Video Trailer Review by Sandy M:

To Wed a Wild Lord by Sabrina Jeffries

Historical Romance – November 2011

It’s been a while since I’ve brought a video review to you. I was so excited to begin a new idea here at TGTBTU for you too, and we had a nice response to that first – and only! – review. Sigh. Life never seems to cooperate when you want it to. But when I saw one of our favorites, Sabrina Jeffries, has a new book in her Hellion series due out next week and the video trailer for it is now available, I figured it’s the perfect opportunity to have a little extra fun again.

I’ve read the last two books in this series and have enjoyed them quite a bit, so I’m definitely looking forward to the last two that will tie up the series. Ms. Jeffries has written light-hearted characters who are at the mercy of their wily grandmother intent on seeing them married and starting families – with them all kicking and screaming on the way to the altar. But after some heartache and steamy loving, they realize grandma does know best and happily begin their new lives.

This time it’s Gabriel Sharpe and Virginia Waverly who’re up next. So let’s see what the video gives us – or doesn’t, as the case may be.

Content: 5     Presentation: 2     Total: 7

My Review: First off, I like that the overvoice is with a British accent, of course. Couldn’t be done any other way. My only problem with it, however, is it doesn’t seem to go with the look of the hero. I expected a deeper voice. I just can’t hear the depicted voice sensually rasping and growling during lovemaking or snapping in anger. While I realize Gabriel is a lord, this voice is almost too cultured for me. And I don’t like that the same voice recites the title at the beginning of the credits. Should be a totally different voice.

I think an opportunity was missed in not using a female voice in tandem with the hero in this video. There’s two sides to the story, two competitors in the race, each wanting something different in the outcome. Alternating voices to play off the other throughout would have a much better impact. Though we get to see Virginia a couple of times, it would be nice to hear her too.

The content is all there, we get the idea of the book, a tad of information about the hero and heroine, what to basically expect as we read.  It’s succinct and to the point for the approximate one minute of actual content. The little hints, i.e., the Angel of Death, make me curious. However, it’s all imparted by voice – no wording or graphics – and with just that one voice, I’m sort of left flat at the end.

The music and sound effects of racing hooves, as well as the visual effects, are done well. They represent the period and the backdrop of the book. No nitpicks there at all. There is too much repetition, however. There’s three different elements repeated: the what I will call scene breaks with the curlique borders, the running horses’ hooves, and the newspaper with other paraphernalia atop it. Only the beginning frame and one near the end are different. If it were just the borders that are repeated, that would be fine, but a few more extra scenes to go along with those would have been much better.

So there are things that work for me and a few that don’t. Overall, a good trailer. I think it’s enough to draw me in and make me want to pick up the book.

Sandy M’s review of How to Woo a Reluctant Lady (Hellions of Halstead Hall, Book 3) by Sabrina Jeffries
Historical Romance published by Pocket Star 18 Jan 11

I’ve begun reading a couple of historicals lately that, uh, well, bored me. They didn’t engage me immediately, make me care for the characters right off the bat, make me want to continue reading about their lives. So, needless to say, this book instantly blew fresh life into me with the emotion Ms. Jeffries shares with us concerning Minerva on the very first page. My heart wept for her young broken heart. And then I smiled at the way that brokenness healed. A perfect beginning to a wonderfully written story.

Though all of the Sharpe children are hellions and do their own thing despite what society thinks of them, I believe Minerva is going to be my favorite – and that’s saying something due to the little bit of insight we get here into Gabe and how emotional his story can potentially turn out to be. Minerva has loved Giles Masters for years until he intentionally breaks her heart. He knows his secretive life is not conducive to a successful relationship, so he sacrifices all of what might be between him and Minerva. But enough time has now passed that he’s ready to leave that life behind and concentrate on his barrister career, the potential of becoming one of the King’s Counsel, and perhaps even settling down. That brings the beautiful Minerva to mind, especially after his employer shows Giles Minerva’s latest book in which the villian eerily resembles Giles. Also included in her latest work is an advertisement for a husband!

Heading straight to Minerva with a two-fold goal in mind – keep all the other prospective husbands away from her and then end up being married to her himself – Giles instead ends up on the wrong side of the woman and her schemes. Playing along with her – and her grandmother, who has given all her grandchildren an ultimatum concerning marrying or being cut off – Giles is serious in his courting of Minerva and will marry her despite any and all objections. Minerva only wants to be left alone to continue her writing. Having had her heart broken once, she’s not ready for that to happen again, so she happily goes through the motions of pretending to be engaged to Giles. But the man creeps under her skin once again. The more she finds out about him and his legitimate occupation, she fears her heart won’t stand against another break, because that’s exactly what Giles will do to her.

This couple is so charming and engaging together. They each have mysteries in their lives and each comes unraveled as circumstances either work for them or against them. I really enjoy the fact they do work and stay together, even when the chips are down or there is conflict between them. They talk to one another to work those issues through. And the emotion throughout the book is wonderful. You feel their individual fears, hurts, and happiness as well as when they’re together. Minerva is able to keep her independence because Giles doesn’t want her to change, and it’s Giles who changes when he realizes what he has to do to keep his wife.

Thank goodness for Sabrina Jeffries and Giles and Minerva! I’m actually looking forward again to the next historical book I pick up.

Grade: A

Summary:

Lady Minerva Sharpe has the perfect plan to thwart her grandmother’s demand that she marry by year’s end:  become engaged to a rogue!  Surely Gran would rather release her inheritance than see her wed a scoundrel.

And who better to play the part of Minerva’s would-be husband than wild barrister Giles Masters, the very inspiration for the handsome spy in the popular gothic novels she writes?  The memory of his passionate kiss on her nineteenth birthday has lingered with Minerva, though she has no intention of falling for such a rakehell, much less marrying him! Little does she know, Giles really is a covert government operative.  When the two team up to investigate the mystery behind her parents’ deaths, their fake betrothal leads to red-hot desire. Then Minerva discovers Giles’s secret double life, and he must use all the cunning tricks of his trade to find his way back to her heart.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

Sandy M’s review of A Hellion in Her Bed (Hellions of Halstead Hall, Book 2) by Sabrina Jeffries
Historical Romance published by Pocket Star 1 Sep 10

I have a feeling a few of you — hell, maybe scores of you — are going to call me crazy after reading this review. I even had a thought or two like that roll around in my head as I read. I mean, we’re talking Sabrina Jeffries here. But the first half of this book is just so-so for me.

And I’m not totally sure why. I like the idea of a lady brewster in Annabel Lake’s day. She’s a smart cookie who does what she has to to get around in a man’s world to help her family out, help them survive. She loves working in the family brewery. She has secrets, of course, and that’s where she gets in trouble. Jarret Sharpe has spent the last nineteen years earning a living at gambling due to the fact his grandmother forced him out of their family brewery when he was much younger, made him go to school instead, which he hated immensely. Also losing his parents has shaped him into the wild and carefree wastrel he is today.

Annabel goes to Hester Plumtree to talk business about entering into a partnership that will be beneficial to both their breweries, but she runs into Jarret instead. He’s currently and reluctantly in charge of Plumtree Brewery while his grandmother recovers from her illness. Jarret, as well as his other siblings, are chafing at the ultimatum grandma has dished out to them — get married by the end of the year or you’re disinherited. He’s made a deal with her to run the brewery for that year and then he’s scot-free to back to his responsibility-free existence.

Jarret and Annabel make a wager over a game of cards — she wins Jarret will go along with her plan to save Lake Ale, he wins she spends a night in his bed. They are evenly matched at whist and it’s a draw up until the last hand when Jarret is distracted and eventually loses to Annabel. Now, of course, there’s other things that go on during this short synopsis, but up to this point the story is just…..slow for me. The idea of the breweries didn’t seem to flourish enough and the characters didn’t leap off the page as they usually do in a Sabrina Jeffries book, which surprises me because Jarret and Annabel banter and drive each other nuts.

Things pick up a bit when the scenery turns to Lake Ale. Jarret is there to look the place and its books over to make sure it has the wherewithal to sustain the plan Annabel has created for them. Slowly but surely Annabel’s fabrications about the state of her family, even herself, come undone. Jarret begins to put pieces together until the truth does come out.

And this is where the book comes alive for me. Jarret’s anger with Annabel scorches a fire between them fraught with guilt, betrayal, self-doubt, and self-realization, and that all leads to one intense and sexy as all get-out love scene. It’s raw and emotional. Annabel comes clean about her lies. Except one. The big one. And when it is revealed later, it’s unexpected reactions and emotions for both Annabel and the reader. Her revelations bring on an eventual look at the past in a different light and a relationship no one ever imagined.

If you haven’t read the first book in this series, The Truth about Lord Stoneville, but I truly don’t think you need to in order to read this one. Ms. Jeffries does a great job of giving us an overview of the family dynamics and what the series is based on, as well as a look into the mysterious deaths of the siblings’ parents. I’m definitely looking forward to Mnerva’s book, which is out next year. We’re given just enough to whet our curiosity as to what will happen.

I’m glad my audacity to give Sabrina Jeffries a C for this book has been nipped in the old proverbial bud. Jarret and Annabel make a stupendous comeback amid anger and terrific bed play, so my grade makes a comeback of its own.

Grade: B

Summary:

Mired in scandal after his parents’ mysterious deaths, notorious gambler Lord Jarret Sharpe agrees to tamely run the family’s brewery for a year if his Machiavellian grandmother rescinds her ultimatum that he marry. But the gambler in him can’t resist when beguiling Annabel Lake proposes a wager. If she wins their card game, he must help save her family’s foundering brewery. But if he wins, she must spend a night in his bed. The outcome sets off a chain of events that threatens to destroy all his plans…and unveils the secret Annabel has held for so long. When Jarret discovers the darker reason behind her wager, he forces her into another one—and this time he intends to win not just her body, but her heart.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

We had a grand time with Sabrina Jeffries during her What a Ride! guest blog, and you all came up with some terrific ideas for romantic amusement park rides that hopefully sparked her imagination and you just might see your concept in one of her novels one day. Well, one can hope, that is!

And now our winner of a copy of Sabrina’s Never Seduce a Scoundrel is……

***Margay (28)!!!

Congratulations! Please send your snail mail address to lighthousetagger (at) gmail (dot) com and we’ll get in touch with Sabrina for you!

Are y’all ready?? Only about a week before Sabrina Jeffries’ newest book is on the shelves. The Truth About Lord Stoneville is the first in her latest series, The Hellions of Halstead.

And today you’re getting an excerpt just to get you all riled up and make the next week a little more anticipatory than usual. Because, hey, it’s Sabrina Jeffries!

Here’s a quickie so you don’t hyperventilate all at once…

The oldest of the scandalous Sharpes—five hell-raising siblings tainted still by the gossip surrounding the “accidental” deaths of their parents two decades ago-—Oliver Sharpe, the Marquess of Stoneville, like his brothers and sisters, has lived life on his own terms. In his case, as an unrepentant rakehell. Or so life had played out until Grandmother Hetty got a bee in her bonnet. Now the five Sharpe siblings face a daunting ultimatum: Marry by year’s end—or kiss their inheritance good-bye.

Oliver vows to fulfill the bargain in true Sharpe style—by bringing home a fake fiancé from a brothel! But his scheme backfires when he foils a robbery and rescues an American beauty instead. Maria Butterfield came to London to find her missing fiancé, but her prior engagement won’t stop Oliver from getting what he wants: Maria in his bed. His rebellious charade may just call Hetty’s bluff, but not before it become all too real—stirring up a love that tempts him to be a hellion no more.

Now get ready for the really good stuff…

Oliver stood alone in King’s Courtyard, so called because it had been Henry VIII’s favorite when he’d owned the semi-fortified manor. It had been Oliver’s favorite, too, when he was growing up. Whenever his parents had argued, he’d escaped here, to the expanse of paving tiles between the buildings of roughly hewn ragstone.

Staring up at the stars, he remembered how he used to stand here, wishing he could fly up and away to be consumed in a fiery blaze of glory. Leave everything earthly behind—the estate, his role as heir to a lofty title … the madness that had been his parents’ marriage.

He snorted. What an idiot he’d been. People couldn’t fly, and they sure as the devil couldn’t escape their mistakes by burning them up in stars.

Such a pity. Because right now his biggest mistake was in inviting Gran to come here. He hadn’t counted on her spending her money on the place, trying to make them even more reliant on her than they already were. Trying to lull them into acquiescence with her riches.

He gulped some wine from the golden goblet in his hand. Well, it wouldn’t work. He’d be damned if he let her take over at Halstead Hall. He might hate the place, but it was still his. And he would run it the way he saw fit.

“Your sister told me I would find you here,” came a soft voice behind him.

As he recognized it, he stiffened, then sipped some wine. “I thought you’d be headed to London by now.”

“Why?” Maria asked.

A harsh breath escaped him. “Because if I know Gran, and I do, that little conversation in the parlor was so she could offer to buy you off.”

Maria walked up next to him. He sensed rather than saw her. She had an unusual scent—roses and something he couldn’t place. He’d have to ask her what it was one day.

Right. She’d be long gone before that conversation ever occurred.

“You expected me to take her money?” Maria asked.

He erected the armor of cynicism that always stood him in good stead. “Why shouldn’t you? I would if I were you.”

“And what good would that do me? You said if I didn’t stay tonight you’d have me and my cousin hauled off to the gaol.”

“I’m sure you guessed that Gran has the influence to prevent that.”

“Maybe I’m afraid to risk it.”

He snorted. “Yes, because you’re so timid and all.”

A soft chuckle sounded beside him. “No one has ever accused me of that.”

Slanting a glance at her, he tried to gauge her mood. “You should throw in your lot with Gran. With her money you could hunt for your fiancé, and you’d be well free of this place.” And of me.

“Fortunately for you, I’m not nearly that mercenary. I promised I’d stay tonight, and I will.”

The swift surge of relief that her words provoked unsettled him. Why did he care? She was a means to an end, nothing more. He could find someone else if need be.

And yet …

In the starlight, her face held an angelic glow, and her hair, plaited to lie in a circle atop her head, bore a vaguely halo-ish look.

He rolled his eyes. Halos and angels and stars—deuce take it, what had come over him, to be spinning such fancies? “I wouldn’t blame you if you left, you know. You care only about finding Nathan Hyatt, so I could hardly be surprised if you took your chance to flee when Gran offered it.”

