We’re all readers here at the Jaunty Quills and I thought it might be fun to geek out today and chat about some books we’ve read recently. So answer the following questions and let’s chat. I’ll pick two commenters to win a copy of my novella, Her Gentleman Thief.

What’s the best book you’ve read recently? For me, it would have to be our own JQ, Kristan Higgins, Catch of the Day. It was just delightful with a heroine I could relate to (in so many ways) and a hero I wanted to spend a lot of alone time with….

What’s your favorite book series? Is it stupid for me to comment that this is a hard question? Don’t answer that. I can’t not mention Harry Potter or the Hunger Games, but I’m going to disqualify those and make myself pick a romance series, I’d have to say it’s a toss up between JD Robb’s In Death series and Suzanne Enoch’s Lessons in Love.

What does a book have to have to make it on your keeper shelf? I have to not only love the book and the story, but both characters. There have been plenty of books I’ve read where I’ve really loved either the hero or the heroine but not both, but to be a keeper, it’s got to be 100% love fest.

What’s the saddest book you’ve read? I don’t generally pick sad books because I don’t like to deal with much angst when it comes to my reading material, I remember I read a book (many years ago) called The Marriage Bed by Stephanie Mittman and I sobbed through the whole book.

Who is your go-to author when you need to fall into a book and you know they won’t fail to satisfy you with a great story? Suzanne Enoch or JD Robb

So how about you? Let’s talk books and you might win a free one for yourself!

I knew I would cry when I saw the film version of Les Miserables. I wept at the play when I saw it in London. I cry half the time I listen to the soundtrack.

What I didn’t expect was to be moved beyond the sad stories of Fantine and Eponine and Jean Valjean. I didn’t expect for Victor Hugo’s theme to hit home.

Sometimes I think classic literature is wasted on the young. I’m a former high school English teacher, so I have led many young students through the perils of Shakespeare, Dickens, and their kin. I read the same books when I was in school, and what I found was that I appreciated and understood them so much better when I read them as an adult.

This is the way it was for Les Miserables as well. I read it in high school or as an undergrad in college, and I didn’t get it. I mean, I got it enough to write an essay about it. I got an A too, but I might owe that more to my writing ability than my insights. To me, the book was about a guy imprisoned for no good reason and the cop who seems to have nothing better to do than harass him.

But after I saw the movie a few weeks ago, I re-read the book, and I saw Hugo’s novel differently. It wasn’t a story about a convict. It was a story about revolution. Not the student revolution because those guys have it all wrong. The revolution was one of kindness and love. What really made a difference in the life of Jean Valjean, and subsequently Cosette and Marius and even Eponine, was the kindness shown to Valjean by that bishop. One man’s magnanimous gesture inspired another man to do the same for others.

I wish I had understood that as a young adult. I understand it now, and I often write about the poor and miserable (as much as one really can in a romance novel). In my forthcoming If You Give a Rake a Ruby, the heroine is from the slums of London and she would have had a life very much like the poor wretched souls on the streets of Hugo’s Paris.

Were there any novels you read as a young adult that you re-read later and experienced differently? Do you think forcing high school kids to read the classics turns them off to reading in general?

As a special treat today, I asked some of the Quills about their most memorable Valentine’s Days. Here’s what they said:

Shana: When I was in high school, there was one Valentine’s Day that I didn’t have a boyfriend, and I felt so sorry for myself. I moped all day, didn’t get out of my pajamas, and didn’t put any make-up on or fix my hair. This was in the days of lots of make-up and big hair. My mom kept telling me to get dressed, but I was having a pity party. What I didn’t know was that a guy I’d dated a few times had called her and asked if it was okay if he stopped over and surprised me with flowers. He showed up, and I was so embarrassed. It was actually very sweet of him to bring me flowers but being all of sixteen I was too worried about how I looked to be as excited as I should have been.

Nancy: I don’t know that I can single out one most romantic Valentine’s Day in particular. That’s because The Chef is a master at making all Valentine’s Days special and romantic. He never forgets and always brings me a dozen red roses, champagne and the perfect card. Usually, he gives me chocolates, depending on how loudly I’ve proclaimed I’m on a diet. Still, calorie counting or not, there’s always a fabulous meal: lobster or filet with cognac peppercorn sauce. Or Lobster AND filet with cognac peppercorn sauce…. One of the best touches is that he also gives our daughter flowers-a bouquet of pink carnations. There’s something extra romantic in him not only being a great husband, but also being such a wonderful father.

