from Mia Marlowe…

I’m the first to admit it. The porcupine and I have not exactly bonded.

I know, I know. Jaunty is our mascot and he’s been with the JQs much longer than me. I should show some respect.

But from the very beginning, I just wasn’t feeling the love. For one thing, I wasn’t expecting the high-handed (Excuse me, ought I to say “high-pawed?”) interview with the porcupine to which I had to submit when I first joined the group. Also, I’m not used to egotistical rodents who demand offerings of pine nuts. Or whine (Sorry, Jaunty, but you do sometimes get a “tone” going, you know!) that we ought to put him in our stories.

But the DH and I were in Rouen, France recently and I saw something there that made me think Jaunty just might have reason to have such a high opinion of himself.

Yep, that’s a porcupine with a golden crown on its pointed little head. (Hey! Don’t take offense, Jaunty. A porcupine is arguably covered with nothing but points!) Anyway, the crowned porcupine is the emblem associated with Louis XII of France who ruled from 1498-1515. He reformed the French legal system, lowered taxes and was adept at handling his nobles. Popular with his subjects, Louis was known as “The Father of his People.” He didn’t even run up the deficit, unlike previous and subsequent monarchs.

But lest our Jaunty get too puffed up, King Louis XII’s dealings with the ladies was nothing to write home about. He was forced to marry a distant relative when he was quite young. How young no one could be certain since there were no accurate records of his birth, but he argued that he had been under the age of consent, which was 14 at the time. Once he unexpectedly became king, he had the marriage annulled, but he didn’t claim he and Queen Joan were too closely related or that he’d been too young to have consented to the marriage. Louis testified that his wife was deformed and he couldn’t consummate the marriage because of it.

Needless to say, the lady was horrified and fought the charges with vehemence. However, the Pope had political reasons for supporting Louis, so the annulment was granted. (Joan entered a convent and was later canonized as a saint in 1950. After a husband like Louis, she deserved it!)

He then married Anne of Brittany and sired 4 stillborn sons and two live daughters. Louis was desperate to beget a male heir for France, so when Anne died in 1514, he lost no time in marrying Mary Tudor, sister of England’s Henry VIII. Three months later he died, reputedly from exhaustion from his exertions in the royal bedchamber, still without a male heir.

Who’s deformed now, Louis?

Anyway, I thought Jaunty might enjoy seeing his royal roots and how his illustrious many-times great-grandfather was commemorated in France. Does this make up for the lack of pine nuts?

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Click to order

Mia’s newest release One Night with a Rake is based on the very real historical race for the English crown. When Princess Charlotte died in 1817, the unmarried sons of King George III realized that if they could present their royal father with a legitimate grandchild, that child might one day sit on the throne. But not everyone wants to see the House of Hanover continue, so Lord Nathaniel plans to seduce Lady Georgette out of royal consideration, one delicious sin at a time…

To Purchase One Night with a Rake
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Books-a-Million
IndieBound
Chapters/Indigo
Discover a New Love
Sourcebooks

Sourcebooks is offering a print copy of Waking Up with a Rake (Book 1 in the Royal Rake series) to one random commenter. US/Canada only. Here’s a question to get the discussion started:

History is often stranger than fiction. Honestly, I could not make some of this stuff up! How much actual history do you like in your historical romance?

 The recipient of the $20 Lowe’s gift card  (from Terri’s Wednesday -The Nest Is Emptying blog) is. . . . .

Ellie!

   Check your email for info! And thanks to everyone for posting!

Terri B

Today is my first post here at The Jaunty Quills, and I must admit to being pretty excited about that.  Initially, I was in a stew about the post, to the point where I worked myself into a mini-anxiety attack.  So I did what any sane person does in that sort of situation:  I whimpered to one of the other Quills for help.  Fortunately, Shana had a great idea.  She suggested I introduce myself by telling readers a few things they might not know about me.  We all have facts or quirks about ourselves we like to share, right?  Here are five of mine!