“You have a very low opinion of people. But some of us do keep our promises. Some of us have integrity.”

Integrity. He’d long ago forgotten what that was. “Good for you, Miss Butterfield.” He raised his goblet in a toast. “That was probably a first for Gran—finding someone she couldn’t buy off.”

“Oh? Whom has she bought off before?”

He flashed on a dark night when he’d sat shivering in horror while Gran hurried about, silencing servants, bribing whomever might gainsay her. “No one. Forget I said it.”

“You do that a great deal, don’t you?”

He swallowed the rest of his wine. “What?”

“Close up into yourself whenever someone tries to peer into your soul. Make a joke of it.”

“If you came out here to lecture me,” he snapped, “don’t bother. Gran has perfected that talent. You can’t possibly compete.”

“I only want to understand.”

“I want to be consumed by a star, but we don’t all get what we want.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Turning for the nearest door into the house, he started to stalk off, but she caught his arm.

“Why are you so angry at your grandmother?” Maria asked.

“I told you—she’s trying to ruin the lives of me and my siblings.”

“By requiring you to marry so you can have children? I thought all lords and ladies were expected to do that. And the five of you are certainly old enough.” Her tone turned teasing. “Some of you are beyond being old enough.”

“Watch it, minx,” he clipped out. “I’m not in the mood for having my nose tweaked tonight.”

“Because of your grandmother, you mean. It’s not just her demand that has you angry, is it? It goes back longer than that.”

He glared at her. “Why do you care? Has she got you fighting her battles for her now?”

“Hardly. She just informed me that I was, and I quote, ‘exactly the sort of woman who would not meet my requirements of a wife.’”

A smile touched his lips at her accurate mimicking of Gran at her most haughty. “I told you she would think that.”

“Yes,” she said dryly. “You both excel at insulting people.”

“One of my many talents.”

“There you go again. Making a joke to avoid talking about what makes you uncomfortable.”

“And what is that?”

“What did your grandmother do, besides giving you an ultimatum about marriage, that has you at daggers drawn?”

Blast it all, would she not leave off? “How do you know she did anything? Perhaps I’m just contrary.”

“You are. But that’s not what has you so angry at her.”

“If you plan to spend the next two weeks asking ridiculous questions that have no answers, then I will pay you to return to London.”

She smiled. “No, you won’t. You need me.”

“True. But since I’m paying for the service you’re providing, I get some say in how it’s rendered. Bedeviling me with questions isn’t part of our bargain.”

“You haven’t paid me anything yet,” she said lightly, “so I should think there’s some leeway in the terms. Especially since I’ve been working hard all evening furthering your cause. I just finished telling your grandmother that I have ‘feelings’ for you, and that I know you have ‘feelings’ for me.”

“You didn’t choke on that lie?” he quipped.

“I do have feelings for you—probably not the sort she meant, though apparently she believed me. But she was suspicious. She’s more astute than you give her credit for. First, she accused us of acting a farce, and then, when I denied that, she accused me of thinking to marry you so I could gain a fortune from her down the line.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I told her she could keep her precious fortune..”

“Did you, indeed?” He searched her face. “I would have given my right arm to see that.” Maria was proving to be an endless source of amazement. No one ever stood up to Gran. Except, apparently, for this American chit, with her naïve beliefs in justice and right and morality.

It amazed him that she’d done it, considering the way he’d treated her. No one, not even his siblings, had ever defended him with so little reason. It stirred something that had long lain dead inside him.

His conscience? No, surely not. That wasn’t dead; it was nonexistent.

“I admit I now understand why you’re determined to thwart her,” she went on. “She does have a hateful side.”

He stared down into the goblet. “I suppose you’d see it that way. She sees it as protective.”

“Yet you’re angry at her.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, will you stop harping on that? I’m not angry at Gran.” He stepped closer to her. “And if you intend to stand out here all night and plague me with questions about it, I’ll give you something better to do with your mouth.”

She gazed up at him, perplexed. “I don’t under—”

He cut her off with a kiss. Let her knee him in the groin. Let her slap him. Let her do whatever the hell she wanted. Anything was better than having her ask him about things he didn’t want to discuss. Ever.

But she didn’t kick him. She stayed very, very still, but she didn’t fight him.

He drew back to eye her suspiciously. “Well? Aren’t you going to punch me in the kidney? Pull a knife on me? Something?”

A smile played over her lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I kick your shin and march off in a huff, and you don’t have to answer me. But I’m wise to your tricks now, Oliver. I’m not going to stop asking just because—”

He kissed her again. Except that this time he dropped the goblet so he could drag her close and take advantage of her gasp to plunge his tongue into her mouth. Her sweet, silky mouth. So warm and innocent.

So dangerous.

Swiftly he retreated.

She did not. “What was that … you just did?” she asked in a breathless voice.

Such clear evidence of her arousal made something resonate deep in his chest. And that wasn’t good. “It’s another way of kissing.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip, unable to stop himself. “A very intimate way.”

Maria heard his explanation in a daze. Another way of kissing? There was more than one? Was it supposed to make her pulse jump and her heart thunder? And why had Nathan never done it to her?

Great heavens, Nathan. She had let Oliver kiss her, without a thought for her fiancé!

Still, she wanted to know why kissing was different with Oliver. Was it her? Or was it just that Oliver had experience that the respectable Nathan could never have?

“Do it again,” she blurted out.

Oliver’s eyes, black as the mouth of hell, glittered in the moonlight. “Why?”

“Don’t you want to?” Her heart sank. It was her. She’d been so inept that even a debauched scoundrel like Oliver lacked any urge to kiss her again.

“God preserve me, of course I want to,” he growled. “But I don’t fancy having your knee shoved in my groin again.”

“I won’t hurt you, I just … want to see what it’s like. That’s all.”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “Didn’t your Nathan ever kiss you?”

“Not like that.”

“Never?”

She tipped up her chin. “Not all men are as shamelessly wicked as you.”

The faintest of smiles touched his lips. “True.” Then before she could say anything else, he kissed her again, taking advantage of her slightly parted lips to thrust his tongue inside her mouth.

And it was glorious, a hundred times more thrilling than any kiss Nathan had ever given her. Her skin felt too tight to contain her body, and her body felt too tight to contain her stampeding heart. Every sense was heightened. The taste of tart-sweet wine on his breath intoxicated her, and the smell of his spicy cologne made her dizzy.

When he delved his tongue deep, again and again, all she could do was grab his coat and hold on, sure that she would disintegrate into a million pieces if she didn’t. Tentatively she put her tongue into his mouth, curious as to how that would feel. Groaning low in his throat, he flattened her body against his hard one with the iron band of his arm. Then his mouth became more ravenous, bolder and hungrier, all-consuming.

She reminded herself that this was only a game to him, one of a thousand kisses he’d given a thousand women. There was a reason, after all, that his sister had named a villain after him. It hadn’t all been just in jest.

Still, she kept hearing his grandmother say, He has vulnerabilities that you cannot even begin to imagine.

He tore his mouth free of hers to whisper, “Your fiancé is clearly mad, to run off and leave you to the mercies of other men.” He trailed open-mouthed kisses along her jaw to her neck. “He’s not worthy of you.”

“But you are?” she breathed as Oliver tongued the hollow of her throat.

“God, no. The difference is, I don’t care.”

“You don’t care about … much, do you?”

“I care about this.” His hand slid up to cover her breast, and to her shock, he kneaded it, making the nipple ache. “I care about making love to an angel in the starlight.”

As his words trickled into her haze of desire, she froze. Making love? Oh, Mercy, what was she doing? He had his hand on her breast, for pity’s sake!

She shoved him away. “You mean, making love to a woman in the starlight, don’t you? Any woman will do. I just happen to be handy.”

For a moment, the stark anger in his eyes gave her hope that he would protest her claim. Then he shuddered, and the anger gave way to a cynical arch of his brow. “You do know me well, I see.”

“Yes,” she choked out. “I have your sister’s books to thank for that. I’m very familiar with Lord Rockton’s habits.” She fought to recapture her breath, to quell the violent beating of her heart. He mustn’t guess how deeply he’d dragged her into fancying that he cared. He would use it against her. She was sure of it.

“Then you know Rockton never stops with kissing,” he drawled and reached for her again, but she shied away, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

She’d poked a stick at a sleeping beast, and now she’d better run before he fully awakened. “That’s enough practice for one night, sir,” she said.

He went still. “Practice?”

“In kissing, of course. Since I clearly have much to learn about it before I marry Nathan, I figured no one could show me the proper way to do it as well as you. Especially after your sister touted Lord Rockton’s talent with women.”

The muscle that ticked in his jaw told her she had struck a nerve. “And did I perform as advertised?”

“No one in life can ever match fiction. Surely even you know that.”

“Yes,” he said coldly. “I believe I do.”

“But it was still a valuable lesson, and for that I thank you.” She actually meant that. He’d taught her not to take him too seriously. Not if she wanted to leave this place with her virtue intact.

He’d made it clear that he had no desire to marry. And despite her uncertainty about Nathan, she wasn’t ready to give up on her betrothed either. So she must tread very, very lightly around his lordship from now on.

“I think we should rejoin the others, don’t you?” she said.

“You go on,” he ground out. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

Grateful for the reprieve, she fled.

Only after she’d reached the dining room did she remember that he’d never answered her question about his anger at his grandmother.

Sabrina Jeffries is joining us today, a special blog about romance novels, handsome heroes, and theme parks.

Huh? Yep, you heard right. Who woulda thunk it?

Only a talented and imaginative author like Sabrina, of course.  No doubt after you read her blog you’ll agree and join in on all the fun that’s to be had.

Wonder if Sabrina will take any of your ideas and run with them, some ending up in one of her books? Now, how much fun would that be to read?

When I first signed with Simon and Schuster, my contract included a clause about “theme park rights.” I kid you not. I suppose publishers have to cover that, since there is a Dr. Seuss area at the Universal Studios theme parks and another being developed for Harry Potter. But since I neither rhyme my stories nor write for children, worrying about the dispensation of my theme park rights was the least of my concerns.

Then the other day as I was joking about that clause with a friend, it dawned on me that there ought to be a Romanceland theme park. I mean, why not? Think of the possibilities. You could have a whole Jane Austen section (whirling teacups would be an obvious necessity), with Colin Firth water rides that plunge you beneath a lake where you would see animatronic Darcys in all their wet glory. I would personally love a sweeping flight over London at night in the Regency. Picture something like the Haunted House at Disney but with Regency costumes and flashes of couples doing the dirty deed.

Continuing on the historical theme, you could plunk Pirates of the Caribbean down in its entirety—it would fit right in. Add areas for Vikings, sheiks, and Native Americans, and you’d hit the historical trifecta.

And the paranormal ride choices are endless—3D images of shape shifters, a roller coaster that would take you to hell and back with your demon hero guide, vampiric balls at night … can’t you just see it?

We could give Harlequin its own section, too—imagine a rodeo where all the riders are millionaires! Or the Secret Baby ride where you guess the father and win prizes. A secret passage could connect it to the historical sheik area, so we could keep all those sheiks under one tent.

And instead of souvenir shops, we’d have bookstores everywhere. Ah, that would be fab!

But I digress. Given that Simon and Schuster allowed me to keep the theme park rights, I imagine they’re not anticipating a development anytime soon. Still, an author can dream, can’t I?

What ride would you want to see at Romanceland? The best suggestion will win a copy of my brand new release, The Truth about Lord Stoneville.

You’re in for a treat today! Welcome to Duck Chat!

Ohmyohmyohmy!  Squeeeeeeeeeeeee!  Kathryn Smith is here!!!!!

As most of you know, Kathryn’s vampire series, Brotherhood of the Blood, is a favorite of fans everywhere, but the really big news lately is that she’s writing straight historicals once again, and Kathryn will be talking about that and so much more today.

So no more lollygagging! Let’s chat!

DUCK CHAT: Kathryn, of course, the big news, the happy news for your fans is that you’ve returned to writing historical romance. Was it just time? Did something specific happen to prompt you to write that next one?

KATHRYN SMITH: The simplest answer is that yes, it was just time. I’d been writing a lot of paranormal, and even though most of it was historical, it wore on me. I loved my vamps, but they couldn’t go out in the sun! Actually, the sad truth is that historical paranormal just does not sell like contemporary paranormal and while I had some success, the move didn’t really help my career. It was upsetting to say the least, but historical was always my first love and it took me back with welcome arms.

DC: If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

KS: Where do you get your ideas from? Only because I never know how to answer it. It’s not like I have a magic hat or anything! My ideas can come from anywhere.

DC: And fans will not get just one new historical from you, but an entire series. Lots of happy dancin’ is going on out there! Tell us about the new series, please.

KS: Thank you! I’ve dubbed the new series a ‘Victorian Soap Opera.’ I’m introducing lots of recurring characters that will appear in some or all of the books, and there will be secrets and intrigue afoot. There’s even a gathering place – a hub – where all the characters go to be social, much like Ruby’s on General Hospital. I even have a ‘love to hate’ character that I hope readers will embrace. It’s going to be difficult keeping track of everyone, but I think I’m up for the task.  The series begins with a trilogy, and after that I’m treating it as a world rather than a series. That way I don’t feel locked in to write books about specific characters. Anyone could have a book! And just like on soaps, a new character could arrive on the scene at any time.

DC: I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

KS: Yes! I’m mostly a plotter, but I like to leave room for my characters to express themselves. That sounds slightly psychotic I’m sure, but once you’re in their heads, writing from their POV, you start to understand what they’re all about. That’s when they surprise you.

DC: Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing? Who usually wins?

KS: No. I trust them to do the right thing. LOL. I let them do what they will and if it doesn’t work, I do it my way. There’s no arguing because either way I win.

DC: The first book of your new series is When Seducing a Duke and it will be released later this month. Would you tell our readers about Grey and Rose and how their story came about?

KS: Grey and Rose are a little bit Phantom of the Opera and a little bit Luke and Laura. He’s a little older, jaded and a little tortured. He’s had an awful past that haunts him still, and he doesn’t want the taint of that to touch her, but it’s going to just by association. He promised her father he’d look after her and to him that means NOT giving in to his feelings for her. Rose on the other hand is determined and slightly naïve. Part of her is convinced that if she can make Grey confront the attraction between them everything will magically be wonderful.