Kristan: My first Valentine’s Day out of college, I was alone in a new city, worked for poverty wages and didn’t have too many friends. Boo hoo! Valentine’s Day with a guy? As probable as running into a Saudi prince at the pizza place on the corner. Imagine my surprise when a beautiful bouquet of flowers was delivered to work! “From your secret admirer,” the card said. I called my dad and thanked him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but I could tell he was smiling. He died that same year. I think of him every day, but I always smile on Valentine’s Day, remembering how dear old Dad made sure I got flowers from someone who loved me a whole heck of a lot.

Kathy: One of my favorite Valentine’s days was when my kids were about 8 and 13 and they got totally into the holiday picking out stuffed animals and chocolates for each other and my husband and I.  They even made Valentine’s for us from our dog.  It was such a fun time for us all.

Mia: This Valentine date was the first time I’d gone out with this red-headed guy I knew from church and it promised to be a lovely one. He took me to a dance at the Surf Ballroom, a place that epitomized romance in my little corner of the upper midwest. And I did enjoy the evening of dancing, but then he ran out of gas (Does anybody ever really do that?) on the way home (which was about 20 miles away). He had to hike back into town for a can of gas while I froze my tootsies in the cold car (February in Northern Iowa is no joke!) To make matters worse, we were cutting things close on my curfew. I’m a railroader’s daughter. At my house, not being on time was regarded as only slightly less heinous than becoming pregnant out of wedlock! I knew I was going to catch it when I got home.

However, my date was not in a hurry to let me out of the car once we got in my driveway. I managed to pull out of his grasp, but he tailed me to the pool of yellow light at my back door and forced a kiss on me. It was our first date and I really didn’t want to kiss him. I wanted to get inside so I could explain to my folks that it was not my fault I was seriously late. I finally told the guy I didn’t think things were going to work out between us and made a break for it. Then he stalked me for the next six months and made creepy phone calls.  So the moral of the story is…beware of red headed men!

Cindy: Worst Valentine’s Day? Most memorable Valentine’s Day? I racked my brains but couldn’t come up with anything. My husband and I have been together since high school. We’re the kind of couple who goes out the weekend before the big day, so we don’t have to fight the crowds. We buy the boxes of heart-shaped Valentine’s Day candy after the big day (when it hits 75% off  )because it’s a better deal. I’d call us practical. You might call us boring. But we’ve been together a
long time and hey, it works for us!

Robyn: Valentine’s Day is one of those I’ve had a love/hate relationship with. As a little girl, I loved it because my Daddy would give me sweet cards and my own (small) heart-shaped box of chocolates. I loved that. But with a series of disappointments through high school and college, I pretty much ignored the holiday for a few years. Then I met The Professor. Our first Valentine’s Day together was actually a month before we got married. I was trying to eat healthily so that I could fit into my wedding dress so he went to a gourmet chocolate shop here and bought me sugar-free candies. I thought that was so sweet and thoughtful. Every year he brings me a sweet card (that I know he spend so much time trying to find the perfect one) and roses. I know that might seem too traditional and not creative, but I love it!

Margo: The absolute best Valentine’s Day gift was from my mom. Our kids were about 2, 4 and 6, and Mom called and said she would take the kids overnight if we wanted to make reservations somewhere. Omg, it was hard to know what to do! Stay home and enjoy the peace and quiet? Go to a Red Wings hockey game, drink some beer and go home? (not)  When it came down to it, we went to a play, had a late, romantic dinner, and then stayed the night at the Ritz Hotel. In those days when it was non-stop kid stuff, that night out was absolutely heaven!

Do you have a Valentine’s Day memory that stands out? Tell us, and we’ll pick three random participants who will each receive a copy of one of our books. Come on – what was your most memorable (good or bad) Valentine’s Day?

