Spotlight/Author Guest Post/Giveaway ~ STOLEN TIME ~ Chloé Duval

STOLEN TIME

by Chloé Duval

Genre: Fiction, Sweet Romance

Pub Date: 6/13/17

In a rural French village, a letter is delivered decades late, inspiring a young woman to try to reunite two star-crossed lovers . . .

Middle school teacher by day, romance writer by night, and group knitter on Tuesday evenings, Flavie Richalet leads a fairly uneventful life—until she receives a long delayed letter meant for a total stranger. Postmarked 1971, the yellowed envelope, addressed to an Amélie Lacombe, holds a fervent message of love and a marriage proposal, signed only with the initial E. Given her own fractured family history, Flavie is dreamily determined to learn what became of the couple . . .

Flavie’s inquiries lead her to a French seaside inn—and to E. himself, a true romantic who never forgot the girl who got away so many years ago. But his protective nephew, B&B owner Romaric, isn’t sure that trying to find Amélie after all these years is good for his uncle. At odds with the tall, dark, and impossibly passionate Romaric, Flavie must show him, and perhaps herself, that true love is timeless—and always worth waiting for . . .

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The “butterflies”, or why I love feel-good romances.

It all began in Scotland, really. Or at least, that’s where I discovered their true power.

All through my teens, I had been an avid reader of crime fiction, making my way through all of Mary Higgins Clark’s and Agatha Christie’s bibliography, feeding off those few action-packed pages when all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fall into place and the heroes rush to stop the murderer and save everyone. And when I wasn’t buried into fictional murders, rereading books over and over again looking for the clues I had missed, I was devouring classic novels with troubled souls and intense relationships and love as passionate as it was destructive: Jane Eyre (which, as of today, remains one of my favorite books ever), Wuthering Heights, Anna Karenina, Romeo and Juliet, to name but a few.

And then, one summer, as a sophomore, I went to Scotland to work as an au pair. And one fine day, as the children I was taking care of were otherwise occupied with their parents, I watched a film. A romantic comedy. It was While you were sleeping. That’s when I felt… them. The butterflies. They started quivering their wings in my stomach as soon as Jack appeared on the screen, and never stopped until the last image faded away with a radiant Sandra Bullock marrying the man of her dreams and riding away to her happy ending. By the time the credits were done, I had a goofy smile on my face, and I was feeling cozy, warm and really really happy. As if I was the one getting a beautiful HEA.

That day, my life changed, totally. I started reading romances, feel-good romances, watching every romcom that I could get my hands on, all for the sole purpose of feeling those butterflies again. And then, many years later, it hit me. I needed to write feel-good romances, and I needed to write them now. Reading wasn’t enough anymore. I too wanted to make people feel good. I too wanted to make people all gooey on the inside, and put a goofy smile on their lips. I too wanted to bring a little more light, a little more joy, and a little more happiness to the world. So I started writing. M first attempts were not that good, but nevertheless, I persisted, with the encouragement of my best friend. One day, as I was stuck on a novel that didn’t want to be written, two things happened. I saw Letters to Juliet, and heard about a postcard that made its way to its addressee quite a few decades after being mailed. Those two otherwise unrelated events made me start thinking… what if it was a love letter that got lost in the mail? What if in that love letter, a man asked a woman to elope with him, but she never received it? What if life kept them apart after that? What if… what if… Cheeks burning hot with excitement, my heart beating hard against my ribcage, I sat down with a pen and a notebook and started jotting down ideas, plots, character profiles, and that love letter that would be at the center of my story.

A few months later, Stolen Time was born. And it was everything that I had ever wanted to write. It was a story that put its arms around me, right from the beginning, filling me with warmth and kindness and telling me, on days when everything seemed dark, “It’s gonna be alright. You are not alone. Everything’s going to work out in the end.”

And that’s why I love feel-good romances, to read and to write. Because it’s a little spot of light in the dark, and it’s a bottomless pit of emotions in the tiny organ that is our heart.

As a little girl, Chloé Duval dreamed of knights slaying terrifying dragons and damsels in distress. Today, she’s still seeking, in her stories, to find again the sweetness and the enchantment of the fairy tales she absorbed as a child. A Frenchwoman by birth, Canadian by adoption, and Québecoise in her heart, Chloé lives in Montreal with her prince charming and dozens of characters jostling around inside her head.