I have no idea now where the idea for them came from! I’ve always loved the kind of hero who has been ‘rode hard and put away wet.’ Grey is definitely one those. He feels awful for his past, but he also knows he’d still be the same if not for the event that changed his life. He didn’t change willingly, and he’s not sure what kind of man he is anymore. I think Rose is a little bit like me – she thinks if she wants something bad enough and works at it hard enough, she’ll get it. That doesn’t always work out for the best! It’s a ‘be careful what you wish for’ situation.

DC: What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

KS: Email. Phone calls. iTunes. YouTube. Twitter. Cats. Shiny things.

DC: How’s work coming on the second book in your Victorian series? May we have a little sneak peek?

KS: Currently I’m working on revisions for When Marrying a Scoundrel, the second book in the series. It’s about Jack Friday and Sadie Moon. He’s a self-made man with a secret and she’s a tea leaf reader – with a secret. The secret is that they married when they were very young, but then Fate tore them apart. Now, the two of them are reunited and neither one of them is very happy about it.

DC: What has been your favorite book cover from all of your releases and why?

KS: Wow, what a difficult question. The lovely man who runs the Avon Art Dept is one of my favorite people in the entire world. He’s been so very generous with me over the last few years. I’ve always loved the cover for Into Temptation painted by Diane Sivavec. More recently I think the cover for Dark Side of Dawn, which comes out in December – but that might just be because of the gorgeous nekked man on the cover!  Of the Brotherhood covers I think Let the Night Begin is my favorite. I love the golden color of it and the fact that she’s going for his neck.

DC: How about your least favorite cover? Why?

KS: Wow. I’ve never had a cover I hated. I’ve been very lucky. Although if I had to choose it would be In Your Arms Again. I’m not a fan of the pose where the hero is behind the heroine and she has her skirt hauled up. Not sure why. And then, if you don’t look closely it looks like the hero isn’t wearing pants – just a belt and boots. His trousers are almost the same color he is. Still, I’ve seen much worse.

DC: How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

KS: Oh yeah! I think my heroines have gotten more realistic. They’re not entirely good little girls. Nothing interesting in that. My heroes have changed as well. I used to think I had to write Alpha guys, but I’m not good at that. I like guys who can be both tough and sweet. Real people have uncharitable thoughts, absurd thoughts, insecurities and vanities. That’s what I’m interested in writing now.

DC: Your Nightmare Chronicles is also a fairly new urban fantasy series, one book out last year and the second due out in November. Would you tell us about the series over all and and then we’ll talk about each book.

KS: Dawn Riley is the half-mortal daughter of Morpheus, God of Dreams. That’s the crux of it. Dawn is able to walk between both worlds, something no one else can do. It makes people fear her. The veil between the dream realm and our world is thinning, strange things are happening. And no one is sure if Dawn is the solution to the problem, or the cause of it.

DC: First in the series was Before I Wake, which was out last year, and next month Dark Side of Dawn is being released. Would you give a look inside each book, please?

KS: In Before I Wake, Dawn has repressed who she is. She’s working in a sleep center and crushing on one of her ‘clients,’ Noah Drake. One night Noah is attacked in his dreams and somehow Dawn gets pulled into that very dream. She becomes the target of a Night Terror and the only way to stop it is to accept what she is and use her abilities. This means reconciling with Morpheus and her mother. It also means telling Noah the truth about who and what she is.

In Dark Side of Dawn, Dawn is working on honing her abilities and dating Noah. But then someone close to Noah is attacked and Dawn has to use both her professional skills as a psychologist, and her skills as a Nightmare to help. But this puts her in the path of another monster – an earthbound one this time. She’s also in trouble with the Nightmare Council for something she did in book 1. Dawn just can’t catch a break, and if she doesn’t do something fast, she might not live to stand trial in the Dreaming!

DC: Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

KS: Hmm. Young Adult. Historical. Paranormal. Urban Fantasy. I think I’ve written everything I’ve wanted! Actually, I would love to write mysteries, but I don’t think I’d be very good at it. I really want to do more Young Adult. I had two historical YAs out in 2001-2002, and I’ve wanted to do more ever since. So, while there’s not a genre I would like to try, there certainly is one I’d like to do more in.

DC: What advice would you give to your younger self?

KS: Don’t date him. LOL. Actually, I think everything we’ve done has led to where we are, so I don’t think I’d encourage myself to do anything differently. I might, however, tell myself to have more confidence and not take quite so much attitude from other people.

DC: If you were a book, what would your blurb be?

KS: She’s a big girl with a big mouth and an even bigger heart, but does she have what it takes to make the big time?

LOL. That’s so corny, but it’s the best I can do without sounding totally bollocks.

DC: What would be your “voice’s” tagline?

KS: Realistic characters. Fantastic passion. I’d actually have a ‘wink’ after that too. I have a hard time talking myself up.

DC: Your vampire series, The Brotherhood of the Blood, is a favorite with readers. There’s five books in the series so far, with Night After Night being released earlier this year. First would tell those one or two people who aren’t familiar with the series what it’s about?

KS: The Brotherhood was originally six mercenaries who found what they thought was the Holy Grail, but it was actually the Blood Grail, made from the silver paid to Judas, infused with the essence of Lilith. When they drank from it they were turned vampire. 6 centuries later the group who originally had the Blood Grail wants it back – and they want the Brotherhood as well.

DC: Is the series evolving as your originally envisioned it?

KS: Yes. It played out exactly as I’d planned book-wise. I had an arc and I followed it. Success wise, I have to be honest and say that I was much higher hopes for it. Maybe someday paranormal historical will become what I’d hoped it would be and I can give fans of the series some new books.

DC: Please tell everyone about Night After Night.

KS: Night After Night was Temple’s story. He was the leader of the Brotherhood of the Blood once upon a time. In Be Mine Tonight, you discover he’s gone missing, and throughout the series the mystery of what happened to Temple runs through every story. This is also the book that reunites the Brotherhood. It is a romance, however. Temple meets Vivian, who is far more than she seems – more than she even knows. And she’s part of the group that would see the Brotherhood destroyed. That’s conflict, huh?

DC: Are there more books planned in the series? What can we expect next?

KS: As of right now, there are no more books planned for that series. That story line ended with Night After Night. If I do anything in the future, it will be with a new group of vampires or other supernatural creatures.

DC: If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

KS: I’d be a rock star. Actually, I once wanted to be a makeup artist. I love makeup.

DC: Who’s your favorite author(s)?

KS: I have so many. I love Julia Quinn, Laura Lee Guhrke, Connie Brockway. Sherry Thomas and Meredith Duran are two new authors that I do not feel worthy of when I read them! Lorraine Heath is another favorite, along with Jenna Petersen, Sophie Jordan, Sabrina Jeffries, Loretta Chase, and Liz Carlyle.

DC: How about a favorite book or two?

KS: Stranger in My Arms by Lisa Kleypas. Love that book. Lord of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase. Secret Desires of a Gentleman by Laura Lee Guhrke is a current fave, as well as When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn. Those are the first that come to mind.

DC: What else is on the horizon for Kathryn Smith?

KS: More Victorian soap opera books. I’m currently outlining the third, which I’ve tentatively titled When Tempting a Rogue, but that will probably change to better suit the story. I’m hoping to perhaps continue on with the Nightmare Chronicles, and I do have a little something else I’m working on, but I’m keeping mum until I see what happens. That makes me a tease, doesn’t it? Sorry!

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate?     – milk
- smooth or chunky peanut butter?     – chunky
- heels or flats?      – heels
- coffee or tea?      – both
- summer or winter?      – Actually, autumn
- mountains or beach?      – beach
- mustard or mayonnaise?     – mayo
- flowers or candy?      – flowers
- pockets or purse?      – Purse – anyone who knows me is laughing at this, because they know I collect purses.
- Pepsi or Coke?     – Coke
- ebook or print?     – Print – but I want to try an e-reader.

And because folks still like seeing the answers:

1. What is your favorite word?    – friend
2. What is your least favorite word?     – nourishing
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?     – nature
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?      – willful ignorance
5. What sound or noise do you love?      – the sound of Steve’s voice
6. What sound or noise do you hate?      – a cat coughing up hair balls.
7. What is your favorite curse word?     – I don’t curse! Right. I say fuck a lot, but I’d like to use the word twat more. I can’t believe I just admitted to that.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?     – makeup artistry. Maybe teaching.
9. What profession would you not like to do?      – anything where I’d have to put my hand in another person.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?     – “I’ve read all your books.”

DC: Kathryn, it was such a pleasure to have you here today! Thank you so much!

Welcome back to Duck Chat!

Today we have a super special treat for you. Sabrina Jeffries is here! How cool is that!

Sabrina, of course, needs no introduction to historical romance readers. Her books and characters are loved far and wide. But if you happen to be one of those who hasn’t read any of her books, you need to take a nice leisurely stroll through her website. Not only will you find terrific reads, but there’s a lot of fun stuff there that can keep you occupied for a long while. But the short story is Sabrina is a New York Times and USA Today bestseller author who writes about 19-Century English life; she has a doctorate in English lit from Tulane and a specialty in Early Modern British literature.

She lives in Cary, N.C. with her husband and son, loves doing dog jigsaw puzzles, and logs hundreds of miles on her treadmill while answering email. Wish I could be that good. For those of you in the Garner, N.C., area, be sure to head to the grand opening of the new Wal-Mart there because Sabrina will be signing books in the electronics department on Friday, August 29 from 5-7 p.m.  How lucky are you people!

A meaningful comment or question for Sabrina will put you in the running for a copy of Never Seduce a Scoundrel. Now let’s chat!

DUCK CHAT: In perusing your site, I came across a number of things that made me curious, so I’m going to start with one of those, Sabrina. Though you were born in New Orleans, you were raised in Thailand. How long you were there? Where did you live? Did you go to school there? How is that different from the U.S.? What was the hardest thing to get used to back in the States when you returned? What about the food? (I love Thai food!) LOL, I know it’s a lot of questions, whatever you’d like to tell us is fine!

SABRINA JEFFRIES: I was there 10 years. We lived in Bangkok for most of it, with two years in a little town called Rayong. I was home-schooled in Rayong, but the rest of the time, I went to a private school called International School Bangkok (ISB). School wasn’t much different there, since the curriculum was pretty much the same as any school in the U.S. or slightly better. For example, I took pre-Calculus as a junior in high school. It was a course for seniors in my school in the U.S. (where I spent my senior year).

In fact, THAT was the hardest thing to get used to in the States—the school system. At ISB, clubs and academics were the center of the school’s social life. Since we couldn’t really play much sports (who were we going to play baseball against in Thailand?), sports were very low in importance. The whole jock/cheerleader popularity thing didn’t exist. Our theater department put on four plays a year (my school in the States did one). We had several different choirs. There was no racism, since we were a mix of races and cultures. My two best friends in 8th grade were Indian and Chinese. In a school where African-Americans were no more prominent than any other race, our class president one year was African-American. It was a shock for me to land in a Southern school where sports reigned supreme and racism was alive and well. I didn’t fit in, especially as a senior who hadn’t come up through the schools with all the kids there. I was pretty miserable.

I do love Thai food, though!

DC: If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

SJ: I guess that’s “Where do you get your ideas?” Because I get them everywhere and from everything, and that’s kind of hard to explain.

DC: Since your School for Heiresses boasts your latest releases, let’s talk about that first. There’s now six books in the series. How did the series first come about? Has it evolved like you originally envisioned?

SJ: My publisher said something about wanting a character who went across all the books, and for some reason, I thought of Charlie’s Angels. Weird, I know, but I did love that TV show, and I think I’d just seen one of the movies. Anyway, I loved the camaraderie of the women in the show, and I especially loved the anonymous Charlie. I wanted so badly to find out who he was. So that was in the back of my head when I came up with the series—I wanted an anonymous benefactor who could end up in a romance with the school’s headmistress (whom I subconsciously named after Charlie by naming her Charlotte, even though the mysterious guy is Cousin Michael). Then it went from there, and I’d say it evolved the way I had envisioned it.

DC: I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

SJ: My characters surprise me all the time. I plot a book thoroughly at the beginning. Then I write what I want. Seriously, though, I have certain things I know I want to happen and those always do, but I make a lot of changes in plot as the story goes on, largely because I just CAN’T know my characters until I start writing the book. It takes me a few chapters to really feel like I know them, and those first few chapters get rewritten 10 and 11 times until I do. That’s why I find myself discovering stuff around every corner. My heroine will blurt out something to the hero, and I’ll think, “Wow, didn’t know that. That changes everything.” I’m a firm believer that the Subconscious acts as a silent partner in every author’s writing.

DC: Wed Him Before You Bed Him and Don’t Bargain with the Devil are your latest releases. First, who came up with the titled for Wed Him? Great job! Would you give our readers a little insight into each book?

My editor came up with the title for Wed Him Before You Bed Him. She’s brilliant that way. As the last book in the series, it’s Charlotte’s story, which finally answers the question running through all the previous books, “Who is Cousin Michael?” Don’t Bargain with the Devil leads up to it with the story of Lucy Seton, who was a secondary character in Let Sleeping Rogues Lie. Lucy goes to war with the school’s new neighbor, a Spanish magician who appears to be jeopardizing the future of Mrs. Harris’s finishing school. But he’s really trying to return her to her Spanish grandfather without her adoptive father’s knowledge.

Excerpt from Wed Him Before You Bed Him:

He certainly seemed impatient for Charlotte to be gone, given how he hurried her out of the ballroom and down the stairs. But when they reached the bottom of the staircase, she realized his impatience was not for that. Before they could head for the entrance or attract the notice of the footmen at the far end of the passage, he pulled her into the nearby library. Then closing the door, he hauled her into his arms.

“What—”

“Not one word, Charlotte,” he murmured. “Not now. Just let me have this.”

Then he kissed her with such fierce intent that her toes curled in her slippers. Oh, heavens, what the man could do with his mouth. It was tender and bold all at once, and so needy it made her heart ache for him.

When at last he drew back, she dropped her reticule to grab his lapels and tug him down to her again, not ready to end their interlude.