– In addition to my Regency-set historical romances, I write contemporary romance and romantic suspense with my husband under the pen name of V. K. Sykes.  People often ask me how we work so closely together without killing each other.  Two words:  alcohol, chocolate.

– Although my primary residence is in Ottawa, Canada, hubby and I spend the winter in Florida, in a little cottage by a small lake.  As much as I love Canada, I am eternally grateful to have the ability to escape the Great White North for much of the winter.  It’s a recurring nightmare of mine that life circumstances will someday change so that I’m forced to spend the winter in Canada and the summer in Florida.

– The first romance novel I ever tried to write was a historical set in the Wild West.  It was in first person point of view and was truly awful.

– I could read by the time I was four years old.  Sadly, my first grade teacher held that against me, telling me that I was doing it all wrong.  Ditto for the fact that I was already starting to write by that age, too.

–  I have a new historical romance series coming out in December, called The Renegade Royals.  My editor just sent the first cover along this week, and I’d love to share it with you.

Okay, that last fact was a bit of blatant self-promotion, but you have to admit it’s a beautiful cover!  I’ve been spending way too much time this week staring at it when I should be writing.

So, what about you?  Do you have any secrets or quirks you’d like to share, or a little known fact about yourself?  Comment to win one of two copies of my latest V. K. Sykes sports romance, Curveball.

You know how sometimes things just work out the way they’re supposed to? Luck, fate, destiny, vibrational energies aligning … whatever you call the moment, it’s when, however briefly, the pieces of your life fall into place just the way they’re meant to.

I had one of those moments not that long ago. Having convinced my husband, Arizona, that we needed a second cat (I love our Lucy dearly, but she’s the Anticuddler), I headed to the shelter two towns over. As I drove, I worried over how to choose. How was I supposed to pick just one of the homeless kitties, and how could I guess which one would fit best into our little family?

Thinking hard, I zoomed along the highway, hitting my blinker to get over a lane as I headed over the bridge leading to my exit. Then, all of a sudden, the cars in front of me started doing the swerve-swerve-swerve thing that telegraphs “Eek! Something’s in the road!”

And a little black ball of fur went tumbling across two lanes.

My first thought was, “There’s my kitten!” My second was, “Oh, @$##, it’s going to die!”

Yep. Some cretin had thrown a kitten out the window on I-95, probably trying to get it over the bridge railing and into the water. It had landed on the road, but I’m not sure I’d call that a lucky break, as there was wall-to-wall traffic going sixty and changing lanes like crazy, with everyone honking like that was going to help.

I hit my hazards, pulled over and got out … but there was no way I could get to the poor little kitten, who was splayed flat, trying to hang onto the road as the cars whipped by, blowing it around. So I crouched down and called, “Here, kitty-kitty!” while inwardly thinking, Yeah, like that’s going to work.

But darned if that tiny black kitten didn’t turn its head, lock eyes with me, and come racing over, dodging a whole lot of cars like a game of Frogger, until it finally reached the breakdown lane and dove under my Subaru.

Figuring I was about to get thoroughly clawed, I reached down, grabbed the kitten out from behind my back tire, and held her to my chest … and little Pixel stuck her head under my chin and purred so loud she drowned out the traffic noise. Even a little banged up and a whole lot scared, she knew she had found her way home.

I felt the same way when I wrote Summer at Mustang Ridge, like I was in the right place at the right time. After a decade of penning romantic suspenses and dark paranormals as Jessica Andersen, newly married and ridiculously happy, I wanted to write lighter, funnier contemporary romances that go back to my roots as an animal lover, farm owner, and cowboy worshipper. So I was overjoyed when my editor loved the idea of a new series set at a family-run dude ranch, with all the romance of the Wyoming hills and all the comedy that comes from dropping a bunch of city slickers into the Wild West.

The first book, Summer at Mustang Ridge, is available now, and I hope you’ll check it out. In the meantime, I’d love to hear about your “right place at the right time” moment! All commenters will be entered to win a box of Wyoming-made cowboy chocolates and a tin of Buffalo Smooch lip balm!