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Review/Author Guest Post~ ONLY A MISTRESS WILL DO ~ Jenna Jaxon

The man of her dreams . . . belongs to another woman.

ONLY A MISTRESS WILL DO 

by Jenna Jaxon

Pub date: 4/4/2017

Genre: Historical Romance

Destitute and without friends, Violet Carlton is forced to seek employment at the House of Pleasure in London. She steels herself for her first customer and is shocked when the man rescues her instead of ravishing her. A grateful Violet cannot help but admire the handsome Viscount Trevor. But she must curb her desire for the dashing nobleman she can never have because he is already betrothed to another...

Tristan had gone to the House of Pleasure for a last bit of fun before he became a faithful married man. But when he recognizes the woman in his bed, he becomes determined to save her instead. Now, his heart wars with his head as he falls for the vulnerable courtesan. Unable to break his betrothal without a scandal, Tris resolves to find Violet proper employment or a husband of her own. Still, his arms ache for Violet, urging him to abandon propriety and sacrifice everything to be with the woman he loves...

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~ Review ~

3*

ONLY A MISTRESS WILL DO is the 3rd book in the House of Pleasure series. I haven't read the previous books and I had no trouble reading it as a stand alone. It's also my first Jenna Jaxon novel.

I'm finding it very hard to write a review for this book. It wasn't bad but it wasn't great either. It kind of left me flat. The characters were likable enough and the story was ok. The romance was ok. You definitely didn't know what form of drama was going to hit them next. It kinda has a Regency feel even though it's set in 1761.  

It really pains me to write a review like this because I know authors put blood, sweat and tears into their writing. Not to mention the hours of writing and editing. I will definitely try another book by this author because I'm all for 2nd chances.

I received this book for review on Celtic Dragon Book Reviews.  All opinions are my own. 

Author Guest Post:

My Life in the Theatre

Long before I began writing romance novels, I had a whole other career in another romantic form of creativity—the world of theatre. My love of the stage began in 3rd grade when I created a puppet show based on a children’s story I had written (my first effort at prose fiction was called Miss Priss Finds a Kitten). In fourth grade, I did an adapted script for another children’s book called The Littlest Witch, and in a high school English class I gave a very bad presentation of Edward Albee’s The Sandbox (which I certainly did NOT understand at the time).

Outside class projects, however, I fell in love with theatre in Mr. Zaruba’s Driver’s Ed class when he described the plays he was directing for the high school. I volunteered to be the follow-spot operator, and a career was born. I ran lights throughout my high school years and was convinced I would go to college to study technical theatre become a techie. (I did have one role on stage, Juror Five in 12 Angry Men—adapted as 12 Angry Jurors—in which I had fun, but not as much fun as off stage.)

When I got to college, however, I discovered early on that a career in lighting was simply too technical for me. I stage managed (ran the show and called the light and sound cues) and enjoyed that very much, but when I volunteered to be the assistant director for a friend’s boyfriend, I was completely hooked on directing. The first plays I directed were two one acts—written again by me and a friend—and the day of the first show there was a blizzard and only six people showed up in the audience.

From there I went on to direct other shows I enjoyed—The Chalk Garden, No Exit, Annie Get Your Gun (my first paid directing job for a local high school). I ended up going back to school and getting a Master of Fine Arts in Directing and I have been directing something ever since. After getting a Ph.D. in Theatre History, Theory, and Criticism, I accepted a job at a small college in Virginia and have been happily teaching theatre and directing ever since. I’ve directed Shakespeare—Taming of the Shrew, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream—and lots of modern plays, such as Crimes of the Heart, A Streetcar Named Desire, Blues for an Alabama Sky, Dearly Departed, How I Learned to Drive, Joe Turner’s Come and Gone and a dozen more.

Now I juggle theatre with writing and I will say, they are two full-time jobs. But I wouldn’t trade either world for the other, or my life in the theatre.