So the other night The Professor and I were in bed (get your heads out of the gutter, this isn’t *that* kind of blog) and he says to me, “we need a hobby.” Now before we had kids we went to movies. A lot. It was pretty much out entire courtship. Lots and lots of movies, which was great because it gave us stuff to talk about while we were getting to know each other and well, we learned about each other too based on the movies we saw, liked, didn’t like. Flash forward to now, post children and well, we might get to the theatre every other month, if that. And well, since we don’t get a lot of conversation time with just the two of us, then sitting quietly while watching a movie takes up what could be valuable chatting time.

So back to our conversation. I suggest Scrabble. We used to play a lot. We enjoy it and we’re good opponents for one another. And it works for him because his favorite writer is CS Lewis and we heard once that Lewis and his wife used to play Scrabble together – of course they played where any language was game. The Professor and I only play in English though we aspire. But we haven’t played in a while.

So we discuss other options…gardening? No, I’m not really into digging in the dirt, it just doesn’t work for me. There are worms. Eww! Cooking together? I’d love to have him help more, but he’s not really that skilled in the kitchen and frankly right now I’ve got a pretty sweet deal – I cook, he cleans the kitchen. So that really takes that off the table. We could make model cars. No, I’m not thinking either one of us would be good at that.

Then on a silly whim I say, “well, we could always become amateur sleuths.” He rolls over with a big smile, “that’s it!”

We watch a little TV, I toss out a few more suggestions: we love museums but we don’t really live near very many, a poker group but we don’t have many friends who live close enough, and the list went on. He finally said, “nothings as good as the sleuthing idea…”

So there you have it, The Professor and I are not amateur sleuths. So far we don’t have any cases, but I’m sure any day now they’ll start rolling in. Hey, we’re clever people.

Okay so what kinds of things do you and your spouse enjoy doing together? And keep it clean, people!

My guest today is author Jennifer Bernard, who writes for Avon and Avon Impulse, and she’s got a sizzling Fireman series going on these days. Here’s the blurb to her latest book…

There’s a hardnosed new training officer in town, and that’s bad news for the Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel…

 But GREAT news for firefighter Sabina Jones…maybe.

The toughest captain on the East Coast, single father Rick Roman has come thousands of miles to San Gabriel to put an end to the “Bachelor Firemen” media hype. But when a stunning woman he nearly hooked up with in Reno turns out to be a firefighter from his new station, Roman realizes it’s going to be tough keeping the tabloids at bay.

But there’s even more Sabina isn’t telling him. Before dedicating her life to battling blazes, Sabina led a very different life, one that made her famous. The last thing she wants is to have her secret exposed. The papers, bloggers, and TV gossips will have a field day with that—especially when they sense the obvious sexual heat between Sabina and Chief Roman, who’s torn between firing her…and falling in love with her!

Thanks so much to the Jaunties for inviting me to Bring a Friend Friday! My topic today is very close to my heart: Men Who Cook. On our first date, my future-husband cooked for me. He brought over a salmon he had caught that very day and cleaned it in the backyard. Then he covered the filets with a crust of pine nuts, salt and oregano and fried them in olive oil.

Is it any surprise I was a goner?

But if I thought I was in for a lovely life of delicious meals cooked nightly for me by my wonderful new husband, I was a little off. I do most of the
cooking, though he still handles the salmon. I’m not complaining, just explaining why the hero of my latest book, SEX AND THE SINGLE FIREMAN, loves to cook. If I can’t live it, I’ll write about it! Rick Roman is a big, tall, strong, powerful, commanding alpha-type Battalion Chief from Brooklyn, New York, and he knows his way around a veal piccatta. Is it a stretch to think he knows his way around other activities pleasing to the senses? Absolutely not.

Is it a stretch that a fire chief would be an expert cook? Definitely not! Firefighters rotate cooking duties at the firehouse. The meals I’ve eaten at firehouses aren’t always high-end gourmet, but they’re tasty and filling and usually cooked from scratch. When researching this book, I hunted around online and found some fantastic firehouse cookbooks. These guys really know what they’re talking about! They’re used to cooking for big groups and satisfying the appetites of active men and women. And when the cookbook cover looks like this, how can you complain?

http://www.bramptonfirefighter.com/contact.html
Scanning the various cookbooks, firefighters like meat, they like things spicy, they like primal pleasures like Buffalo wings and pecan pie. But that’s not always the case. A firefighter in Austin, Texas put his entire firehouse on a vegan weight-loss, health-improvement plan and wrote a book about it. The Engine 2 diet would please the most demanding health nut.