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a guttural moan, he shoved her against the door, his mouth savaging hers, his tongue thrusting deep as his lean body slid against her in a motion that was unmistakably intimate. Already she felt the ridge of his flesh pressing insistently against her belly. His hands roamed up and down her sides, over her hips and up to her breasts.

But when he filled his hands with them, she pushed him back. “No,” she said softly. “Not here.”

A dark knowing flared in his face. Oh, Lord, she’d as much as said that elsewhere would be fine.

Unfortunately, that was true. She wanted him. She had always wanted him. And would it be so very bad to have an affair? She was a grown woman. She could do as she pleased. And so could he.

He bent his head to her cheek, dragging his open mouth along her jaw to her ear. “Then where?” he murmured. “When?”

She could hardly think with him still cupping her breasts. “We ought to wait until after—”

“No, damn it.” He nipped her ear lobe with his teeth. “I won’t. And you don’t want to either.”

A pox on him for being right. “Well … then … we must be discreet.”

“Discreet, yes,” he breathed in agreement against her ear.

Her mind was swimming, her body alive to the feel of him. “I just know it cannot be here.”

“Right.” Yet he reached for her leg and pulled it up, pushing into her, mimicking the act he wanted to perform. “Not here.”

She must be mad, both to be considering this, and to be letting him touch her now. They could be discovered at any moment. “We have to stop.”

“Yes.” Still, he tried to take her mouth again.

This time she shoved him hard enough to make him fall back. His gaze burned into her like a brand, sparking a fever in her chest.

“Not here,” she said firmly. “Not tonight.” She had to escape him, to think about what she was doing. Before she fell into something she regretted. “I have to go. We can talk about this later.”

“Tomorrow.” His eyes glittered in the firelight. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow when I take you to see those properties.”

“Properties?” she said inanely.

“The ones for the new school building? Remember? So you don’t have to deal with a race course next door?”

“Oh. Right.” She had completely forgotten about that. At the moment she could hardly think.

Still trying to catch her breath, she bent to retrieve her reticule, then remembered something else. “Didn’t you tell my personal footman that you would give me a list of those properties tonight so I could look it over?”

“Of course.” Delving inside his coat pocket, he drew out a folded sheet of paper, but when she seized it, he grabbed her by the wrist. “You must promise you won’t go tour them without me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous for a woman to do that sort of thing alone. Some sellers are unscrupulous, and some of the vacant properties could have vagrants—”

“I have Terence.”

With a scowl, he tightened his grip on her wrist. “I’m not giving you the list unless you promise.”

“Oh, very well. I promise.” As he released the list, she tucked it into her reticule and opened the door to peek out into the hall. Fortunately, the footmen were involved in a heated discussion, leaving the two of them free to slip out and head for the entrance as if they’d just descended the stairs.

While waiting for her carriage to be brought, they said very little, but she was painfully aware of his body beside hers, of its heat and strength, which could be hers whenever she wanted. The knowledge was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Merciful heavens, when had she turned into such a wanton?

DC: Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing? Who usually wins?

SJ: I don’t argue with them much, but they usually win. Once in a while I have to slap them around, but not too often. I figure the characters know better than I do what will work for them. (Yes, I realize that all of that is in my subconscious, but it manifests itself as the characters talking to me.)

DC: What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

SJ: Checking my E-mail, surfing the Internet, Spider Solitaire, family stuff. Fortunately, I don’t have the first three distractions on the computer where I do my writing. I deliberately write on an internet-free computer.

DC: What’s it been like having your books reissued with such different covers? The Forbidden Lord had a gorgeous cover before, but, heavens, the new one is terrific!

SJ: It’s cool! I like the new cover of Forbidden Lord better than the original, but I didn’t like the original much. They’re reissuing The Dangerous Lord next year, however, and I LOVED the original cover for that one, so it will be interesting to see if they can top it.

DC: What has been your favorite book cover from all of your releases and why?

SJ: It was probably Dangerous Lord, come to think of it. I love the mysteriousness of it and the moonlit night and the dark blue. Or maybe Beware a Scot’s Revenge, which has such a gorgeous stepback and evocative front.

DC: How about your least favorite cover? Why?

SJ: My least favorite of my Sabrina Jeffries covers is probably In the Prince’s Bed, because the heroine looks like she’s wearing a diaper.

But my least favorite of all is my Deborah Nicholas cover for Night Vision. The hero looks anemic, the angle is all wrong, and it has a clown doll on it when the doll that figures in the book is a Barbie!

DC: Okay, for some reason this has escaped my knowledge: You also write under two pseudonyms, Deborah Martin and Deborah Nicholas. I did not know that. Why? And why two different names?

SJ: I don’t write under them anymore. I wrote as those two in my “first” career. Basically, pseudonyms are meant to distinguish between different styles of writing. In my case, my Sabrina Jeffries books are lighter, sexier historical romances than my Deborah Martin books were. They have more dialogue and more sensuality, but less density and complicated plots. What can I say? I always preferred to read that sort of book, and I finally decided to try my hand at writing it.

My Deborah Nicholas books were contemporary paranormal romantic suspense books, so they’re miles apart from my current books, and from my Deborah Martin books. And all my various publishers preferred that I take pseudonyms to make it easy for readers to know which sort of book they were getting. It’s used more for authors before they become successful. Publishers are afraid that a book written in one subgenre will affect the sales of one written in another subgenre if they are published under the same name. So they suggest you take different names. In my case, my Deborah Martin books weren’t terribly successful, so they asked me to take a pseudonym when I started writing a different type of historical.

DC: Can you suggest a title or two from the under those two names for someone to pick up if they haven’t read anything by you there?

SJ: Since I haven’t written as Deborah Martin or Deborah Nicholas for years, the books are unavailable new, but you can still find copies in used bookstores and online used outlets. Storm Swept is probably my favorite of my Deborah Martin books, and Silent Sonata for my Deborah Nicholas, but everyone has different favorites. I do have some fans who like my books regardless of pseudonym.

DC: How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

SJ: I really don’t think I write them any differently than I did early in my career, though. Well, except in one respect—they’re both wittier and less predictable in dialogue, IMO.

DC: LOL, your Will & Jane page on your site is just great. How did you get into doing comics in the first place and then tell us about Comic Life, please.

SJ: Two years ago for Christmas, my agent gave me a Jane Austen action figure. Then I bought a Mac, and my brother introduced me to the software Comic Life. I thought it was fabulous. I’d already done handmade cartoons on my site, but Comic Life made it so much easier. A while later, my husband bought me a Will Shakespeare figure for yet another Christmas present. Except this time Will was more of a caricature. And he was short. When I put the two figures next to each other, I flashed on how they would interact as action figures. And that was it! Will and Jane were born.

DC: Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

SJ: I have a couple of ideas for books of a different subgenre—mostly suspense, mainstream, and time travel—but haven’t had the time to pursue them. The more successful you become as a novelist, the more frequently your readers want books, which makes it difficult to justify time spent experimenting in another area or genre.

DC: What advice would you give to your younger self?

SJ: Probably the same advice I would give anyone. Perseverance is the key. You must keep writing, keep putting your work out there, and keep learning before AND after you get published. Never think you’ve come too far to learn.

DC: You have more than 3 million books in print. 3 million! That’s a staggering number. When you really think about that, well, what comes to mind??

SJ: Most of the time, I don’t really think about it! But yes, I guess it really is a lot (and it’s more now, closer to 4 million). I AM thrilled, though, to think that so many of my books are available. I never dreamed I’d get this far in my career.

DC: If you were a book, what would your blurb be?

SJ: A wacky author finds friends and a fruitful life in the world of romance novels. Sounds pretty boring, huh!

DC: What would be your “voice’s” tagline?

SJ: I have NO clue. I’m not very good at assessing my own voice, I’m afraid.

DC: For those one or two people out there who have yet to read your books, where would you suggest they start to first get a flavor of your writing?

SJ: That’s hard to say. To Pleasure a Prince and Wed Him are two of my more emotional books, Let Sleeping Rogues Lie is one of my more unusual books, and I think Never Seduce a Scoundrel and One Night with a Prince are two of my wittiest books. It kind of depends on what the reader is looking for. All my books are not the same, by any means. Just read the reviews for proof of that!

DC: If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

SJ: I’d probably be a teacher. I taught college for a while.

DC: What’s on the horizon for Sabrina Jeffries?

SJ: The first book of my new series, The Hellions of Halstead Hall, comes out January 19, 2010, and is entitled The Truth about Lord Stoneville. It’s about a character from the Heiress series, Lord Stoneville, who captured the imagination of my readers (and whom a lot of people expected to be Cousin Michael). The series is about him, his two brothers, his two sisters, and their cranky grandmother. They’re a family in crisis, thanks to an age-old scandal in their lives, and now their rich grandmother has issued an ultimatum—marry or be cut off. And not just one of them, but all of them. Some of the Heiress characters will show up from time to time (his friends, after all, married heiresses or teachers from the school), and some of the characters from the Heiress series are sure to have a place in this series, and perhaps even books of their own.

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate? – Dark chocolate
- smooth or chunky peanut butter? – Chunky
- heels or flats? – Flats
- coffee or tea? – Coffee
- summer or winter? – Fall (I’m contrary that way)
- mountains or beach? – Mountains
- mustard or mayonnaise? – Mustard
- flowers or candy? – Flowers, unless the candy is dark chocolate
- pockets or purse? – Purse
- Pepsi or Coke? – Coke
- ebook or print? – Print, but that will change if I get a Kindle. 

And just because:

1. What is your favorite word? – Love
2. What is your least favorite word? – Retard
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? – Music
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally? – Sports
5. What sound or noise do you love? – Hmm, there’s so many—the wind in the trees, waves crashing, soaring violins … hard to choose one.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? – Cars crashing
7. What is your favorite curse word? – Um, do I have to answer that? I have a bit of a potty mouth
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? – Actress
9. What profession would you not like to do? – Golfer
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? – “Well done.”

DC: Sabrina, what a joy it was to have you here today. Thank you!

This just in…

Sabrina Jeffries has a great contest going on for fans of her historicals.  And if you live near or can get to Raleigh, North Carolina, there’s an extra special treat for you.

~ You can be the one to name a character in the next Sabrina Jeffries book!

~ AND you can join Sabrina for lunch to chat about name possibilities.

~ Sabrina is participating in the No Hassles Valentine’s Ball February 12 through February 14, which is sponsored by The ARC of Wake County.

~ The main event is being held at The Cardinal Club, 50 Fayetteville Street, 28th Floor in downtown Raleigh Saturday, February 14, from 7:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m.  Tickets are $90/person and $170/couple.

~ The winning bidder will be treated to lunch with Sabrina, if they live in, near, or can otherwise get to the Raleigh area, to talk about potential names and the writing life.  The final choice must be period appropriate.

~ The winner will also receive a signed copy of the book upon its publication.

~  To bid without attending the ball, send your bid via e-mail to arcwake@arcwake.org.

~ For all the details, check it out here.

Consider yourself flashed.

Devon’s Review of Snowy Night With a Stranger by Jane Feather, Sabrina Jeffries and Julia London
Historical romance anthology released by Pocket Star 28 Oct 08

I may just be a convert to Christmas-themed anthologies. Many love them, but I have always avoided them like the plague, assuming them to be filled with miracles, “God Bless Us Everyone” treacle, and assorted schmaltz. No doubt it is because my heart is “three sizes too small.” However, after plowing through two anthologies in a weekend, I’m ready for more. Fun! These three tales (by new-to-me authors) all feature characters stranded for the holidays, unexpectedly finding love.

A Holiday Gamble by Jane Feather

While journeying back to his family seat in Northumbria, the new Viscount Allenton, Ned, is hampered by snow and thieves. He is forced to take refuge with a nearby landowner, Roger Selby. He quickly discerns that nothing is what it seems: not his jolly host Selby, not innocent revelers and revelry, and not Selby’s beautiful, diffident ward, Georgiana.

This was a very interesting story. The setting and characters were vivid and a bit unusual. Feather does a great job of portraying the vulgarity and underlying menace of Selby and company. Ned was good beta hero: handsome, but unassuming, and a sharp, intelligent and crafty fellow underneath. He was a great foil for Georgiana, who is quite crafty herself, and has been surrounded by brutish louts. They made a good pair, though I found the leap from interest to true love to be a bit sudden. The story kept my interest and kept me guessing just enough as to what Georgiana and Roger Selby were about.

Grade: B

Summary:

Jane Feather leads an unwitting Yuletide traveler down a twisting path….

Edward Vasey, Viscount Allenton, is journeying precariously through a snowstorm when his coach is overtaken by high-waymen! Robbed of his money, Ned takes refuge at Selby Hall, where a spirited beauty with a shocking secret may steal something more — his heart.

No excerpt found

When Sparks Fly by Sabrina Jeffries

Heiress Elinor Bancroft, her aunt and young cousins get into a carriage accident on their journey. An overbearing, rough fellow, covered in soot, comes to their aid. He turns out to be Martin Thorncliff, “The Black Baron”, and Ellie and her family end up at his estate, where they must remain through the holidays, while the aunt recovers from a broken leg. Ellie is irritated and intrigued by the abrasive Thorncliff. Why is he so grumpy? Why does he hate Christmas? And why is he called “The Black Baron?”

This story was lighter in tone than the first, and featured some familiar elements. Ellie is the spirited, smart wallflower type, unable to interest any man but fortune hunters. Thorncliff is a tormented guy, suspected of nefarious deeds, but a big old teddy bear underneath. But it didn’t feel tired and clichéd, just fun. I didn’t even mind the passel of children running about, as they moved the story along and weren’t too cutesy. (There’s a funny nod to “God Bless Us Every One” too). A cute read with a nice romance.

Grade: B

Summary:

Sabrina Jeffries unlocks the heart of an embittered lord….

When a coach accident strands heiress Elinor Bancroft at the home of the notorious Black Baron, she discovers the Christmas Day heartache that darkened his soul years ago — and her generous heart brings a festive air to his home and reawakens his spirit to love.

Read an excerpt

Snowy Night With a Highlander by Julia London

Lady Fiona Haines is forced to return to Scotland to search for her brother, who has been accused of adultery with the Princess of Wales. Worse, she must call upon the odious Duncan Buchanan to help her get to her family home in the Highlands. But Duncan has changed a great deal in the intervening years, emotionally and physically. Could he now be a man Fiona could love?