For more info on Jesse, who’s just joined the Jaunty Quills as a regular blogger, visit www.JesseHayworth.com

Blog: http://jessehayworthbooks.blogspot.com

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/y20U1

Facebook: authorjessehayworth

Twitter: @JesseHayworth

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Summer-at-Mustang-Ridge-ebook/dp/B009KUX83M/ref=tmm_kin_title_0

Other buy links: http://www.jessehayworth.com/SAMR.html

Excerpt: http://www.jessehayworth.com/SAMR-excerpt.html

In my new book, CELEBRATION’S BRIDE, which will be available June 18, the heroine, Sydney, has a history of being somewhat of a vagabond, moving every few years. Because of her tendency for itchy feet, she usually doesn’t accumulate many personal possessions so she can travel light.

Lately, the Norwegian has been contemplating retirement and we’ve been talking about downsizing and traveling. Naturally, that means I’ll have to pare down. I’m making peace with buying books for my Kindle. That way I’ll be able to take my library with me wherever we go because I couldn’t live without my books. There are several other special things I won’t be able to part with either.  Here are just a few of them: 

My animals (Marie is the cat; Samantha is the corgi). Of course, it’s a given that the animals will come with us.  Or if we travel abroad, the Crown Princess will care for them. Still, it will be difficult to leave them even temporarily.

My office is my sanctuary. I love going to work every day, and it’s a pleasure spending a lot of time in here. I have a huge glass-top desk. It’s not only great for working, but it also cleans up easily when I art journal on it. I have it sitting a third of the way out into the room, so that I face the door and my back is to the wall (my art table is in front of the desk along the left wall). I’ll probably have to downsize the desk when we move. But for now, here’s a picture of the left side and some of my favorite things I will definitely be able to take with me. That’s an inkwell with a feather pen that the Norwegian gave me for Christmas a few years ago; the “N” is a paperweight the Crown Princess gave me for Christmas; next to that is a “magic wand” Kathy Garbera gave me (and yes, it really works   );  behind that are two tea cups my good friend Mimi gave me; that’s a picture of the Norwegian and me in Paris; the smaller photo is me with the Crown Princess many moons ago, back in my auburn-hair days); that’s my prized Eiffel tower lamp and on it is a magnet of Berthe Morisot that Kathy G. sent me from London and a small beaded change purse that I found in an antique shop and couldn’t live without.

I have an art table in a corner of my office. The picture shows just the tip of the art supply iceberg. I have so much paint, paper and ephemera and stuff that might come in handy for a future art journal project. I don’t know how I will part with it. However, since the definition of  ephemera is transitory written or printed matter not meant to be retained or preserved, maybe that’s all the more reason I need to let it go…in due time. I mean, not tomorrow… or even next year… But I do need to think of what items I should put in a portable art journal kit.

Here are a few more of my favorite things that I will take with me:

Crown Princess made this for me for Mother’s Day. I wouldn’t part with it for anything.

This is a little tray of candles shaped like sweets. They are so pretty and absolutely calorie free.  

I love the double heart ornament that hangs from the ceiling fan in my office.

The Norwegian gave me these whimsical pens years ago. I’m not even sure they write anymore. Still, I keep them on a shelf in my office.

Stepping outside my office, into our backyard, we’ve planted a fabulous little herb garden. I’m so spoiled by the fresh herbs; I’ll have to buy potted ones since I won’t be able to take the garden with me when we go.

Finally, there’s my Don Juan rose bush. The Norwegian gave it to me for Mother’s Day several years ago. It’s in a large planter. So, we were actually able to bring it with us when we moved into this house five years ago. We’ll take it with us when we move again.

What do you have that would be difficult to give up?

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Be sure to check out CELEBRATION’S BRIDE, which will be available June 18. It’s book four of my Celebrations, Inc. series from Harlequin Special Edition.