But my hero, Chief Roman, is no health nut. He’s more of a sensualist — a lover of Greek olives, a seeker of fresh-baked baguettes, a passionate advocate of the arrabbiata sauce. A single father, he does all the cooking for his thirteen-year old son. He eventually wins the heart of Sabina Jones with, among other things, mushrooms sautéed in butter, folded into a perfect omelet, accompanied by Italian roast coffee and actual cream.

In fact – and I just realized this – in each of the books in the Bachelor Fireman of San Gabriel series so far, the hero at some point cooks a meal for
the heroine. So is there a little wish fulfillment going on here? Do I miss the magic of that first date with my husband? Okay, maybe a little, but the truth is, there’s nothing sexier to me than a guy who knows his way around a kitchen. A big, strong guy bending over a sauté pan on a hot stove? A hunky man presenting you with a delicious dish he concocted just for you?

Now that’s hot.

So… does your significant other like to cook? What’s his specialty? Leave me a comment and I’ll enter you to win a copy of HOT FOR FIREMAN (book 2), in which Ryan Blake cooks his special Thai Chicken Curry dish!

And if that’s not enough… How would you like a fireman from your hometown to appear in the next fireman book, HOW TO TAME A WILD FIREMAN? All you have to do is like my Facebook page or sign up for my newsletter to enter.

 

An Unexpected Guest

The Scottish Highlands. Christmas Eve 1690.

Isobel Kincaid did not know what she was going to do. Wee Rory was so very ill, and she was on her own, much as she’d been since that horrid day in June of 1689, when Ket MacGaurie had left Balcraig to join Viscount Dundee’s army in the rebellion against the new British king. Her heart still quaked, all these months later, when she thought of Ket lying dead on the battlefield at Killiecrankie.

She’d called him an arse and worse for leaving her, for leaving their clan to fight for a cause that was doomed to fail. Ach, aye – Isobel wanted King James back on the Scottish throne. Who didn’t? But had that cause been worth his life?

Ach, how she wished she could take back her angry words now, for they were the last Ket had heard from her. ’Twas just that she’d been so very frightened. He was the son of the MacGaurie chieftain, and a prime target for the royalist forces. She’d been terrified that he would be targeted by the enemy.

That she’d been right was of no comfort to her. None at all.

Her poor bairn would grow up without a father now, for there’d been no one like Ket, nor would there ever be another. Isobel had loved him with every fiber of her being. Even now – after more than a year – she could hardly believe he was gone.

And if missing Ket was not bad enough, being cast out and shunned by his mother – and the rest of the clan who followed her, of course – had broken what little piece of her heart had been left after the news of Ket’s demise. The woman even refused to recognize Rory as her grandson, when ’twas well known that Ket and Isobel had had eyes for no others before he’d gone to fight with Dundee.

Only Una MacGaurie denied it. She’d despised Isobel’s mother for being Laird MacGaurie’s first choice for a wife. And her animosity had not abated even when Isobel’s mother had chosen Angus Kincaid and married him instead. In subsequent years, Una’s rancor had extended to Isobel, refusing to accept her as Ket’s choice.

This was nearly the worst Christmas Isobel could remember. Last year, her grief over losing Ket had been raw and overwhelming. ’Twas only through her grandfather’s care and acceptance that she’d survived her pregnancy and moved past the utter devastation of Ket’s loss. This year she had Rory, at least. But Grandfather was gone.

The wind howled and whipped ’round the eaves of Isobel’s croft – the home she’d shared with her grandfather who’d succumbed to age and an assortment of ailments just before the harvest. Somehow, Isobel had gone on, bringing in their crops, and shoring up the cottage against their usual harsh winter. But now, with Rory ill, Isobel was loath to leave him alone, even to visit the privy.

But there was no more peat on the hearth. She needed to go out to the shed to get some more, before the storm got even worse.