Och, if that Scottish dialect doesna get on m’ nerves a bit. It gets to be a bit much when every character talks like that, but after awhile my distraction started to fade. I like road romances and this one kept my interest. The hero and heroine were a bit one-note: Duncan was so angst-ridden and Fiona was so perky, with all her little stories. Duncan’s transformation at the end was a bit speedy. One second he’s hiding in the shadows, the next he’s throwing a huge party. An okay read.

Grade: B-

Summary:

Julia London sends a debutante into the wintry Scottish wilds….

Searching for her rakehell brother, an earl lying low in the wake of a scandalous affair, Fiona Haines is led by a rugged Highlander who obscures his scarred face. As they journey on, Fiona draws closer to her brave, enigmatic protector — but will fury or passion ignite when he reveals his identity?

Read an excerpt

A solid B all the way. While none of the stories blew me away, all three were entertaining and featured solid romances and good characterization. Worth a look by Christmas and historical fans.

Overall Grade: B

Book Summary:

Warm up on a winter’s night with three passionate love stories from three shining New York Times bestselling authors!

I loveseseses this book. This is the reissue so run out and buy it if you haven’t read it yet.

PIRATES! Looks very PoC yes?

The Excerpt:
Captain Gideon Horn sat staring into space. He hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to tell the men that he was giving the convict women a chance to choose their husbands. What demon had come over him to let him suggest such a thing? It wasn’t as if these women expected such privileges. In New South Wales, they’d have had no choices at all, or very little.

Opening a desk drawer, he dug around in the bottom until he found a little-used flask of rum he kept there for when he had the ague. He seldom drank hard liquor for any reason, but today it was warranted. He took a sip, coughed, then took another. A few more sips and his anger evened out a fraction.

So what if he’d given the women a choice? He wanted them to be happy. If they were happy, they’d do as they were told and add their skills to those of his men. Women were needed on Atlantis, not just to provide an outlet for the men’s sexual urges, but to perform other tasks as well–cooking and weaving and gardening, things his men knew nothing about. And if giving the women a little freedom of choice made them more amenable to their situation, he’d do it. The men would understand once he explained it to them that way. Certainly, he’d prefer that his own wife, whomever he chose, married him of her own free will.

A brief knock sounded at the door. Thrusting the rum flask into the drawer, he settled back in his seat and called out, “Come in.”

Miss Willis entered. When the reformer had left his cabin before, she’d been full of fire and fury, but now she seemed more subdued, even afraid. Strangely enough, he didn’t particularly like that demeanor on her, and that made him speak more sharply than he should. “Well? Have the women decided to accept my offer?”

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. The fear vanished, leaving behind a fierce determination that showed itself in the stubborn set of her mouth and the glint in her pretty brown eyes. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” He rose from behind the desk, rounding it to stand in front of her. “Remember, if they don’t want to take the week to choose, I’m simply going to let my men pick whom they want–”

“No!” When he raised one eyebrow, she hastened to add, “I mean, they want to have the week, of course. It’s better than the alternative. But they have some questions. We have some questions. About how this will work.”

He settled one hip on his desk, watching her intently. She looked flustered, and that was just how he wanted her to feel. The more flustered she was, the quicker they could settle all this, and he could get her out of his cabin.

Why he wanted to get her out of his cabin, he preferred not to examine too closely. “Ask your questions, but be quick about it. I’ve got a ship to run.”

As relief spread over her face, she tucked a tendril of hair up under her frilly cap and squared her shoulders. “Some of the women have children. Will the men who marry them take on the responsibility for their children as well?”

“Of course. We’re not monsters, you know.”

That brought a frown to her face. Clearly she disagreed.

“And what about the older women? We have several women past child-bearing age. If none of the men wish to marry them, would you choose them a husband who might not want them?”

Confound her, he hadn’t considered that. But that could easily be corrected. “I’ll make an exception for the older women who can no longer bear children. If they find no man who will marry them, they are free to remain unmarried.”

Her breath came out in a sudden whoosh. “So if a woman can find no man to marry her, she doesn’t have to marry.”

“I didn’t say that.” The little witch was putting words in his mouth now. “The women of child-bearing age must still choose a husband, or one will be chosen for them.”

With a sniff, she crossed her arms over her chest. He wondered if she had any idea how she looked standing in the center of his cabin. With that ridiculous cap on and her demure dimity gown torn and dirty from the hurried transfer of the women to the Satyr, she reminded him of an urchin begging favors of a lord. Except he wasn’t a lord, and she was certainly no urchin.

She proved that when she lifted her chin in a lofty expression of defiance. “Suppose a woman is too plain to attract a husband? Will you force some man to marry her just because you want to pair them all up?”

Her words sparked his temper, as much because of her logic as because of her contempt for his plans. He stalked toward her, finding a grim satisfaction in the sudden wariness that leapt into her face. “My men have spent the last eight years at sea with only an occasional night in port to satisfy their need for female companionship. Your women could be horse-faced and snaggle-toothed, and my men would still want them, I assure you!”

It wasn’t entirely true, but he’d had enough of her quibbling. She would follow his rules, if he had to lock her up to do it!

She backed away from him, her cheeks pinkening. But even when she came up against the door to his cabin and saw she was trapped, she continued to plague him. “I hardly believe that your men would want a wife who’s–”

“Enough!” He planted his hands against the oak door on either side of her shoulders, pinning her between them. “Your women have a week to choose husbands. When that week is over, I’ll do as I see fit with whomever’s left unwed, and nothing you say will change that!”

“But you’re not thinking this through,” she protested earnestly, turning her pretty chin up another notch. “If you force people–”

“Why are you being so stubborn? Are you worried you won’t find a husband? Is that it? Are you afraid that nobody’ll choose you?”

The color drained from her face. “Why, you obnoxious, despicable–”

“Because you needn’t worry about that. Plenty of men on this ship will find you attractive.”

Before she could stop him, he tugged her mob cap loose, casting it aside on the floor. As she stared at him with wide eyes, her breath coming in quick, jerky gasps, he felt desire bolt through him, sudden as a summer squall. Auburn strands of hair clung loosely to the bun she’d tortured them into, and her eyes were nearly the same color, a dark, reddish-brown fringed with the longest, most delicate lashes he’d ever seen.

By God, she was beautiful. Peach-tinged lips . . . a wide, white brow . . . and satiny skin with just enough freckles to hint at a mischievous nature. He hadn’t been this close to her before, hadn’t had a good look at that delectable face.

He and his men had come across many Englishwomen during their days of pirating. And though he’d kissed one or two to irk their stuffy husbands, he’d never wanted any of them. Not the way he suddenly wanted this one.

That thought frightened the bejesus out of him. She wasn’t for him, this earl’s stepsister who’d been fool enough to travel aboard a convict ship as a reformer. Let one of his men take the little witch into his bed and suffer her temper and her lofty expectations.

Yet that didn’t appeal to him either.

He should push away from her now, but he couldn’t. Not until he’d seen a little more. In a trance, he removed her hair pins until her hair tumbled down in a twisted rope about her shoulders. He raked his fingers through the thick mass until the strands scattered over his fingers like threads of silk. Soft, so soft. How long had it been since he’d touched a woman’s hair like this? How long since he’d even been this close to a woman?

He twirled one coppery lock around his finger, and that seemed to rouse her from her stunned silence.

“Stop that,” she whispered, a troubled expression crossing her face.

“Why?” He smoothed her hair down over one shoulder, thinking that she had the creamiest skin he’d ever seen, skin that was just begging to be touched.

She gasped when he stroked one finger up along the curved contours of her neck. “It’s not . . . proper,” she said.

That made him smile. “Proper? We crossed the line from proper to improper right after you left the Chastity. You’re on a pirate ship, remember? You’re alone in a cabin with a notorious pirate captain . . . you’ve lost your proper little cap . . . and I’m about to kiss you.”

As soon as he’d said the words, he knew they were a mistake, and not because of the outrage that filled her face. Kissing her was dangerous. She wasn’t the woman for him.

But he had to taste her once. Just a little taste.

So before a protest could even leave her lips, he brought his mouth down on hers.

Ok I am going to work toward getting all the nifty prizes logged today and we will start giving them out. Some of them will go to random comment in a post with these icons. WHAT icons?

SSE EXCERPT: Dear Santa by Karen Templeton

EXCERPT Part II: Thigh High: Thigh High by Bonnie Edwards

EXCERPT: Give Me a Texan: The Love Letter by Linda Broday

EXCERPT: Give Me a Texan: No Time for Love by Phyliss Miranda

EXCERPT: Give Me a Texan: A Shade of Sunrise by DeWanna Pace

EXCERPT: Give Me a Texan: Amarillo By Morning by Jodi Thomas

EXCERPT Part III: Thigh High: Twinkle Twinkle Little Thong by Bonnie Edwards

Excerpt from Viking Warrior, Unwilling Wife by Michelle Styles
new historical release from Mills & Boone with a UK release in June 2008

Yours, Mine…or Ours is book two in Karen Templeton’s Guys & Daughters series (Dear Santa, Yours, Mine…or Ours? and Baby, I’m Yours)

Excerpt of Taken by the Viking by Michelle Styles, coming 1 May!!
Historical romance released by Harlequin 1 May 2008

Excerpt Unlawful Contact by Pamela Clare aka the one to steam the screen

I am missing some and will add them tomorrow (I see Kresley Cole’s aren’t here). More excerpts to come from Lisa Kleypas, Jill Shalvis, Lynne Connolly, Stephanie Tyler, Caroline Linden, HelenKay Dimon, EC Sheedy, Liz Carlyle, Hope Tarr, Lora Leigh, Sabrina Jeffries, Jenna Petersen, Laura Drewry, Sydney Croft, Roxanne St. Claire, Jennifer Estep, Cheryl St.John and many more….

As well as some nifty prizes from t-shirts and books *g*. Some you will have to answer questions from the excerpts and other will be random drawings from the comments.

first recap can be found here

How Flashdance… LOL 

It’s Raining Excerpts!EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: Secrets of Surrender by Madeline HunterEXCERPT Part I: Thigh High: Parlor Games by Bonnie Edwards

EXCERPT: Phantom Pleasures by Julie Leto

EXCERPT Part I: Unlawful Contact
EXCERPT Part II: Unlawful Contact
EXCERPT Part III: Unlawful Contact
EXCERPT Part IV: Unlawful Contact

SSE EXCERPT: Dear Santa by Karen Templeton

EXCERPT Part II: Thigh High: Thigh High by Bonnie Edwards

EXCERPT: Give Me a Texan: The Love Letter by Linda Broday

EXCERPT: Give Me a Texan: No Time for Love by Phyliss Miranda

EXCERPT: Give Me a Texan: A Shade of Sunrise by DeWanna Pace

EXCERPT: Give Me a Texan: Amarillo By Morning by Jodi Thomas

EXCERPT Part III: Thigh High: Twinkle Twinkle Little Thong by Bonnie Edwards

Excerpt from Viking Warrior, Unwilling Wife by Michelle Styles
new historical release from Mills & Boone with a UK release in June 2008

Yours, Mine…or Ours is book two in Karen Templeton’s Guys & Daughters series (Dear Santa, Yours, Mine…or Ours? and Baby, I’m Yours)

Excerpt of Taken by the Viking by Michelle Styles, coming 1 May!!
Historical romance released by Harlequin 1 May 2008

Excerpt Unlawful Contact by Pamela Clare aka the one to steam the screen

I am missing some and will add them tomorrow (I see Kresley Cole’s aren’t here). More excerpts to come from Lisa Kleypas, Jill Shalvis, Lynne Connolly, Stephanie Tyler, Caroline Linden, HelenKay Dimon, EC Sheedy, Liz Carlyle, Hope Tarr, Lora Leigh, Sabrina Jeffries, Jenna Petersen, Laura Drewry, Sydney Croft, Roxanne St. Claire, Jennifer Estep, Cheryl St.John and many more….

As well as some nifty prizes from t-shirts and books *g*. Some you will have to answer questions from the excerpts and other will be random drawings from the comments.

Alicia’s review of Let Sleeping Rogues Lie (School for Heiresses, Book 4) by Sabrina Jeffries
Historical romance released by Pocket on 19 Feb 08

I actually decided to read this book after the Valenduckie posts. I loved Sabrina Jeffries posts here at TGTBTU so it was natural to want to read her book when I got the chance. Right off, the writing style was smooth and easy to read. The kind you can just relax into and enjoy.

Since Sandy has already reviewed this book, I’ll quickly give you the basics:

Madeline is a bluestocking, intellectual type who has lost her mother and her father has had a tragic incident which has rendered him too depressed to do anything. She is supporting them both by teaching at the local school for ladies but she also hopes to meet a chemist who will support her father’s innocence. She has never had any success with attracting men because she is so smart and has a tendency to respond intellectually in conversation where most girls would titter and flirt so she is resigned to being a spinster and doesn’t dwell on that sad fact because her father’s troubles are so much more important. *sucks in a deep breath*

Anthony is a rake who hasn’t tried to suppress his inclinations since he was an eight year old boy but now he needs to get custody of his niece so he needs to convince a court that he has changed his ways and is now a respectable and responsible adult man. He approaches the school hoping that by enrolling his niece in a good school he will help his chances of getting custody of her but the school has no openings at that time and he enters into a devils bargain with Madeline to get her to champion his cause to the headmistress so that she will make an exception and enroll the girl. So, that’s basically what the story is about. *sucking air and panting*

Madeline is a very good bluestocking. Ms. Jeffries did this, not with boring text showing Madeline’s knowledge in any area, but with a conversational style. Madeline is oblivious to the normal social talk that would be expected of her and instead asks analytical questions at the oddest times. Not to the point that it becomes ridiculous but just enough that her character rings true. She isn’t some tremendous genius, just intellectual in nature.

I loved Anthony’s predicament of having to discuss with innocent young ladies subjects that are totally inappropriate. He is so cute when he’s squirming! But the best part is his name for his manhood *snicker*. I’ll make you read it, but it’s great!