When I was about 24, I worked at a small museum in a very posh Connecticut town. Think of every cliché that comes to mind about my little state. Yes. Exactly. Historic white clapboard houses, elegant gardens, heirloom roses and three yacht clubs. Everyone seemed to be white and over fifty in this town, and people wore (and wear) whale-print pants and polo shirts and drove aging Mercedes sedans, or, if they were experiencing a midlife crisis, a new Mercedes convertible. The town had a wonderful shipbuilding history and strict zoning laws in the downtown, so it was as charming (and snooty, yes) as a place could be.

Meanwhile, I was earning about $17,000 a year, just about enough to cover my rent in New Haven (I lived over a pizza parlor…heaven), but not a lot more. It was strange to have this sweet job at the museum, where I was in charge of PR and volunteer wrangling, schmoozed with the press, went to fundraising parties (to set up the chairs) and cleaned the bathrooms. I loved it. But even more, I loved the town.

I was fascinated by the wealth, I’ll be honest, and I was obsessed with the houses, those elegant domiciles on Main Street and River Road. McMansions, please! They didn’t allow McMansions, at least not in the historic district. No, these were old Federals and Greek Revivals. Sea captains’ houses with widow’s walks and shutters.

I wanted to live there so bad!

Clearly, I wasn’t going to be able to afford to buy a home there. I figured I’d have to marry an heir.

Easier said than done. First of all, it was hard to find someone in their 40s, let alone 20s or 30s. And secondly, it was one of those towns where an heir wouldn’t date “the help,” as I was referred to by an older gentleman one time. Even if I’d gone to a nice college and had a horsie growing up, I didn’t have the card required, if you know what I mean.

But one day, as I was walking down the street, coveting real estate, I saw an older woman pushing a baby carriage down the walk of a particularly beautiful home. Since I love kids, I stopped to admire the little redheaded infant within. “She’s beautiful,” I said, and the lady burst into tears. She was the paternal grandmother, she told me, and the baby’s mother had died in childbirth. Did I know of any nannies?

It was clear that I was destined to become a romance writer, because before the words left her mouth, I had myself married to her son and was the adoring stepmother of the redheaded baby. Finally! A way to live in this town, and, more specifically, this house. Plus, I’d have a nice husband (who drove a Mercedes, I noted) and a beautiful child. I offered my babysitting services and told the lady I worked at the museum down the street.

Well, I babysat once. The father was very nice. I cried a little after he left me with the baby, because his situation was so sad, and the little baby would never know her mom. He came back…I seem to recall he went to a support group for people who’d lost their spouses young…and overpaid me. I never heard from him again.

But sometimes, I go back to that little town to stroll down the street and show the kids where I worked. I pass his house and hope that dad found someone wonderful, and that the little girl, who’d be in her 20s now, had a wonderful childhood. I hope she loved living in that beautiful house, and never grew tired of looking out at the water and hearing the birds sing in the lilacs.

What about you, gang? Did you ever have that kind of romance-novel fantasy based on something that happened in real life? The cute carpenter who fixed your porch after your husband left? The nice cop who didn’t give you a ticket?

Congratulations Michelle Fidler! You are the winner of the $10 gift card from Monday’s Welcome to Kathleen O’Brien post. Please contact me through my website NancyRobardsThompson.com and let me know if you’d prefer an Amazon or B&N gift card and which email address I should send it to. Thanks to all who posted.

Congratulations, Sarah!  I sent you a private email on how to contact Crystal to get your prize.

Thanks to everyone who made our guest feel so welcome.

Thanks to everyone who shared their surprise movie/TV finds! Marcy Shuler is the winner of my Bare trilogy! Please email me at kathy @katherinegarbera.com with your snail mail address.

Thank you so much to everyone in the Jaunty Quills community who stopped by Saturday two weeks ago to help us raise money for the American Red Cross to donate to the efforts in Moore, Oklahoma. We enjoyed hearing about all the fictional worlds you love to visit in books, on television and at the movies. We reached 109 comments which is fabulous.  A donation of $300 ($150 + a corporate matching donation) has been made in the name of the Sisterhood of the Jaunty Quills which represents all of us.