She rocked her son in her arms until he drifted off to sleep, then placed him gently on his bed and covered him with a warm woolen blanket. He’d been restless, and Isobel knew he would not sleep for long. But at least his fever had abated and his color was better. She prayed he was on the mend. She quickly wrapped herself in her grandfather’s heavy plaid, pulled on some thick mittens and let herself outside.

The snow was a good many inches deeper than only a few hours before, when she’d ventured out the last time. Now, ’twas up to her knees, and still coming down in thick waves of cottony white. She could barely see the trees on the slopes above her, and couldn’t see the peaks across the valley.

Isobel filled her basket with as much peat as she could carry, but as she turned back toward the cottage, she saw what looked to be a shadowy figure in the distance. ’Twas not easy to make it out, but Isobel was sure the figure was not just a tree. She knew every inch of this land by heart, for she had lived there with her grandfather ever since… well, ever since Ket’s mother had cast her out of Balcraig and caused the clan to shun her.

Isobel could not bear to think of those days, when her own clan had turned its back upon her. ’Twas bad enough that Una MacGaurie had called her a liar and a whore, and refused to recognize her handfast marriage with Ket, the woman had turned her back upon her own bonny grandson.

Isobel put the past behind her and strained her eyes toward the figure in the distance. She decided it must be a man on horseback, though what he would be doing out in the high country during a blizzard was a mystery. Mayhap he’d been on his way to Balcraig and gotten lost in the storm.

Isobel was gripped by a moment of alarm, but as she looked closer, she could see that the rider was slumped over the horse’s neck. He was hurt, or possibly ill. Mayhap he was frostbit, for ’twas bitter cold.

She quickly let herself into the cottage and placed her basket on the hearth. She checked on Rory, and found him still sleeping, his breathing sounding far more normal than it had in days. Moving quietly, Isobel pulled her blanket off the bed and carried it outside.

The horse and man were closer now. ’Twas as though the horse sensed a place where it could shelter, and was coming for it, despite its rider’s inaction. Isobel trudged down the snow-covered trail toward the man, and when she reached him, she tossed the blanket over his shoulders. She went to his far side and pulled the heavy wool down over him, then took the horse’s lead.

The way uphill was a challenge in the wind and snow, and Isobel was worried that her nine month-old bairn would awaken and find himself alone. She moved as fast as she could and somehow managed to get them to the cottage where she helped the man slide down. He stayed on his feet, but just barely, leaning heavily upon Isobel for support.

She pushed open the door and let him in, and he staggered toward the fireplace. In half a second, he was lying down before it, shivering violently.

“I-I’ll be right back,” she said, a bit nervously.

She was reluctant to leave the stranger with Rory, but could not ignore her visitor’s horse. The man appeared to be no threat. At least, not now. She left the cottage and hastily led the beast into her shed where it nickered a greeting to her own gelding. Removing the saddle, she made sure their water was not wholly frozen, and put out some feed for both horses. Then she went back into the cottage.

The man had not moved. He lay huddled under the blanket on his side by the fire, still trembling with the cold.

Isobel tried to get a glimpse of his face, but he was heavily bearded and the blanket covered most of his head. She worked ’round him to add more peat to the fire, and then she heard him groan.

“I know you must be frozen to the bone,” she said. “I’ll heat some—“

“S-stay.” His hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

Isobel yanked it back. “I do not welcome your advance, sir, and if you persist, I will turn you out into the cold to fend for yourself.” Her grandfather’s muzzle loader was hanging over the bedstead and she could have it loaded and ready to fire before her frozen guest could rise to his feet.

“No, I…”

“You may stay here and thaw, but then you must be on your way. Balcraig is only a few miles north. You will find more hospitable lodgings there.”

Isobel took a cautious step back when the man pushed himself up. The blanket fell away from his head, and with trembling hands, he fumbled to cover one of his eyes with a circle of cloth that hung ’round his neck.

Or what was left of it.

Isobel did not recoil at the sight of the man’s scarred face. She’d seen many a clansman return from battle with terrible wounds – lost limbs, horrid scars, damaged or lost eyes.

Her visitor was scarred, too, and when he looked up at her with his one good eye, Isobel’s heart lurched and she dropped to her knees before him. No living man had eyes so very green or black lashes quite so long. No one but her own wee bairn.