Take this book lightly. Don’t read it when you want deep relationship building because it would be weak in that area. They fall in love pretty quickly and, maybe, a bit too easily. For me it wasn’t a problem. The strong dialogue and wit along with the punch-in-the-gut moments of sexual tension make this book a joy to read. The kind of story you can trust to whisk away the real world for a while. It’s fun.

Grade: B

From the back cover:

     When Madeline Prescott took a teaching position at Mrs. Harris’s School for Young Ladies, it was to help restore her father’s reputation. Instead, she’s in danger of ruining her own. The devilishly handsome Anthony Dalton, Viscount Norcourt, has agreed to provide “rake lessons” to Mrs. Harris’s pupils so they can learn how to avoid unscrupulous gentlemen, and Madeline is to oversee his classes. She has always believed that attraction is a scientific matter, easily classified and controlled — until she’s swept into the passionate desire that fiercely burns between her and Anthony. Nothing could be more illogical than risking everything for a dalliance with a rake — even one who’s trying to behave himself. Yet nothing could be more tempting….

     Read an excerpt.

Sandy M’s review of Let Sleeping Rogues Lie, (School for Heiresses, Book 4) by Sabrina Jeffries
Historical romance released by Pocket on 19 Feb 08

I’m going to get it out of the way first thing — I’ve never read Sabrina Jeffries. Not that I haven’t wanted to. I definitely have wanted to, I have most, if not all, of her books in the to-be-read pile. It’s more of too many books, too little time. However, reading this book has cured that problem for me. I will be making the time and reading a lot more of Ms. Jeffries now.

I love everything about this book. The writing is simply superb. I was pulled immediately into the story, and she had me laughing within the first few pages. Not many authors can do that and do it well. The characters are strong, yet vulnerable, each with their own secrets and desires, their own way of dealing with those secrets, each learning they can be loved and can love.

Madeline is a teacher at Mrs. Harris’ School for Young Ladies and has tried to make herself invaluable to the headmistress, which she has done quite successfully. She has to be careful, however, because she has not been totally honest about the scandal centering around her father, and her main purpose now is to find the one person who can make the scandal disappear and return her father to her from the melancholy man he’s become.

Her luck changes the day a notorious rogue shows up to claim a position at the school for his niece who recently lost her parents. She knows of the connection between him and the man she needs to find and suddenly Madeline has become adept at blackmail, and it is such fun watching her do it. But just as suddenly she finds herself succumbing to this man who should be the worst kind to become involved with, but the desire he sets coursing through her will not allow her to walk away from him.

Having done nothing but what he’s wanted to in his life - a life full of debauchery – Anthony suddenly finds himself the new viscount and responsible not only for the family’s wealth, but also his niece.  A niece who is currently in the clutches of an aunt and uncle who he knows only too well will suck the life right out of his niece. Determined to not allow that to happen, he knows he must change his rakish ways and show the court he is responsbile enough to care for the girl.

His first order of business is have her enrolled in a prestigious girls’ school, which just happens to be Mrs. Harris’ School for Young Girls. However, things don’t go quite the way he’d planned once he meets the prettiest school teacher he’s ever seen. He finds he has to prove himself by teaching rakehell lessons, something he defintely knows about, but teaching it is another matter entirely. And then there’s Ms. Prescott, a woman who is nothing like she seems. It is so delicious to see Anthony day by day change because of Madeline’s influence on him and have him realize how he’s wasted so much time over the years.

Anthony and Madeline have an instantaneous rapport that had me laughing out loud, especially once he started teaching his classes. The attraction between them is powerful and it steadily grows into an equally powerful love that has each of them sacrifcing for the other. It is especially emotional because it is Anthony who is the one who changes the most, wanting Madeline to confide in him knowing he can help her, wanting to help her, confiding in her about his childhood at the hands of his aunt and uncle, something he’s never told anyone, and it’s a very visceral scene when he bares his soul to her, which leads to the most passionate and intense loving between them. The secondary characters add such depth to the story, especially the delightful girls attending the school. The rakehell lessons scenes are wonderfully done.

I have become an instant fan of Ms. Jeffries. She has entranced me and made me yearn for more of the adventures of her characters, and I know I will not be disappointed.

Grade: A+

From the back cover:

When Madeline Prescott took a teaching position at Mrs. Harris’s School for Young Ladies, it was to help restore her father’s reputation. Instead, she’s in danger of ruining her own. The devilishly handsome Anthony Dalton, Viscount Norcourt, has agreed to provide “rake lessons” to Mrs. Harris’s pupils so they can learn how to avoid unscrupulous gentlemen, and Madeline is to oversee his classes. She has always believed that attraction is a scientific matter, easily classified and controlled-until she’s swept into the passionate desire that fiercely burns between her and Anthony. Nothing could be more illogical than risking everything for a dalliance with a rake–even one who’s trying to behave himself. Yet nothing could be more tempting…

Read an excerpt.

Our OMG-We-LUVS-her Story Cupid, Sabrina Jeffries has picked the winners from our soon to be best seller Valenduckie Round Robin story and title contests.

Actually, she picked the winners DAYS ago, but never let it be said that the duckies are party poopers. Nope, we believe in dragging out keeping the party going for as looooong as possible.

Pocket will be sending each of you a copy of Sabrina Jeffries latest release, Let Sleeping Rogues Lie. WOO-HOO!

Please email your contact info to Sybil, who will forward it to Sabrina. PLEASEPLEASE put “Sabrina Jeffries Valenduckie Contest” in the subject line.

Sabrina Jeffries newest novel is out as of today! Yes I know you are wanting to know if you won a copy! And I know. But really our Valenduckie event has been so swell, much do to the ever amazing round robin styling of Sabrina we have no choice but to go out on high note by giving away her new release.
Right? And really people there are a ton of prizes to do and formating to do and really you would expect no less of us right? But this post isn't all about tormenting you, oh no no no, tis a reminder that the valenduckie's who had contests should now have the nifty word WINNER next to their name on the side bar. And we will update that as their posts finish going live tomorrow.

Until then, if you haven't already gone and picked up the book... here is a reason why you should

“Rakehell lessons!” Mrs. Harris retorted. “You suggest that I let the fox into the henhouse to corrupt our girls?”

Oh, for God’s sake— “I don’t ‘corrupt’ children. Why should I, with plenty of already corrupted grown women to choose from? Virginal schoolgirls with pistol-packing papas and insecurities are far too much trouble. I prefer women who know what they want and aren’t ashamed to take it. From me.” He scowled down at Miss Prescott. “Which is why I’d have nothing of use to teach your pupils.”

“You’d be surprised,” the petite teacher persisted. “Surely the techniques of seduction are the same for any woman. You’re rumored to have enjoyed the . . . . er . . . favors of several widows. You must have used some tricks to entice them, the sort a less scrupulous man might use to seduce an innocent.” Miss Prescott flashed him a guileless smile that made her creamy skin glow. “Unless you’re claiming that women fall into your arms simply because of your dashing air.”

“It’s as good a reason as any,” he shot back, annoyed by the teacher’s clear immunity to his “air.” “I have no idea why women choose me for a lover. Perhaps you should ask them.”

“Give me a list, and I will.” When he blinked, the woman cast her employer a quick glance and added in a warning tone, “Though such an investigation could considerably lengthen the process of getting your niece enrolled here.”

Was the woman trying to help him circumvent her employer? If so, it must be for reasons of her own. He’d met enough teachers in his endless trek through London’s schools to know they were all eager to escape their miserable existence.

And yet …

She seemed different. For one thing, she was far prettier. For another, she dressed like someone who actually enjoyed what she did. No gray woolens for Miss Prescott. Her cheery gown of yellow spotted muslin complemented her fair coloring and skimmed her petite form in all the right places.

Some might deem Mrs. Harris the more beautiful of the two because of her exotic red hair and blue eyes, but the widow’s stiffness put him off. He found Miss Prescott’s open and honest manner more appealing. She reminded him of a country dairymaid, with her honey-gold curls and apple cheeks.

Except for those unusual amber eyes. Cat’s eyes. Temptress eyes. Yet remarkably, eyes that assessed him as one might a fascinating sculpture, without flirtation or censure. Women never looked at him like that. It made him wonder if she really was trying to help him and Tessa.

Not that it would do any good, given the absurdity of her proposal. “I wouldn’t know how to give these lessons. I’m not conscious of using any ‘tricks.’”

Miss Prescott let out the unfettered laugh of someone who’d never been coached by a society mother. “Forgive me, but didn’t you once say ‘where there’s a widow, there’s a way’? That does imply a certain polished skill with women.”

He tensed. The idiotic comment he’d made to his friends while foxed had dogged him for years. How clever of her to use it to make him sound like a calculated seducer. Granted, he was no saint, but he wasn’t like his friend, the Marquess of Stoneville, bedding women just to prove he could. Perhaps she was more critical of his character than she let on. Perhaps she was like everyone else.

Deliberately, he let his gaze linger on her pretty mouth. “Touché. Although, for the sake of my pride, I hope you’ll admit that some of my talent with women comes from my natural charms.”

The chit didn’t so much as blush. “Certainly. If you will admit that some men are better at attracting a female and keeping her interest than others, regardless of looks. Just as some women are better at attracting men.”

She faced the wary Mrs. Harris. “Our young ladies know how to attract men. But if they could hear how men entice women—especially from a man who excels at it—they might learn to recognize when men who court them aren’t sincere.”

“Men like me, you mean,” he drawled, still unsure what to make of her. “Do you think me insincere?”

“Actually, my lord, you’re rather famous for shocking people with your honest and outrageous opinions.” She arched an eyebrow. “Though I suspect you’re more circumspect with women you wish to seduce.”

He stared at her. “That depends on the woman.”

“Exactly,” she said. “And that alone would be a good lesson for our girls—how a rakehell can tailor his seductions to particular women.”

His eyes narrowed. So that’s she meant by rakehell lessons. But why press her employer for them? Just because of the few things he’d said about Tessa?

Shoving his hand in his pocket, he suddenly encountered the paper mache snuff box his niece had “specially made” for her “favorite uncle.” It hadn’t occurred to her that he never took snuff, and he hadn’t enlightened her, especially after seeing the charmingly awful miniature of herself she’d painted on the lid.

She’d given it to him their last Christmas before Wallace’s untimely death. The last time they’d all been together. The last time he’d seen her smile.

He stiffened. Miss Prescott’s proposal might be odd and rather insulting, but he could put up with that if it saved Tessa from even one day of suffering.

“If his lordship were to give these lessons,” the prickly Mrs. Harris asked, “how would that prove his acceptability as a guardian?”

Good question. He glanced expectantly at Miss Prescott.

“Why, it will allow us to observe how he treats them. We’ll see firsthand if he can restrain his language around them and behave like a gentleman. We’ll see if he can be discreet, which seems to be your main concern.”

Mrs. Harris sighed. “While I admit that the idea has merit, Madeline, it also seems a little dangerous.”

For him, perhaps. Aside from wasting his time if nothing came of it, one of their silly girls could claim he’d made untoward advances. Marriage to a virginal chit scheming to become his viscountess wasn’t in his plans, especially since the ensuing scandal would scotch his chances of gaining guardianship of his niece.

They were talking about Tessa’s future. Perhaps he shouldn’t risk it, especially when they’d given him so few assurances.

“I will oversee the lessons myself,” Miss Prescott told her employer. “I’ll make sure his lordship adheres strictly to the rules of the school, and that—”

“Look here,” he broke in, “if I’m to make a fool out of myself before your young ladies, I’ll need more than some vague hope that you’ll agree to my niece’s enrollment. I daresay no other applicant has to go through such nonsense.”

“I turned away four wealthy young ladies last week, sir,” the headmistress said in a haughty voice. “As I told you, I have no openings available for this year’s sessions. If I were to take your niece, I’d have to make room for her, no small feat during our busy Easter term. And we’ve just lost our cook—”

“I’m sure his lordship could help us find another.” Miss Prescott shot him a sidelong glance. “Just as I’m sure Mrs. Harris will promise to write a letter supporting your petition for guardianship if she’s pleased with your lessons.”

He fixed his gaze on Mrs. Harris. “Is that true? Would you make such a promise?”

“That depends. Miss Prescott assures me that your niece will be mistreated if put into her relations’ care. Do you honestly believe that?”

He nodded. “I’ve been sure of it ever since I watched my aunt bully the girl at my brother’s funeral to make her stop crying.” He’d hoped his aunt had softened with age, but her behavior to Tessa had dashed that hope. It reminded him too painfully of his own boyhood.

To his surprise, sympathy flashed over Mrs. Harris’s face. “Very well,” she said gruffly, “two weeks are left in this session, during which you will offer rake lessons for an hour a day under Miss Prescott’s supervision. If, at the end of that time, we are satisfied with your behavior and you’ve managed to avoid being discussed in the newspapers for a change, I’ll enroll your niece for the Easter term and write a letter to the court supporting your petition. Are we agreed?”

He hesitated to put himself at the mercy of a woman whose high-minded notions reminded him of his detestable aunt, and he was wary of being under the “supervision” of a woman as difficult to read as Miss Prescott. How he wished he could tell them to take their “rake lessons” and shove them into the nearest privy.

But then Tessa would have no school. The courts would decide that she’d be better off spending her days in the home of a God-fearing couple than in the home of a profligate, and that would be the end to his being her guardian.

The last letter Tessa had been allowed to send had chilled him, since it had been so obviously coached by Aunt Eunice. Ever since the girl could hold a pen, she’d been writing him—he knew her style. It was not the style of that letter. And the very fact that Aunt Eunice was overseeing her correspondence terrified him, for it made him wonder what his niece might have written otherwise.

How much worse would it be if Aunt Eunice gained free rein as Tessa’s legal guardian? What sort of horrors might the old bitch inflict if she could do so unchecked? He well remembered the hours his cousin Jane had spent standing with her face to the wall just for smiling at a handsome boy. And that had been an easy punishment compared to—

He shuddered, absently rubbing the ridged scar across his wrist. He would do anything to keep Tessa from enduring what he and Jane had. And he could use a letter supporting his petition from a woman as upstanding as Mrs. Harris.

Forcing a smile, he thrust out his hand. “Agreed, madam.”

As Mrs. Harris shook it, the weight that had lain on his shoulders since his brother’s death settled more heavily upon him. Damn Wallace for dying, and laying this responsibility at his door. Damn the man!