Jenna Jaxon is a multi-published author of historical and contemporary romance. She has been reading and writing historical romance since she was a teenager. A romantic herself, she has always loved a dark side to the genre, a twist, suspense, a surprise—so expect her to incorporate these elements into her work! She lives in Virginia with her family and a small menagerie of pets where she is currently working on the next House of Pleasure book, Only A Mistress Will Do, as well as a Regency series. When not reading or writing, she indulges her passion for the theatre, working with local theatres as a director. She often feels she is directing her characters on their own private stage when she writes. Jenna equates her writing to an addiction to chocolate—once she starts she just can’t stop!

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Review/Author Guest Post ~ TO SEDUCE A STRANGER ~ Susanna Craig

TO SEDUCE A STRANGER

by Susanna Craig

Pub date: 4/11/2017

Genre: Historical Romance

Desire waylays the plans of a man with a mysterious past and a woman with an uncertain future, in
Susanna Craig’s unforgettable series set in Georgian England.

After her much older husband dies—leaving her his fortune—Charlotte Blakemore finds herself at
the mercy of her stepson, who vows to contest the will and destroy her life. With nowhere to turn
and no one to help her, she embarks on an elaborate ruse—only to find herself stranded on the way to
London. . .

More than twenty years in the West Indies have hardened Edward Cary, but not enough to abandon a
helpless woman at a roadside inn—especially one as disarmingly beautiful as Charlotte. He takes her
with him to the Gloucestershire estate he is determined to restore, though he is suspicious of every word
that falls from her distractingly lush lips.

As far as Charlotte knows, Edward is nothing more than a steward, and there’s no reason to reveal his
Noble birth until he can right his father’s wrongs. Acting as husband and wife will keep people in the
village from asking questions that neither Charlotte nor Edward are willing to answer. But the game
they’re each determined to play has rules that beg to broken, when the passion between them threatens
to uncover the truth—for better or worse. . .

Chapter 1
Ravenswood Manor, Gloucestershire June 1775

For some time now, the parlor maid had been neglecting to sweep into the nook between the bow window and the high-backed sofa in her ladyship’s receiving room. The wide beam of afternoon sun- light was thick with dust motes that settled softly on the floor, dimming the luster of the damasked furniture and coating the hems of the rose velvet draperies.

The maid’s shortcomings suited the boy just fine. In the dusty, narrow crevice, he had built a world he did not wish to have disturbed. An entire battalion of soldiers stood perpetually at the ready, apparently unconcerned at their precarious field position; flanked on two sides by the wall and the sofa’s back, they could only advance or retreat, and as they were English soldiers, retreat was never an option.

On this day, however, they faced a new enemy.

Just yesterday, the boy had begged for a ship that he might expand into a navy, although he knew his father thought him too old for such playthings. Hardly had the request been out of his mouth before Father had erupted, insisting that no son of his would become . . . well, he wasn’t sure quite what his father had said, but it had begun with “arse,” a sure insult and one never to be spoken in front of a lady, which was probably why Mama had very nearly swooned when she heard it.

A heated exchange between his parents had surely followed, but the boy had been spared from it by being sent to his lessons. He ought to be there again now, but he had played truant instead and sneaked back to his favorite hideaway as soon as he could manage it. To thwart his father’s prohibition, he had pinched his mother’s sewing basket from the table as he passed, thinking it would make a fine pirate’s ship. Next, he set to work scraping the painted uniforms off three soldiers whose leaden expressions made them the most likely candidates for notorious men of fortune. With a flourish, he drew a wavy line in the dust on the floor to mark out the shore and positioned the ship with its broadside facing his unsuspecting troops.

As the pirate captain knelt to touch off his cannon, the boy heard his mother’s light footsteps, followed by a tread he could not immediately identify.

“So kind of you to drop in, Mrs. Henderson,” Mama said .

Mrs. Henderson was the vicar’s wife, a heavyset woman with a prominent nose and hair the color of a mouse’s hide. But she always smelled of gingerbread and was kind to him and the other boys tutored by Mr. Henderson’s curate, Cummings.

“Will you take tea?”

“It’s very kind of you, I’m sure, but I can’t stay, my lady. I only called to see if young Ravenswood was unwell. He wasn’t at his Latin lesson today, and Mr. Cummings seemed to think that he wasn’t quite himself yesterday.”

“Oh, that!” Mama laughed, a shade too brightly. “He was petulant because his father forbade him a new toy.” Her words made him bristle. “Boys will be boys, Mrs. Henderson. But I’ll see to it he does not miss another lesson.”