“Ket?” she whispered, afraid even to think of the possibility. “Oh dear Lord. Ket?”

It could not be. Not when their clansmen had come home from Killiecrankie, vividly recounting his mortal injuries and death on the field of battle. She clutched her chest where her heart tattooed impossibly hard and fast. Her throat thickened almost painfully.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “I did’na think you would know me, lass.”

She let out a sob and reached for him.

He opened the blanket and pulled her into his arms. “Belle.”

She wept against his chest. “How?” She felt her tears running into his plaid, but did naught to stanch them. She thought never to hear anyone call her Belle again. “They said you were killed at Killiecrankie.”

He gave a jerky nod, still shivering from the cold. “I was w-wounded. Badly. B-but someone found me and took me to a surgeon. They said I was close to death for weeks—”

“Oh Ket!”

“When I came to, I could’na remember my own name.”

Isobel cupped his beloved face in her hands and kissed him, enveloping him in the heat of her body. He drew her closer still, and kissed her with the kind of passion she remembered, though it seemed an eternity since she’d felt it.

She pulled back a wee bit, just to look at him, touching his cheeks, his chin, his mouth. ’Twas all too much to take in. “Oh Ket, I missed you so.”

“Aye, lass,” he said. “And I you. I’d hoped to g-get back to you by Ch-Christmas. Did I m-make it?”

“Oh aye, Ket. You’ve made this the best Christmas of my life.”

He frowned. “But what are you doing up here in your grandfather’s croft? Why are you not in Balcraig?”

None of that mattered now. Ket was home, and that was all Isobel cared about. “We’ll speak of that later, love,” she said. “We’ll warm you, and then there’s someone I want you to meet.”

 

If you enjoyed that, you might also like The Warrior Laird, my most recent book from Avon.
I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Margo Maguire 

*This was originally posted as part of the An Historical Christmas Eve blog event on Not Another Romance Blog*

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, okay, it was a dark night, as most nights are. I was oh, maybe eleven or twelve years old. All of a sudden, the door to my bedroom opened, and my mother was there. “Kristan? Kristan? It’s time we had the talk.”

“But I’m dreaming about unicorns,” I may have mumbled.

“Too bad.” And there, in the pitch dark, Mother perched at the edge of my bed and informed me in as fast and clinical a way as possible, where babies came from. In a previous blog, I may have mentioned that I was a late bloomer, only receiving my first kiss just two (fine! three!) short years after I got my license. But apparently, I’d made a comment to an aunt about God sending them another baby and how nice it was. I know I was happy—another cousin to play with and command! Good old God! And hey, who was really to blame with my blissfully naïve ignorance? Mom was the one who dragged us all to church every week. God did everything, right?

Well. Not everything, apparently. In one, long run-on sentence that seemed too horrific to be true, Mother Mine whipped out words that I’d previously only seen scrawled on the seats of the school bus. I listened in utter silence and shock until she ran out of breath. Then there was only the sound of the wind.

After a few minutes, I spoke. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m going to bed,” she said. “Good talk.” Then she left me to my doomed night.

Life thereafter was quite gross. First of all…my parents! Oh, the humanity! How could I ever look at them again? There were three of us, so three times, that utterly disgusting act had occurred! Boy, they really must have loved kids to go through such ickiness. Then the horror mushroomed. My grandparents had nine children. My youngest uncle was just about the same age as I was, so that meant…!!! And what about all those cousins of mine? Apparently they too had started out in such a terribly undignified fashion! Why hadn’t anyone ever adopted a baby in our family if this was what they had to go through to become parents?

It wasn’t until I starting reading romance novels that I realized there were reasons other than the biological imperative to, um…you know. Even so, it took me quite a while to be able to read one of those scenes without dying a little.

Years and years later, my own beloved Princess Daughter asked me to confirm a rumor told to her at school about where babies came from. I took pride in the fact that I could tell her with the lights on. Her reaction: “Mommy, no offense, but I don’t care how in love you are. That’s disgusting.” (She is still currently planning to adopt all her children.)

So where were you when you learned the facts of life? And if you’re a parent, how’d you do telling your own kids?

