Sorry about that, I don’t do tables well and lime is used to doing ponderings that don’t need a ‘cut’.

To make up for the long delay, here is Lisa Kleypas new author picture.

It was taken by her husband Greg in their back yard.

It is tres cute yes?  You should be able to click on it to make it larger, if not maybe gwen will come along and do the thing gwen does best and fix it *g*.

read on for the winzors

WOOT! Smooth Talking Strangers is fabulous.  And we will post more info when we it regarding when Lisa will be here to chat about the book.  And of course I am already trying to rope a Raw look at her next historical cuz well I am like that *eg*.

Well, a number of you, anyway. Remember a long time ago when we had the contest for Lisa Kleypas’s books? One for A Wallflower Christmas and another for an Advanced Reader Copy (ARC) of Smooth Talking Stranger? . And remember how I said I’d begin a monthly contest? I also said that  for January, I’d pick it from one specific post, and I did- though that won’t normally be the case. So without further ado, here is a list of all the winners. . The one I think we all want to know most….

1) The winner of an ARC of Smooth Talking Stranger is Kate Niswander! . And as chosen by randomizer.org, the following winners are:2) The three winners of A Wallflower Christmas are Kim, CrystalGB, and Carolyn Jean! . and last but not least, the winner of . 3) Happy New Year!!! is … Sherry Thomas! . Congratulations, winners! Please use the “quack at us” link (which I also provided). And stay tuned for future contests and events! For example, Anya Bast visits with us this Friday, the 6th, for our next “Author Makes a Splash” post.

Lawson’s review of A Wallflower Christmas by Lisa Kleypas
Historical romance released by St. Martin’s 14 Oct 08

A warm return to the lives of the four “Wallflowers” from Secrets of a Summer Night, It Happened One Autumn, The Devil in Winter and Scandal in Spring, and there’s also a new Wallflower introduced in A Wallflower Christmas. Though the four Wallflowers are all part of this story, this story is about Rafe Bowman, Lillian and Daisy’s brother, who has come to England to marry a debutante chosen by his domineering father.

Rafe isn’t very happy about his father trying to control him, but he wants shares in Bowman’s soap operations in Europe. He may even find some form of contentment with the chosen bride and Rafe is happy to be able to stay with his sister Lillian during the proceedings. To get an idea of the prospective bride, Lillian invites her companion, Hannah Appleton, to tea to test the waters where Natalie Parr, debutante is concerned.

The Wallflowers like Hannah and Rafe is instantly attracted to her, though she dresses in drab gowns and isn’t as open as American women. Rafe and Hannah meet again at Stony Cross Park, the Westcliff estate, for the Christmas holidays where it is hoped that Rafe and Natalie will form an attachment. Though he finds Natalie charming, pretty, and amiable, Rafe is instead drawn to Hannah and finds himself opening to her caring and warmth during the holiday season.

Hannah is made into an honorary Wallflower and she does fit well with the other four. She does have a motherly tendency, but as a companion to Natalie, this isn’t very surprising. In one scene, Hannah reads parts of a Christmas Carol to a group of children that is very charming and sweet and shows all her good caring characteristics in the best light, and of course that’s when Rafe really falls hard for her.

Rafe has some of his own issues with caring about people, due mostly to his parents. He’s a rake mainly because the only happiness in his life is making money in speculation and he has a hard relationship with his father. What Rafe sees in Hannah breaks some of the shell around his heart and when he does confess his love it is very passionate and shows a side to Rafe that probably has been buried for a long time.

What was hinted at, but not really explored until this book was the domineering nature and overall controlling aspect of the Bowman patriarch. He’s not happy with himself, his wife, his children and even making money doesn’t seem to bring him any happy feeling. That Rafe, Lillian, and Daisy have been able to be the characters they are with that sort of father and family life shows the depth of each of them to a greater extent.