A long pause. “And you, my lady—are you quite well?” It seemed Mrs. Henderson was not content to let sleeping dogs lie.

“I? Why, yes, of course,” replied Mama.

The boy heard the click of the door latch, and before he could wonder who had dared to close a door that Father never allowed any- one to close but him, he heard Mrs. Henderson say, “My lady, I know it’s not my place. But that’s an ugly-looking bruise.”

When Mama had come in last evening to say goodnight, he had seen the bruise at her hairline near her temple, only partially hidden by her lace-edged cap. He could picture her slender hand rising now to shield her face from the other woman’s sight. “It’s nothing. I—I tripped and—”

“No need to make excuse, my lady. But perhaps a poultice—?”

“Oh, no, no.” She brushed the suggestion aside. She did not like anything that drew attention to her supposed clumsiness, he knew. Neither did his father.

He heard Mrs. Henderson’s footsteps cross the carpet quickly and when she spoke again, her voice was low.

“I know we mightn’t have much time to speak freely, my lady. Isn’t there anything a body can do to help you? Perhaps if Mr. Henderson spoke with his lordship?”

“Oh, God, no. Please, Mrs. Henderson. Say nothing more.”

“I will speak, my lady. I can’t do otherwise. It’s abroad in the village what’s become of your parlor maid.” His mother gave a hiccup of surprise. “You dared to speak on her behalf, I suppose.”

Someone stumbled to the sofa and sank down upon it—Mama, by the sound of it; the bulk of Mrs. Henderson soon followed. Their voices were quieter still, but now, only inches from his ear, he could not help but hear them. “I thought perhaps I could persuade him to let her stay on—in the village, of course, not here—at least until the child is born . . .”

“But he wants no evidence of his crime hereabouts?” The sofa creaked as one of the women shifted. “What would you have me say, Mrs. Henderson? I cannot speak ill of my husband.”

“No, of course not.” Mrs. Henderson managed to sound at once wry and sympathetic. “Isn’t there somewhere you could go?”

“How could I leave my son?”

“Do you fear for his safety, then?”

Mama laughed again, but the sound was suddenly strange to him. “I fear for his life, Mrs. Henderson.” The boy crouched lower in his hiding spot, careful not to disturb the orderly ranks and files of soldiers at his feet.

“Dear God in Heaven! Do you mean—?”

“I mean that if left to his own devices, my husband will raise his son in his image. So now, while I can, I intervene. His mother’s influence may be the only stay against a violent nature.”

A violent nature? Did Mama believe he was fated to turn out like Father? People seemed to delight in telling him how he took after the man. In looks, certainly—he was big for his age, and dark where his mother was fair. Mr. Cummings insisted that must be where his quickness came from, too. Neither Latin nor algebra required much effort. But what if—the boy glanced down at the soldier still clutched in his hand—what if that is not all I have inherited?

“When he’s sent to school, however,” Mama continued, “I will leave. A visit to my sister’s—an extended holiday, we shall say.” He had never heard his mother use that tone of voice. It was something more than angry, more than stubborn.

“Oh, my lady.” Mrs. Henderson clucked her tongue. “But in the meantime . . . ?”

Mama rose to her feet and crossed to the door, opening it wide. The sudden gust of air through the room swirled the dust on the floor at his feet. A sneeze threatened, tickling deep in his nostrils, but he pinched the bridge of his nose to keep it at bay. “It was kind of you to call, Mrs. Henderson.”

The sofa protested once more as the vicar’s wife stood, and he heard her shuffle into a curtsy. “I am at your service, your ladyship.” They left, and the boy was alone again in the dusty silence. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the figure he held, as if it were some sort of talisman. When the other boys had teased little Molly Keating about her freckles, Mr. Cummings had told him it was a gentle- man’s duty to protect a lady.

How he wished he were a pirate captain! What wouldn’t he do then to keep his mother safe? He would whisk her away across the seven seas, take her somewhere his father could not harm her again.

Alas, he had no ship, no cannon, not even a cutlass. He shoved angrily, impotently at the sewing basket, which plowed into the soldiers lining the shore, breaking their ranks. She could leave when he did, she had said. But he would not be going away to school for more than two years. Terrible things might happen in that time. If only it were in his power to leave now.