 

If you’ve been reading my books for any length of time (especially my most recent titles) you probably know that I love my historical romance with a little bit of mystery, adventure and suspense thrown in. I don’t think I started out intending to write books like that, per se, I think it just kind of happened. Partly because I like to read books that have a lot going on in the background. I think it’s probably because I cut my teeth on Amanda Quick and Johanna Lindsey and they have lots of adventure/mystery type subplots going on while the hero and heroine fall in love. Amanda Quick’s step back covers even made it perfectly clear you were in for more than a “simple” romance as they had pictures of several scenes from the book, sword fights, embraces, etc. I loved them.

That being said I also really love just a good solid romance where you’ve mostly got the hero and heroine, maybe some secondary characters, but mostly it’s just them falling in love. There’s something so comforting about settling in with a book and falling in love right along with the characters.

The book I finished not too long ago (that I’m currently shopping) is the first in a trilogy that’s an historical romantic suspense series. It’s dark and gritty and packed full of danger and passion. It was exhausting to write and a huge challenge, but I’m really hoping it finds a home because I think it’s quite likely the best thing I’ve ever written. BUT two weeks ago I started working on a new book. It’s still a historical, but it’s a little shorter than my other books and there aren’t any dangerous subplots, no adventures, no mysteries, no quests, its just the hero and heroine, characters around them, but mostly just them. And you know what, I’m having a ball. Literally, at times, because there are ball scenes with dancing and loads of snappy dialogue. It’s so refreshing to write something without worrying where the villain is and whether or not I need to be setting a booby trap.

So how about you? How do you like your romance? Straight up or with a side of mystery or suspense or even some paranormal woo-woo?

*side note* I’m on round 2 of antibiotics with some steroids and my brain is really fuzzy so if this blog doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, I blame it on the drugs.

The Jaunty Quills are thrilled to welcome Susan Crosby to the sisterhood today. She and I are chatting about her new book, FORTUNE’S HERO, the fourth book in the latest Harlequin Special Edition series,  Fortunes of Texas – Whirlwind Romance.

Nancy Robards Thompson: Welcome, Susan! Please tell us about your latest book.

 

Susan Crosby: FORTUNE’S HERO has an older hero and younger heroine who are such complete opposites you’d never think they could end up with a happily ever after.  Garrett Stone rescues Victoria Fortune after she’s crushed in the aftermath of a tornado, then he disappears into thin air.  Victoria never gets to thank him, so a few months later she goes in search of her unsung hero.  Garrett thinks he’s perfectly content with his life.  He and the many stray animals who come or are brought to him on his ranch are content together.  They don’t need a woman around.  But even his dogs start to favor the lively Victoria, and Garrett can’t fight his feelings forever.

 

NRT: What life lessons do the hero and heroine of FORTUNE’S HERO learn before they earn their happily ever after?

 

SC: Victoria learns about true passion, not just for the man she comes to love but for a particular, satisfying kind of work in a world vastly different from what she’s known all her life.  Garrett learns he can count on another person.  This is huge for him.

 

NRT: Why will readers enjoy this story?

 

SC: Garrett is an old-fashioned cowboy, a modern day knight in shining armor—and he wants no gratitude from the woman whose life he saved.  How Victoria wriggles her way into his life leaves him baffled, amused and ultimately deeply in love.

 

NRT: That sounds fabulous, Susan! I can see why readers will love it, but what will they enjoy the Fortunes of Texas series as a whole?

 

SC: I personally love the Fortunes, the whole continuity of family and all it entails—support, criticism and a love you can count on, no matter what–unconditional but also honest.

 

NRT: They sound like quite a bunch!  On another note, what’s a typical writing day like for you?

 

SC:  I start early in the day because I’m a morning person.  I’m generally done by 2:00, which gives me time for other things.  I begin by reading what I wrote the day before and making changes, if necessary, then move into new material.  When I stop, I almost always write a few sentences about what happens next so that I have a place to start the next day.  It’s rare for me to work on Saturday, and never on Sunday.

 

NRT: What was your path to becoming a romance writer?