Unfortunately, things to get a little short. The story is rushed, and it seems more time could have been spent with Rafe and Hannah. There are token appearances from all the Wallflowers and their spouses, which is nice, but again, the whole book is short. It felt as though there was too much being crammed in 220 pages. It’s a cute Christmas story though, and Wallflower fans will enjoy the time with all four in happy endings.

Grade: B-

The Wallflowers are four young ladies in London who banded together in their wild and wickedly wonderful searches for true love. Now happily married, they join together once again to help one of the world’s most notorious rogues realize that happiness might be right under the mistletoe.…

It’s Christmastime in London and Rafe Bowman has arrived from America for his arranged meeting with Natalie Blandford, the very proper and beautiful daughter of Lady and Lord Blandford. His chiseled good looks and imposing physique are sure to impress the lady in waiting and, if it weren’t for his shocking American ways and wild reputation, her hand would already be guaranteed. Before the courtship can begin, Rafe realizes he must learn the rules of London society. But when four former Wallflowers try their hand at matchmaking, no one knows what will happen. And winning a bride turns out to be more complicated than Rafe Bowman anticipated, especially for a man accustomed to getting anything he wants. However, Christmas works in the most unexpected ways, changing a cynic to a romantic and inspiring passion in the most timid of hearts.

A Wallflower Christmas takes a trip to Victorian London, under the mistletoe, and on a journey of the heart. With her trademark charm, sensuality, and unforgettable characters, there’s no one like Lisa Kleypas to make you believe in the magic of Christmas.

Other books in this series:

Wendy isn’t around don’t worry, tis ok *eg*

What Xmas themed books are you looking forward to? Since they seem to come out in Oct

A Wallflower excerpt here

Tuesday May 13, Lisa Kleypas visited The Good, The Bad and The Unread. Fun things happened like some great questions discussing heroes and point of view and thanks for the great, wonderful, spectacular responses. There were some excerpts from Lisa’s upcoming books, Seduce Me at Sunrise (can I have it now Sybil? Pretty please?) and A Wallflower Christmas. And, of course, Lisa herself was here all day! SSQQQUUEEE!

Honestly, it’s nice to see all the comments and readers come out and discuss the work of a great author. There were some good responses and if you click any of the links below you can continue to discuss these things. Really, ’cause it’s fun.

Discussion Questions:

Question 1

Question 2

Question 3

Question 4

Seduce Me at Sunrise excerpt.

A Wallflower Christmas excerpt.

The contest (sorry it is already closed, but it’s nifty either way).

Thanks everyone for making it a very good day! And thanks millions to Lisa who provided the wonderful material to be discussed.

A Wallflower Christmas is the story of Rafe Bowman, an American businessman who comes to London to marry an English bride. All the original wallflowers appear in the novel, and at Sybil’s request I’m sharing a clip of a scene between Evie and Sebastian

[Ed note: happy sigh].

Evie has been separated from the notorious Lord St. Vincent, while he has gone to visit his ailing father. In spite of the comfort of familiar friends, Evie is lonely and longing for her wicked husband . . .

[poor evie... doesn't your heart just break for her...]

And now for some what you have been waiting for – the devil himself – Sebastian Lord St. Vincent

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

A Wallflower Christmas by Lisa Kleypas **Oct 14, 2008**

Back in the comfort of her guest room at Stony Cross Manor, Evie bathed in a small portable tub by the hearth, sighing in relief at the feel of the hot water against her stiff, aching limbs. Sleigh rides, she reflected, were one of those activities that always sounded better in theory than they turned out to be in reality. The seats on the sleigh had been hard and lumpy, and her feet had been cold.

She heard a tap at the door, and the sound of someone entering the room. Since she was shielded from view by a standing fabric screen, Evie leaned back and peek around the screen’s wooden frame.

A housemaid was hefting a dripping metal can with rags tied at the handles. “More hot water, milady?” she asked.

“Y-yes, please.”

Carefully the maid poured the steaming water at the end near Evie’s feet, and Evie sank deeper into the bath. “Oh, thank you.”