He studied the pirate’s painted face. Father was fond of saying that every Bristol merchant was a pirate at heart. And they had ships, the boy knew. He had seen them once when Mama had taken him to the harbor on an outing. If there were pirates so near as Bristol, he could run away and join them. He supposed Mama would worry about what had become of him. Mothers did worry, he knew. But she would forgive him if she were able to leave this place.

Away from his mother’s gentle guidance, he risked becoming more like his father. But what choice did he have?

His shoulders rounded under the weight of his decision, the boy began to pack up his soldiers. Perhaps his father had been right all along, for he suddenly felt far too old for such playthings. At the least, he would try very hard to be grown-up enough not to long for the day when he could come home

    3.5*

    TO SEDUCE A STRANGER is a delightful tale of secrets and how they aren't as bad as we think they

    are. 

    Charlotte Blakemore, a recent widow, is trying to hide from her stepson who is trying to destroy her life

    by taking everything her late husband has left her. 

    Edward Cary left home when he was just 9 years old in an attempt to save his mother from his cruel father.  

    It took me a little bit to get into this story as it's a little slow in the beginning, although it does pick up.

    I was a little confused about some of the secondary characters like Tempest and Jack. I have not read

    The previous books in the series so maybe that's why. But overall it's a good story with some surprises.
    I will look for future stories by this author. And for what's it's worth..I LOVE the cover.

    I received a reviewers copy for Celtic Dragon Book Reviews. All opinions are my own. 

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A love affair with historical romances led Susanna Craig to a degree (okay, three degrees) in literature and a career as an English professor. When she’s not teaching or writing academic essays about Jane Austen and 

her contemporaries, she enjoys putting her fascination with words and knowledge of the period to better use: writing Regency-era romances she hopes readers will find both smart and sexy. She makes her home among 

the rolling hills of Kentucky horse country, along with her historian husband, their unstoppable little girl, and 

a genuinely grumpy cat.

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Giveaway/Guest Post/My Review ~WITHIN A CAPTAIN'S POWER ~ Lisa A. Olech

WITHIN A CAPTAIN'S POWER 

by Lisa Olech

PUB DATE: 4/4/2017

Genre: Historical Romance

Never underestimate the power of a pirate . . .

Captain James Steele is duty bound to capture the privateer Scarlet Night and bring her rebellious crew to England to hang. Then he will leave his majesty’s service, make an upstanding marriage, and join the landed gentry. But the winds of fate are blowing the straitlaced commander utterly off course.

Once aboard, James comes face to face with a pirate boy who is in reality fierce, desperate—and gorgeous—Samantha Christian, on the run from a sadistic Virginia plantation owner. With her identity unbound, the good captain dutifully takes her under his personal command, whereupon decorum goes out the porthole. But while his heart is lost to Samantha by the time they reach England, her noose still awaits. Now James’s sense of duty will be severely tested. As for Samantha, she has a plan, and a duty, of her own . . .

~My Review~

WITHIN A CAPTAIN'S POWER is my first Lisa Olech novel so I read it as a standalone and had no problems at all.  

I really enjoyed this book. I went through a whole range of emotions. I laughed, wanted to cry, and at one point I wanted to throw it.  But that just means I'm really into it.  

I loved the characters, especially Ducky and Bump. The main characters, Capt. James Steele and Samantha Christian are a classic love-at-first-sight story. They can't stop thinking about each other. Frankly if I had been Samantha, I'd probably never got as far as she did with the circumstances she was thrown into. James is completely swoon-worthy. He's loyal, trustworthy, devoted and of course, handsome. 

The story has twists, turns and quite a few surprises. It will appeal to your adventurous side as you go from Virginia to the Scarlett Night to the Lion and then onto London.

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Author Guest Post:

Let’s Talk about Pirates!

Let’s start by dressing the part. Most pirates’ clothing was stolen from their prey. Captains picked the nicest and most fashionable garments so everyone would know, “Hey, look at me, I’m the Captain!” There are reports that captains fearing capture would rush below deck and change into something less fancy so they could blend into their crew and receive an easier punishment.