 

SC: I read THE FLAME AND THE FLOWER by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss in my late 20s.  That fueled the fire for me.  I wrote a few historical romances just for fun, then abandoned that to return to college in my 30s.  After an 8-year pursuit of a bachelors degree in English, as well as raising a family, I got serious about writing for publication.  By then I was more interested in writing contemporary romance.  I went to book signings and talked to authors.  I read like crazy.  Then I sold the 2nd book I wrote—because I’d done so much preparation in advance, I felt.

 

NRT: What advice do you have for aspiring romance writers?

 

SC:  Writing is a learned skill.  Yes, you have to be a good storyteller, first and foremost, but the mechanics of writing is a skill you develop.  I had no idea was conflict was when I started.  I thought it meant fighting, and I didn’t like fighting.  Then I learned that conflict drives the whole story.  What is keeping this couple apart now?  More important, what could keep them apart forever?  How those conflicts get resolved in a believable way is the biggest challenge.

FORTUNE’S HERO is my 36th book, and my fourth Fortune continuity.  I love revisiting the Fortune family as much as I love creating my own fictional families.

Award-winning, nationally ranked #1 bestselling author Susan Crosby began writing in 1992 and made her first sale a year and a half later to Silhouette Books, a division of Harlequin Books.  She was selected as their Premiere Author, which is their “rising star,” for Silhouette Desire for her first novel, The Mating Game, released in 1994.

She has since published 35 more novels, including the current FORTUNE’S HERO for Harlequin Special Edition.

Susan has made the USA Today and Borders best-seller lists, and has been nominated for or won every major romance award, including having one of her books, His Seductive Revenge, named by Romantic Times magazine to their Top 400 Romance Novels of the past 2 decades, a list culled from 25,000 books.

Shana: Hi, Jaunty Readers. I know what you’re thinking. Why do you keep allowing Jaunty to interview you when he constantly interrupts and always focuses the interview on himself? It’s simple, really. He threatens me.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: Shana! That is not true. I never threatened you.

Shana: Jaunty, you said you’d post covers of The Rogue Pirate’s Bride you Photoshopped with your face over my hero’s all over the internet, including my Facebook page.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: That wasn’t a threat. I thought you wanted me to put my face on their cover as a way of apologizing for not writing a book with me in it yet.

Shana: Jaunty, really? Are we back to that again? Can’t we just talk about my new book?

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: It’s always about you and your books, isn’t it, Shana? What about me?

Shana: Have you written a book?

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: Um… So, Shana, tell us about your new book, The Rogue Porcupine’s Bride.

Shana: It’s The Rogue Pirate’s Bride, Jaunty, and do you know, I think you and Bastien, my hero, would get along. He’s a pirate, but he insists on calling himself a privateer. Neither of you live in reality.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: I live in reality!

Shana: Jaunty, your Facebook page says you’re a romance cover model. Please.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: It could happen, but I wouldn’t want to pose for your book cover. The female model is holding a sword.

Shana: That’s because Raeven is every bit as tough as Bastien. In fact, in chapter one, she challenges him to a swordfight.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: Does she win?

Shana: Jaunty, I thought you said you read the book.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: I might have just skipped to the good parts. And, might I add, there are some very steamy good parts.

Shana: Did you read any of the sea battle scenes? I had to do a lot of research for those.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: Do you want me to have nightmares? I’m a lover, not a fighter. There is one thing I’m confused about. Is this book the third in your Sons of the Revolution series? I thought it was titled The Making of a Rogue.

Shana: Yes, it is the third in that series. The first two are The Making of a Duchess and The Making of a Gentleman. But Bastien’s book can be read independently. And it was originally titled The Making of a Rogue. It was even titled Once a Rogue and, very briefly, The Dread Pirate’s Bride. But now it’s The Rogue Pirate’s Bride. Nothing else changed. Only the title and cover.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: I suppose now you want me to end by telling everyone more about where to find you.

Shana: I’ll do it, Jaunty. Check out my website for an excerpt from The Rogue Pirate’s Bride  which officially comes out tomorrow, and my blog tour schedule. I’ll be blogging everywhere and giving away books at each stop. In fact, I’ll give away two copies of The Rogue Pirate’s Bride here! Just comment below.

Jaunty P. Quills, Porcupine Extraordinaire: Yes, please comment. Tell Shana why she should include a porcupine in her books or give her a romantic title with the word porcupine in it.