Given his brother’s dim-wittedness, Wallace had probably set fire to the blasted inn himself with a cigar. And now Anthony, after years of fighting to ignore how the man drove the family estate into the ground, had to clean up the mess Wallace and his extravagant fool of a wife had left behind.

He ruthlessly squelched his twinge of guilt at the unkind thought. If Wallace hadn’t died, he would shoot the man himself. How dared the idiot not make sure that Tessa had a suitable guardian? If anyone other than the Bickhams had wanted to raise the girl, Anthony would have given them his blessing. But letting Aunt Eunice and Uncle Randolph raise his beloved niece—

Not them. Never. The poor confused child would just have to be stuck with her rogue of an uncle until she could marry. And that meant he was stuck with the superior schoolteachers, for a while anyway.

Ah, but it would be a damned trying while, judging from the rules Mrs. Harris began dictating for their outrageous enterprise.

Rule One: He was to arrive by horseback, so as not to rouse gossip among the locals with his carriage.

Rule Two: He must enter the school through the same door the staff used.

Rule Three: He wasn’t to speak of this enterprise to anyone in society.

Speak of it—was she mad? If word got out that he’d agreed to teach young ladies how to avoid seduction, he’d be the laughingstock of London.

“And you must never contrive to be alone with the girls,” Mrs. Harris said.

For God’s sake, this grew more ridiculous by the moment. “Must I? Such a pity. I’d hoped to work my way through them one at a time, sullying their virtue and ruining all their hopes for the future. Are you quite sure you won’t allow that?”

The startled look on Mrs. Harris’s face didn’t please him nearly as much as Miss Prescott’s hastily smothered sputter of laughter.

“Lord Norcourt—” Mrs. Harris began in a warning tone.

“No being alone with the girls. I understand.” The wicked devil in him made him add, “What about being alone with the head of the school? Is that allowed? I could bring some champagne, a few strawberries—”

“Oh, Lord,” the widow said with a roll of her eyes. “Heaven help us, Madeline, he will have the girls falling in love with him before the week is out.”

“All the better to prove our lesson,” Miss Prescott retorted. “That a rakehell can be charming and still not mean a word of it.”

“Or that rakehells are more fun to be around,” he quipped,

That gained him a scowl from both women. He must stop letting his tongue run away with him. Provoking the pompous played well at the club with his friends, but not so well with schoolmistresses.

Mrs. Harris turned to Miss Prescott. “What are we to tell the parents about this? They won’t approve.”

“Why tell them anything?” Miss Prescott said. “We’re doing nothing wrong.”

“But the girls might mention it.”

“Yes, I suppose we must at least explain it to them.” The teacher tapped her chin. “We’ll say that Lord Norcourt’s niece will soon be attending the school, so he’s offering cautionary lessons as a courtesy. If his lessons don’t meet with your approval, we’ll simply claim he changed his mind about enrolling Miss Dalton. Either way, by the time the parents hear of it and protest—if they do—the matter will be resolved. It’s hardly enough time for anyone here to connect Lord Norcourt with the notorious Mr. Anthony Dalton.”

“You did,” he pointed out.

“Exactly,” Mrs. Harris said. “And the girl shares his surname, Madeline.”

“The parents send their children here precisely because our curriculum is unusual. If you explain that the lessons are supervised and appropriate to a young lady’s ears, I doubt they will care.” Miss Prescott slid her delicate hand in the crook of his arm. “Come, my lord, let me give you a tour of the school.”

“Certainly, Miss Prescott,” he said, wondering at her eagerness to hustle him from the office. “I’d be delighted.”

Mrs. Harris’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing as her protégé hurried him out, then walked briskly down the hall ahead of him in full expectation that he would follow.

And follow he did, though at a more leisurely pace to allow him a good look at her small but shapely bottom, made for cupping and fondling and squeezing. No doubt that would rouse a blush in her fair cheeks—

Stop that, you randy arse! he told himself. You can’t seduce Miss Prescott, not if you want Tessa to attend here.

Besides, naturalist or no, she was still a schoolteacher, which made her the marrying sort, not the take-a-tumble-with-a-rake sort. And she was probably as virginal as a nun, too, which ruled her out entirely.

He did have scruples—he’d never ruined a woman before and didn’t mean to start now. It was the surest way to end up trapped into wedding some virtuous and suitable female, which could only lead to disaster. Let other men hunt that elusive creature—the happy marriage. Although occasionally he allowed himself the sweet luxury of imagining himself in one, he knew it could never happen. Men like him didn’t dare to marry.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy looking at the unattainable, he told himself as his practiced gaze drank in the pretty curve of Miss Prescott’s back, the small but obstinate shoulders, and the bouncing yellow curls.

As if she’d read his wicked mind, the young lady turned on him a good distance from the office. “See here, Lord Norcourt, if this is to work, you must be guided by my advice. When I tell you to wait for me, I have a reason.”

“To gossip about me with Mrs. Harris? I hardly think that helped my cause.”

“You’re certainly not helping it by saying outrageous things to her. With every rash remark, you make it more difficult to persuade her to keep you.”

“Keep me!” He eyed her askance. “You seem to have mistaken me for a lapdog, sweetheart.”

“I am not your sweetheart, drat it!” She cast a furtive glance in the direction of Mrs. Harris’s office. “And that’s precisely the sort of rash remark I’m talking about. My employer is generally amiable, but men of your kind annoy her.”

“My ‘kind,’” he echoed.

“Rakehells. You know what I mean.”

“Forgive me, I’m still trying to imagine Mrs. Harris being ‘amiable.’”

With a sigh, Miss Prescott continued down the hall. “You must understand,” she explained as he kept pace with her, “in her youth, she eloped with a dashing rogue who turned out to be quite the fortune-hunter as well. Is it any wonder she dislikes that sort of man?”

“And how do you feel about rogues and rakehells, Miss Prescott?” he asked, watching to see her reaction.

“Having only met my first one today, I can hardly voice an opinion.”

“That doesn’t stop most people.”

“Most people have seen a rakehell in his natural habitat. I have not.”

“Natural habitat?” He laughed. “You are a lover of science.” Stepping in front of her, he blocked her path. “But I know you have an opinion. Everyone does. You won’t wound my feelings if you voice it.” Then he’d know where he stood with her.

A sigh escaped her lips. “Very well then.”

Ah, now we get to the truth. And the lecture.

“From what little I know, rakes seem a fascinating species, well deserving of study.” Sidling neatly past him, she continued down the hall.

He closed his slack jaw long enough to hurry after her. A “fascinating species”? “Deserving of study”? Was she serious?

Seconds later, they emerged into the foyer where he’d earlier been admitted. Sounds of girlish chatter cascaded down the impressive central staircase. The Elizabethan-era building had apparently been a private residence before being adapted for use as a school, and the high ceilings only amplified the noise.

Miss Prescott halted outside a door painted white. “Why don’t I show you the dining room before the girls come down for afternoon tea?” She spoke as if she hadn’t just made the most bizarre pronouncement he’d ever heard. “Then I can bring you up to see the classrooms while the girls aren’t engaged in lessons.”

“All right.” He followed her into a spacious room with a mahogany dining table that easily seated twenty. “Tell me, Miss Prescott. Why in God’s name would you think we rakehells deserve study?”

With a shrug, she strolled along the table, straightening chairs. “Because of your reckless way of life, I suppose. I want to understand how you can stomach it.”

“I want to understand why you think it reckless,” he countered, not sure if she was trying to insult him.

“Don’t you fight duels?”

Ah, that was the sort of thing she meant. “Absolutely not. You have to get up at dawn for those, you know.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you race your phaeton?”

His smug smile faltered. “I don’t own a phaeton.” But he did race his curricle from time to time. No point in mentioning that.

“And I suppose you don’t drink strong spirits either.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“It isn’t good for the constitution, you know. Otherwise, it wouldn’t make generally healthy men suffer from headaches the morning after or cast up their accounts in the street. Surely you see that such reactions tax the body unduly.”

He held out his arms. “Do I look as if I’m teetering on the edge of death?”

Miss Prescott skimmed him with blatant nonchalance. “Not now, but I daresay you look quite different on the mornings after your carousing.”

“I can handle my liquor perfectly well,” he remarked, unaccountably peeved by her logical observation. “I certainly wouldn’t call my ‘carousing’ reckless.”

“Fine.” She strode off toward a door across the room. “Do you gamble?”

“Of course.” This had to be the oddest conversation he’d ever had with a woman.

“Surely you consider that reckless. Given the odds of winning versus losing, any good mathematician can tell you it’s rare for someone to increase their annual income by gambling. Yet rakes insist upon risking the loss of their property.”

“It isn’t a risk if you know the mathematical odds and play accordingly. The odds of winning at loo are about 5 to 1. Of course that depends on whether you’re playing three or five card loo, but when you factor in what trump the Eldest Hand plays to start, it can vary from 5 to 1 to 10 to 4. According to my calculations.”

Her look of shock rapidly changed to one of admiration, and that warmed him as no woman’s ever had. He’d always excelled at mathematics—that’s why he’d been able to supplement his small allowance so effectively with investments—but women weren’t usually impressed by a man’s skill with maths.

To have her look at him through new eyes full of interest roused his rakehell instincts. How easy it would be to step close and kiss that enticing, lushly proportioned mouth…

Now that would be reckless. “The point is, Miss Prescott, I’m well aware of the odds, so I never risk more than I can afford.”

Setting her hand on the door handle, she frowned. “But why risk anything at all? You don’t have to gamble to enjoy playing cards.”

He laughed. “My fellow club members wouldn’t share your opinion, I assure you.”

A thundering noise overhead made her start. “The girls are coming. Quick, through here. We don’t want to be inundated by questions and curious glances.”

With a nod, he followed her into a ballroom. He paid no mind to the oak floors that stretched an impressive distance beneath a crystal chandelier or the rows of simple white chairs that flanked walls covered with elegant green fabric. He was much more interested in why Miss Prescott, with her apparent disapproval of reckless rakehells, had proposed that he give lessons to her charges.

“We have dancing lessons three times a week in here,” she said in the tone of the impersonal guide. “Every Saturday night we hold an assembly for the girls, and once a month we invite local young men to attend so our students can practice their skills with gentlemen.”

“Do you dance, Miss Prescott?” he probed, hoping to learn more about her.

“When I can.” Circling the room, she headed out through the open French doors onto a gallery that afforded a fine view of well-laid-out gardens teeming with roses and lilacs. When she halted beside the marble balustrade, the sheen of gold cast by the afternoon sun over her glorious curls made him itch to touch them.

“I’m surprised that you don’t find dancing to be reckless,” he said, trying not to imagine her slender hips swaying, her pert breasts pushed high in an evening gown until they rose and fell fetchingly with her exertions. She was the marrying sort, remember?

“I suppose dancing can be reckless.” She tipped up her chin at him. “If it leads a man and woman to do other things.”

At last they got to the heart of the matter. Not that he was surprised. He had known she would eventually raise the subject of morality, especially in relations between men and women. The marrying sort always did.

“What ‘other things,’ Miss Prescott?” he drawled, the devil in him determined to force her into speaking the words aloud.

She eyed him as if he were a fool. “You know what I mean. Swiving.”

“Swiving?” He burst into laughter. “You have an interesting vocabulary for a schoolteacher.”

“The word comes from Shakespeare,” she said defensively. “It’s perfectly acceptable.”

“Perhaps for a tavern in Spitalfields, but gentlewomen don’t discuss swiving.”

“Oh, but they should! Then they’d learn the dangers of it. Indiscriminate swiving is the most reckless activity of a rake. It spreads disease, it provokes characters like that Harriette Wilson with her Memoirs to blackmail gentlemen with the threat of ruin, and it can result in the siring of illegitimate children—”

“Disease,” he broke in, incredulous. “Blackmail and illegitimate children. These are what concern you about the indiscriminate swiving of rakehells.”

“Of course.” She eyed him with clear surprise. “What else?”

“Virtue? Morality?”

She snorted. “Those are what make indiscriminate swiving so reckless in the first place. The woman bears the brunt of it, you know. Aside from losing her position and possibly her home, she risks finding herself with child and cast out by a society that dismisses her as ‘immoral’ to excuse its not protecting women from—”

“Men like me?”

“Well … yes.”

The thinly veiled accusation unnerved him. It was true that women could plummet from respectable to disreputable in society’s eyes very easily, even when the man was to blame for it, but he’d never let that little inequity bother him. His lovers had either been soiled doves or widows—having fun with him was entirely their choice. Neither seemed to need much protecting.

With his young niece’s future to consider, however, he couldn’t look at the average woman’s prospects in quite the same way. And that disturbed him. Deeply.

Then it annoyed him. It wasn’t as if he were ruining respectable women right and left. And he was trying to do right by Tessa, damn it, even though it could mean years of enduring long nights alone in his bed, unable to chase away the darkness with drink or whoring.

The thought of what he was giving up—the sacrifice she didn’t even heed—goaded him into looming over her. “Some people, even women, find the pleasures of ‘swiving’ well worth the risks, Miss Prescott.”

Though she caught her breath, she didn’t edge away. “I can’t imagine why.” Her clean, sweetish scent engulfed him as she met his gaze. “You were sincere about behaving as a gentleman while here at the school, weren’t you?”

He started to point out that he’d only agreed to be a gentleman to her pupils. But nothing had changed—she was still the wrong sort of woman to seduce.

With what he considered admirable restraint, he drew back. “I don’t have much of a choice,” he bit out, still chafing over that truth.

“Everyone has a choice, sir.”

“Even those of us born wicked?”

“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “Wickedness is just a pattern of bad behavior, a habit cultivated over time. One merely has to break the habit.”

“Ah, but we both know that habits are hard to break.” Awareness dawned. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I can’t keep from exercising my bad habits around your charges?”

His bluntness brought a shadow to her wholesome features. She dropped her gaze. “What I have heard of you suggests you were telling the truth about your preference for experienced females.”

“And as a naturalist, you really want to trust in that.” He searched her face. “But part of you still worries that the temptation of so much young female beauty will be too much for my … er … habit of seducing women.”

When she met his gaze, her answer plainly showing in her expression, he stiffened. “Don’t worry, Miss Prescott,” he said wearily. “My seduction habits are limited to women. I’m no debaucher of children. You can trust me to behave with perfect propriety around your girls.”