How about an earring? There are a host of reasons and theories regarding pirates wearing earrings. Some believe an earring marked the first time the sailor crossed the equator, or sailed the vicious waters around Cape Horn. Others claim that sailors believed precious metals pierced through their earlobes actually improved their eyesight. There is another theory that the gold and silver was to pay for their funerals. With their names and home ports engraved within the hoop, if they washed up on shore, their bodies could be sent home. And yet another reason for an earring is to hang waxed earplugs from in case you were a gunner and too close to those exploding cannons! Me…I just think they made those seafaring bad boys a bit more rakish.

There is some debate regarding eye patches. Yes, there’s evidence of pirates losing arms, legs, and eyes. But some believe that eye patches were worn so pirates could keep one eye adjusted to seeing in the dark found below deck. Black Beard had a wooden leg, but it wasn’t due to a 10lb. cannon ball removing his limb. It was due to diabetes. If a pirate lost a leg in battle, most times they never survived the injury, and it certainly ended their career. It is true that Captain James Hook did have an iron hook that replaced his missing hand, however. Here I thought that was only Peter Pan fiction!

Speaking of fiction… there is little evidence of anyone ‘walking the plank.’ If pirates want you tossed into the water, over the rail ye went! Of course, there were more gruesome forms of punishment. Flogging, marooning, keelhauling, and hanging…by various parts of your body…from the highest yardarm!

Also, there’s no record of a pirate having a parrot as a pet. Cats were common aboard ship to keep the mice and rat population at bay, (FYI…white cats were considered bad luck.) but parrots were seen more for the money they would bring than for a colorful shoulder accessory.

Not all pirates were cutthroats. In fact, they were fairly civilized. Rules were strictly followed regarding fighting amongst the crew, gambling onboard, compensation should you be wounded or killed. Everyone received a fair share according to rank and decisions were made by democratic vote. Stealing from a crewmember was a major no no. There were ‘gentlemen’ pirates who were well known for treating their crews and captives well. Stede Bonnet was one of these gentlemen pirates. He was a wealthy plantation owner when he decided to buy his own ship and take to the sea. It’s rumored that a nagging wife was his motivation to become a pirate, or a mid-life crisis! Black Bart Roberts gave his musicians Sundays off.

Being a pirate was a decent way to make a living. In fact, a lot of sailors signed on to pirate crews because the Navy’s pay checks just didn’t go very far in the 1600’s. Long Ben Avery wasn’t a pirate for very long, but made the richest haul and retired less than a year after he started. And speaking of richest treasures, it is said, Oliver Levasseur had treasure estimated into the billions. When he was captured and brought to be hung, he pulled a necklace from his neck and threw it into the crowd. It contained a cryptogram of 17 lines. He shouted “Find my treasure, the one who may understand it!” Treasure hunters are still trying to ‘understand’ it.

Some pirates were brutal, vicious barbarians, however. Black Beard used to stick lit lengths of rope under the brim of his hat so smoke would circle his head and his prey would believe he was possessed. Francis l’Olonnais cut out a prisoners heart and ate it in order to get the other prisoners to cooperate. His crew deserted soon after. There’s pirate crazy…then there’s pirate ‘l’Olonnais’ crazy!

And of course, I can’t possibly forget to mention all those incredible, bad-ass, ‘tough-as-hardtack’ women who fought as pirates throughout the golden age and beyond. Anne Bonney, Mary Read, Grace O’Malley, Rachel Wall (the only female pirate from New England—and the last pirate hung in Boston Common.), and my personal favorite, Ching Shih. Ching Shih was the most powerful of all pirate queens. After being pulled from a life of prostitution to marry, and her husband’s subsequent death a short three years later, Ching Shih became one of the most feared female pirates of her time. She terrorized the Chinese coast and amassed a huge fleet of more than a fifteen hundred ships and captained more than 70,000 men. She was very fond of beheadings, and deserters who just wouldn’t listen to reason…they saved their heads, but lost their ears!
I wonder what happened to all those earrings?

Lisa A. Olech is an artist/writer living in her dream house nestled among the lakes in New England. She loves getting lost in a steamy book, finding the perfect pair of sexy shoes, and hearing the laughter of her men. Being an estrogen island in a sea of testosterone makes her queen. She believes in ghosts, silver linings, the power of a man in a tuxedo, and happy endings.

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