“Shall I come back with a warming pan to take the chill from the bed, milady?” The long-handled covered pan was filled with live coals and run between the sheets just before bedtime.

Evie nodded.

The maid left, and Evie stayed in the bath until the heat began to dissipate. Reluctantly she stepped from the tub and dried herself. The thought of going to bed alone—again—filled her with melancholy. She was trying not to pine for St Vincent. But she woke up every morning searching for him, her arm stretched across the empty place beside her.

St. Vincent was the opposite of everything Evie was . . . elegant, dazzlingly articulate, cool and self-possessed . . . and so wicked that it had once been universally agreed he would be an absolutely terrible husband.

No one but Evie knew how tender and devoted he was in private. Of course, his friends such as Westcliff and Mr. Hunt were aware that St. Vincent had reformed his former villainous ways. And he was doing a remarkable job managing the gaming club she had inherited from her father, rebuilding a faltering empire while at the same time making light of the responsibilities he had assumed.

He was still a scoundrel, though, she thought with a private grin.

Standing from the bath, Evie dried herself and donned a velvet robe that buttoned along the front. She heard the door open again. “Back to w-warm the bed?” she asked.

But the voice that answered wasn’t the maid’s.

“As a matter of fact . . . yes.”

Evie stilled at the sound of a deep, silky murmur.

“I passed the maid on the stairs and told her she wouldn’t be needed tonight,” he continued. “‘If there’s one thing I do well,’ I told her, ‘it’s warming my wife’s bed.’”

By this time Evie was fumbling to push the screen aside, nearly pushing it over.

St. Vincent reached her in a few graceful strides, folding her in his arms. “Easy, love. No need for haste. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere.”

They stood together for a long, wordless moment, breathing, holding tight.

Eventually St. Vincent tilted Evie’s head back and stared down at her. He was tawny and golden-haired, his pale blue eyes glittering like gems in the face of a fallen angel. He was a long, lean-framed man, always exquisitely dressed and groomed. But he had not been sleeping well, she saw. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes, and signs of weariness on his face. The touches of human vulnerability, however, only served to make him more handsome, softening what might otherwise have been a gleaming, godlike remoteness.

“Your f-father,” she began, staring at him in concern. “Is he . . .”

St. Vincent cast an exasperated glance heavenward. “He’ll be fine. The doctors can’t find a thing wrong with him, other than indigestion brought on by rich food and wine. When I left, he was leering and pinching the housemaids, and welcoming a score of obsequious relations who want to sponge off him for Christmas.” His hands moved lightly over her velvet-covered back. His voice was very soft. “Have you been a good girl in my absence?”

“Yes, of course,” she said breathlessly.

St. Vincent gave her a disapproving glance and kissed her with a seductive gentleness that sent her pulse racing. “We’ll have to remedy that immediately. I refuse to tolerate proper behavior from my wife.”

She touched his face, smiling as he nipped at her exploring fingertips. “I’ve missed you, Sebastian.”

“Have you, love?” He unfastened the buttons of her robe, the light eyes glittering with heat as her skin was revealed. “What part did you miss the most?”

“Your mind,” she said, and smiled at his expression.

“I was hoping for a far more depraved answer than that.”

“Your mind is depraved,” she told him solemnly.

He gave a husky laugh. “True.”

She gasped as his gentle, experienced hand slipped inside her robe. “What part of m-me did you miss the most?”

“I missed you from head to toe. I missed every freckle. I missed the taste of you . . . the feel of your hair in my hands . . . Evie, my love, you are shamefully overdressed.”

And he picked her up and carried her to bed . . .

© Lisa Kleypas. All rights reserved

Did you know that? ::le gasp:: you didn’t? ‘Tis Lawson’s fault. yep yep yep…. I told her to tell you… Cuz I have been sick and dying for ::counts on fingers:: drugs are fun. She forgot.