“Good,” she said, relief shining in her face. “I need this position, you know, and if you were to attempt to seduce even one of my pupils—”

“Or you?”

The words were out before he could stop them, and for the first time that afternoon, a flicker of uncertainty deepened her eyes. She masked it with a shaky laugh. “You may attempt to seduce me as much as you please. It would be pointless. I’m too aware of the risks. Besides, such things don’t tempt me.”

The bloody devil they didn’t. “Then you’d best watch your step around me, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Or I will prove you wrong.”

Copyright © 2008 Sabrina Jeffries, LLC

  I am thinking that Sabrina Jeffries has prolly been kicking herself since she agreed last year to lead our Valenduckie Round Robin. Yes, this has been in planning stages for a while… which is a really good thing. As is the fact I am lucky enough to have such amazing quacks around TGTBTU.

You guys once again put together one quacktacular tale and it was a hella good time, which couldn’t have happened without you all. And where our tale is at its end… well it isn’t finished. ::Le GASP::

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet“. – (Romeo and Juliet: Act II, Scene II).

Good Luck!

Welcome to Valenduckie Week!!

All week long we’ll be bringing you the best that romance has to offer – wonderfully romantic stories, memories, and book recommendations. We have enlisted the help of some of the best of the best to help us out in this love-inspired endeavor. One of these cupids is Sabrina Jeffries, author of the upcoming Let Sleeping Rogues Lie (releasing 19 Feb 08). Sabrina has lost her mind graciously agreed to host our Valenduckie progressive story, much the way E.C. Sheedy did for us last Halloween for our Spooktacular event.

So without further ado, I give you Sabrina Jeffries…

You can blame E.C. Sheedy for this. She let Sybil talk her into the Spooktacular last year, and it was such a great success that Sybil dreamed up Valenduckie Week. Which is why I’m here. Because Sybil knows I can never resist a challenge (that Sybil is evol, I tell you).

Unfortunately, I am also supposed to be writing two books this year, a reckless pace for me. So here’s your chance to help me out. I’ll start us off, and anyone who wants to can add a paragraph (or two or three). The story will evolve from there into a glorious Valentine. Or at least a funny one, I hope. Editors across Romanceland will be begging to publish this by the time we get done (begging, I tell you).

I’ll even throw in an epigram to begin, as I do in my books.

Sabrina Jeffries

Great Lord Fabulous looked out, on the Feast of Valentine,
where the snow lay round about, deep and thick and Byzantine.

Fab, as he was known to his Eton friends, scowled. All this damned snow complicated his plans to seduce Lady Aurelia Longbottom. He’d planned to warm her up for the seduction during their drive in his phaeton, but maneuvering the vehicle on bad roads would require all his skill. So no holding hands under the blanket, no fumbling with her skirts. He wanted to tumble her, not … well … tumble her.

At the thought of Lady Aurelia landing bottom-up in the snow, he let a smile touch his lips. It didn’t quite meet his eyes, stopping halfway up the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t his seductive smile-that one he saved for Aurelia. No, it was his devilish smile, the one he used when thinking up dark mischief.

He needed a different plan of attack. Somehow he’d have to persuade Lady Aurelia to ride with him alone in a closed carriage, no small feat with the woman Society called La Prude for her prudent ways.

He felt something lick his hand, and found Raksha nuzzling his wrist. He’d acquired the tiger while spying for the Crown in Tibet. She purred as he scratched her under the chin. “You little minx. Perhaps I should use you to coax La Prude out for a ride. Aurelia likes animals. And you haven’t attacked anyone in at least a month.”

Raksha sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his hand, a little love bite, nothing to worry about. But it gave him an idea…

In addition to a good giggle, adding your bit to our Story Cupid’s tale might net you a copy of Sabrina’s upcoming Let Sleeping Rogues Lie. WOOT!

I would be all for doing January over as long as I don’t have to have another birthday.

Bloglines… still trying to get this worked out. Sorry guys!

Computer at home working again! Woot! Well sort of, really, don’t ask.

Harlequin News! We will be bring you the hot and the happening from the land of Harlequin. I think we decided on monthyly for now, but we will see how it goes… As is I have THREE to post for your enjoyment…

Hopefully we will have our Valenduckie line up posted soon! We will have another nifty round robin, this time being lead by the ever amazing Sabrina Jeffries. And there will be par-tay games and prizes! And cross your wings all the computer crap is over.

But man we have some SERIOUS clean up still to do around here. Thanks for being so patient with us while I break things faster than a pig can fix them .

Sabrina Jeffries, author and procrastinator, gives us her version of 12 Days of Christmas.  Don’t forget to catch her upcoming (and wonderfully titled) Let Sleeping Rogues Lie (School For Heiresses, Book 4), coming 19 Feb 08.

Much as I adore Christmas (and I do), I find it overwhelming when I’m also on deadline (which I am), since, as any of my friends can tell you, I’m easily distracted by shiny things and chocolate. So here’s my version of 12 Days, dedicated to ADD authors everywhere (note that I would rather write this than work on my novella, which just shows how dysfunctional I am).  I present…

An ADD Author’s Dysfunctional 12 Days of Christmas

 On the first day of Christmas, I started writing this: a book from my inner goddess.

 On the second day of Christmas, I started watching this: two TV shows,
then I wrote to please my inner goddess.

 On the third day of Christmas, I started drinking this: three cups of coffee
while watching reruns
as I tried to soothe my nagging goddess.

On the fourth day of Christmas, I started reading this: four great novellas
while drinking coffee,
then watched some “Cold Case,”
thus ignoring my inner goddess.

 On the fifth day of Christmas, I started answering this: five fan e-mails
then I read a while,
drank coffee black,
watched an hour of “Charmed,”
and I wrote a blog to spite my goddess.

 On the sixth day of Christmas, I started skimming this: six old Publishers Weeklies,
then read e-mail,
read a long novella,
drank lots of coffee,
watched “the Daily Show,”
and I wrote around my inner goddess.

 On the seventh day of Christmas, I started plotting this: seven future novels,
then skimmed PWs,
tossed out e-mail,
read a long love scene,
bought me a latte,
watched “Without a Trace,”
and I wrote the book without my goddess.

 On the eighth day of Christmas, I started reading this: eight Sybil blogs,
then plotted novels,
tossed out PWs,
answered e-mail,
read a short novella,
added rum to coffee,
watched the “Messiah,”
and I lied to my inner goddess.

 On the ninth day of Christmas, I started eating this: nine chocolate bonbons,
then swung by Sybil’s,
plotted my novels,
got a new PW,
answered fan mail,
skimmed a novella,
swilled rum-laced Coke,
watched a sappy film,
and I drank with my inner goddess.

 On the tenth day of Christmas, I started wrapping this: ten Christmas presents,
then ate some bonbons,
read blogs at Sybil’s,
wished my plots were better,
tossed aside PW,
ignored e-mail,
stumbled through a book,
bought some tequila,
watched the ticking clock,
and then whined to my inner goddess.

 On the eleventh day of Christmas, I started baking this: eleven Christmas cookies,
then lost the presents,
ate lots of chocolate,
checked in at Sybil’s,
gave up on plotting,
cursed at PW,
fired off e-mail,
decided not to read,
swigged margaritas,
watched myself implode,
and then yelled at my inner goddess.

 On the twelfth day of Christmas, I started screaming this: “Where’s the tequila?”
then I ate the cookies,
gave up on presents,
stuffed myself with chocolate,
grumbled to Sybil,
swore off of novels,
forgot PW,
ignored e-mail,
tossed the book aside,
drank whisky neat,
cursed at Dr. Phil,
then I killed off my inner goddess.

Dysfunctionally yours,
Sabrina

What about you readers and authors out there – what do you do to procrastinate?

Sybil’s review of The School For Heiresses by Sabrina Jeffries, Liz Carlyle, Julia London, Renee Bernard
Historical Romance published by Pocket 26 Dec 2006

This is a very enjoyable anthology. It is fun, flirty, fast and kicks off one ‘sounds like it is going to be grand’ series. The stories tie into The School for Heiresses world created by Jeffries. The heroines have their own personality, which compliments the mix of authors as they have their own style and voice. They tackle a different tried and true theme in romanceland, adding a twist to make it interesting. Two stories worked really well for me, one was okay and one didn’t work at all.

Ten Reasons to Stay by Sabrina Jeffries

The Plot:
‘regency miss trying to escape the evil guardian’s plans to make her marry someone not of her choice to pay off his debt’.

The Characters:
Colin is a very interesting character, who is of mixed race and suddenly finds himself the Earl of Monteith. [If you haven't read Only a Duke Will Do, you should and you get more of his back-story here as well] Eliza has a pretty good head on her shoulders. And is trying to do something vs waiting for someone to rescue her.

The Twist:
Some naughty books and mixed heritage

The Grade:
Sabrina Jeffries has a great way of taking historical fact and expanding on it. Her world may not always follow the letter of the law of history but they come across as believable. I always find myself closing her books with a smile on my face.

Grade: B

After Midnight by Liz Carlyle

The Plot:
‘regency miss getting caught with a rake so they have to marry’.

The Characters:
Martinique is a beauty. She has a brain to match it and a mysterious past in the West Indies which ties into other characters we get to learn too little about. Justin St. Vrain was a very, very naughty boy. Years ago he ran off to Paris with another man’s wife. Now his father is dead and the title his Justin, he is back and trying to figure out what is next.

The Twist:
Martinique is a courtesan’s daughter. The woman Justin ran off with was his stepmother. And the story starts off a new series!

The Grade:
I love this story and the fact that these people aren’t your normal Regency fare. It might have to do with the fact it has made me way excited about the new series. I can’t wait to spend more time with these characters.

Grade A-

The Merchant’s Gift by Julia London

The Plot:
‘wealthy merchant daughter’s duty is to marry a title’.

The Characters:
Grace, as would be expected, has a hard time trying to mix with the ton. Her duty is to marry a title and little else seems to matter. Barrett Adlaine is nothing more than a merchant and thus she believes not for her.

The Twist:
The hero is pretty betaish and does the chasing.

The Grade:
I don’t like the ‘selling your daughter for a title’ plot. And Mr. Holcomb gets way too much screen time, add in this is a novella and it way drops my enjoyment level. I could never see Grace as anything more than a gold digger, regardless of her but it is for my father and expected of me lines. Adlaine should have ran far and fast away from the chit. He was too good of a hero for Grace.

Grade D

Mischief’s Holiday Renee Bernard

The Plot:
‘Nice guy falls for clumsy regency miss evil cousin tries to steal him’.

At least I think that is what it was going for….

The Characters: Alyssa Martin (regency name?!?) wants to get married, fall in love and live happy ever after. And for once, she would like to stay out of trouble while doing it.

The Twist: The story is more of a ‘traditional’ regency.

The Grade:
Cute story with a sweet heroine but too slapsticky for my taste. And the tone was completely different from the other three in style. It may have worked better for me if this was the second in the anthology then to end with it. Regardless the story didn’t seem to end as much as stop.

Grade C-

If you are looking for a meaty historical, keep looking, but if you are looking to lose yourself with some fun characters for a bit, this is just the ticket. Readers of the series will enjoy it but you can pick it up without having read Sabrina Jeffries’ series and follow along just fine.

If you try it or have tried it let me know. From what I can see, many people enjoyed London’s story the most, which was my least favorite. Got to love that .

Next up:

Five Most Often Asked Questions 

[click the question to see answer]

1) How do your parents feel about your writing steamy romances?

I get asked this when people find out that my parents areSouthern Baptist missionaries. And the answer is, they’re fine with it.

Really.

They just don’t read them. Too much sex and cussing, you know. *G*

But otherwise, they’re proud as punch. Sort of.

2) Are you planning to stick with historicals?

As far as I know. I suppose I might wake up tomorrow with a burning urge to write a Sex Goddess Werewolf book, but until it happens, I’ll keep writing historicals.I grew up devouring Barbara Cartlands (my mom disapproved, but she let me read them, thank God) and my favorite authors are mostly Regency historical writers, so I really do love the period. I know some readers are sick of it, but I never get tired of it.

Then again, I eat the same cereal every day for breakfast, too.

3) Is the historical dead?

Not for me.

And obviously not for readers of Lisa Kleypas or Julia Quinn or Madeline Hunter or Mary Balogh or Jo Beverley . . . I’m just saying, there’s a lot of authors still selling out there.

But then I’m not very good with predicting trends–I wrote paranormal contemporary romantic
suspense when you couldn’t sell one to save your life (as Deborah Nicholas), so I sure hope somebody taps me on the shoulder and lets me know before all the readers leave the room and turn out the lights.

I’m really not keen on standing alone in the dark, dreaming up stories nobody cares about.

4) Will the Scottish Scourge (from Never Seduce a Scoundrel) get a book?

Yes. I’m writing it now. It’s set in Scotland, and that’s all I can say or I’ll have to kill you. But not before you give me a spiffy title for the book. Sadly, it still has none.

5) Will Charlotte and Cousin Michael get a book?

Yes, assuming they don’t kill each other first. The letters between them that serve as epigrams for all the chapters of every book in this series (except the anthology) are getting downright testy. I’m going to have to slap them around a bit.

Another book I want that is coming out in March is Never Seduce a Scoundrel the first book in Sabrina Jeffries new series School for Heiresses

The excerpt looks good, I just read it. I really try not to read excerpt if at all possible because then I tend to obsess. Yes I am sure you are shocked.

The second book Only a Duke Will Do ties in with To Pleasure a Prince. Two of my fave secondary characters Louisa North (who gives lessons on court behavior at the school) and Simon, the Duke of Foxmoor are the h/h. I have wanted this book since I finished TPaP .

Release is set for September 2006.

Liz Carlyle will join Sabrina Jeffries (along with Julia London and Renee Bernard) in December 2006 for a School for Heiresses anthology. I believe that will end the series. Very clever idea I think… or maybe that is just because I love to read SJ and LC .

New look for her website with a look and excerpt from her upcoming book Still iffy on Never Seduce a Scoundrel… but hey I have time

Hell I still need to read her last book. For the most part I have enjoyed her books. There are a few I am eh about but nothing I hate and a few I love greatly.

yeah ten to one I buy it