg. But it's almost dawn. How can she ever find the energy to climb the mountain again, in time.

Then the wise old rabbit appears and tells her she's not only wise and kind and swift, but she's brave. And he gives her a pair of magic gold shoes. And suddenly her aching feet are no longer tired... and she takes the beautiful egg to the sick little boy and is soon home... where her house is in perfect order, and all her kids are still asleep in bed.

It's a gorgeous book, and even though it's older than me, it's still in print, which goes to show that I'm not the only person who loves this story.
Happy Easter. Do you have any favorite Easter stories?

Farewell Eva Ibbotson

Eva Ibbotson— one of my favorite writers in all the world — died on Wednesday and I'm feeling very sad. 


Many people know and love her children's books — Which Witch, The Secret of Platform 13, The Journey to the River Sea and many more, but I first came to Eva Ibbotson through her adult romances. They were well out of print when I discovered them, but I hunted them down on the internet until I had a full collection. I didn't care that I'd paid quite a bit of money for battered old library editions; the contents were gold.

However last year they were reissued— as YA books for some odd reason — and it was great because the books found a whole new audience, and also because I was able to press her books on friends without risking their non-return.  I did a Word Wench interview with Eva last year, when she was 84.


She left behind her a brilliant legacy — these are books that will live on, as Georgette Heyer's books have lived on, but one of  her stories that might not live on is a small piece she wrote in support of public libraries, and it's one of my favorites. 
It starts:

I was eight years old when I came to Britain as a refugee - and was not particularly grateful. Mostly this was because after years and years of being a sheep coming to the manger, or a grazing cow, I had at last landed the part of the Virgin Mary in the nativity play at my convent school in Vienna.

And then ... Hitler.      read the rest here.

You can listen to a podcast interview with Eva here.


Eva said once in an interview  that she thought of her books as a present for readers.
They are indeed a gift she has left to the world.
Vale Eva Ibbotson.