And then she got a headache and had to go night night …. Hopefully she will be all better today cuz someone has got to be well roundyere. LOL BUT to make up for our oversight… Hell do we need to? LISA KLEYPAS is going to be here Tuesday, May 13th! LOL. But just in case, here’s an excerpt of BED.

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

We stepped out of the elevator into the H-shaped layout of corridors. I turned to face Hardy, the air between us nearly crackling with challenge. “1800 Main isn’t that much better than Post Oak,” I said. “In fact, in terms of bang for the buck, you’re probably better off staying where you are.”

Hardy lifted a brow, looking amused. “Are you trying out some new kind of sales tactic on me?”

“No. I’m wondering what your ulterior motive is.”

“What’s your best guess?”

I stared straight into those fathomless eyes. “I think you’ve got some leftover hang-up about my sister-in-law.”

Hardy’s smile fled. “You’re way off on that one, honey. We never even slept together. I wish Liberty all the best, but I don’t want her that way.” He stepped closer, not touching me, but I felt like he was just about to . . . well, I didn’t know what. I felt a nervous chill chase down my back. “So take another guess,” he said. “You can’t keep me out of here if you can’t come up with a good reason for it.”

I stepped back from him and took a shaky breath. “You’re a hell-raiser,” I said. “That’s a pretty good reason.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I got all that out of my system in my twenties.”

“You look like you’ve still got some left in you.”

“No, ma’am. I’m completely tame.”

I had an inkling of what he must have been like as a naughty schoolboy, trying to convince his teacher of his innocence. And his sneaky charm was so irresistible that I had to turn away to hide a smile. “Sure you are,” I said, leading him to the apartment.

Stopping at the door, I began to punch numbers into the combination touch pad. I was suffused with an intense awareness of Hardy, so big and solid beside me. There was that scent again, insanely distracting.

I punched the last button, barely aware of what I was doing. Although I had used the combination pad a thousand times while I’d stayed there with Gage and Liberty, I must have hit a wrong number. Instead of clicking open, the lock emitted a series of beeps.

“Sorry,” I said breathlessly, trying to look anywhere but at him. “I pushed the wrong buttons. When that happens, it takes a few seconds to clear and reset. You can change the combination to any number you—”

“Haven,” he said quietly, and waited until I could bring myself to look up at him.

I gripped the door handle as if hanging on for dear life. I had to clear my throat before I could make a sound. “Wh-what?”

“Why do I make you so nervous?” His voice was soft, reaching inside me to a raw, tender place. A mocking smile touched his lips. “You afraid I’m going to make a move on you?”

I couldn’t answer. I can’t stand this, I thought desperately. Heat washed over me, color layering on color. My heart worked in painful beats. All I could do was stare at Hardy without blinking, my back pressing against the door while he bent over me. He moved closer, imparting the pressure of his body until I felt the touch of hard muscle in several places at once. I closed my eyes, mortified by the rapid gusts of my breathing.

“Then let’s get it over with,” Hardy murmured, “so you’ll stop worrying.”

His dark head bent. He eased his mouth over mine. I put my fists between us, my arms clasped over my chest in a tight blockade. I couldn’t make myself push him away, but neither could I let him hold me full-on. His arms went around me, the embrace firm but gentle, as if he were being mindful not to crush me. Our breath mingled, heat surging in restless rhythms.

His mouth shifted, catching at my top lip, then the lower one, opening them. Every time I thought the kiss might stop, it went on longer, deeper, and the back of my throat tingled as if I were being fed something sweet. I felt the silken stroke of his tongue . . . a soft taste . . . another . . . I went weak against him, dissolving in sensation.

His tenderness disarmed me until I almost forgot about the knot of fear in my stomach. I stood there breathing him, feeling him . . . but he was all around me, he could overpower me so easily if he chose. I couldn’t handle feeling that defenseless, no matter how gentle he was. Turning my mouth away from his, I broke the kiss with a whimper.

Hardy’s lips grazed the top of my head, and he released me slowly. He looked down at me, blue heat in his eyes.

“Now show me the apartment,” he whispered.