
Happy Friday and Happy 2012! I know it’s the middle of the month already (already?!? *sigh* Time just flies by faster the more brain cells my children kill…
), but this is my very first post of 2012, and I am thrilled to see what this year holds. I’ll get to the reason for the post title in a moment, but for now, I’d like to list a few reasons why 2012 is already off to a great start for my family.
1) SuperGirl (my 2 year old) has officially started potty training. Although terrified of the process (truly, there seems to be nothing as horrifying as this in our parenting experience so far), my husband and I started with her after the first of the year. I am excited and *relieved* to report that after a few horrifying incidents (see, we knew it would be bad, although I must say these incidents DID happen on my husband’s watch
), it looks like it’s working. I’m keeping my fingers crossed still, though.
2) My husband is chasing after his dreams. Not only does he plan to publish his first upper middle grade novel at the end of the month under his pseudonym Lukas Holmes (seriously, the book rocks, and I’m not just saying that because I’m his wife. Well, maybe I am a little bit…but it still rocks
), he also has decided to start performing as a stand-up comedian. If you’ve read any of his guest interviews with me this past year on various blogs, you know that this is ideal for him, as he’s one of the funniest people I know. As much as I love what I do, it’s a wonderful feeling to see my significant other having the chance to do what he loves to do, too.
3) WonderGirl (my 1 year old) is still not sleeping through the night. Okay, I have to admit, this isn’t something I like saying. I’d *prefer* for the sake of my sanity to be able to say that she sleeps through the night every night, especially since SuperGirl began sleeping through the night when she was 7 months old. But I’m choosing instead to say that this is a wonderful thing because, the truth is, I love that she still needs me. It seems like the time with SuperGirl has gone by really fast, and knowing this makes me treasure the very early years with WonderGirl even more. (And can you really complain when all she wants to do is snuggle? It melts my heart.)
And now for the reason of this post’s title.
If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you probably already know this, but for those of you who haven’t heard, I’ve decided to change my name to Elise Rome in celebration of the new journey I’ll embark on this year with self-publishing.Very soon, the name on the Jaunty Quills website will change from Ashley March to Elise Rome–but I promise, it will still be me! =)
You probably know a lot of authors who have changed their name over the course of their writing careers, most often because they switch genres or publishers. While I still intend to write Victorian romances (they’ll always be my first love), I also intend to explore other historical periods in the coming years, such as the 1920s and the Elizabethan era, World War II and the medieval ages…and more. And I even have ideas for contemporary novels rolling around in my head, too.
For now, though, I’m looking forward to publishing a new Victorian series under my new Elise Rome name at the end of January/beginning of February (I’ll be sure to keep you posted with a specific date!). The UNMASKED series is about four women who discover their independence by becoming owners of a gaming hell after the previous owner dies and leaves the establishment to his lover (Rachel, his lover, is the heroine of the second full-length book). They create an exclusive environment where only people who receive an invitation may enter the hell, and to protect their identities and add to the mystery of the place, the women all wear masks. The series launches with THE SINNING HOUR, a novella featuring Miranda, the hell’s maid, and Simon Astley, her former employer–whom you may recognize as the portraitist who painted Charlotte’s nudes in my Ashley March title, SEDUCING THE DUCHESS. I’m so excited about this series. I’ve always wanted to write about a gaming hell, and here I also I get to explore characters of different classes along with the changing roles of women in the Victorian era.
Here is a sneak peek at Simon Astley, the hero of THE SINNING HOUR.
***
Simon lifted a brow at the sight of yet another door—the seventh so far. Unlike the others, this one was covered in green baize, a relief to the previous monotony of uninspiring brown wood.
To any other man, this change might have signaled that something interesting was soon to come. Another man might have leaned forward, anticipating his entrance—at last!—into the secret rooms within. Yet, since Simon was unreasonably perverse, he neither leaned forward nor encouraged himself to care what lay ahead; instead, he allowed the color of the door to summon thoughts of her.
He tried to recall her eyes, the emerald green of the baize taunting his powers of recollection. Had they been jewel bright like this, or a softer, darker moss? For a moment she wavered before him, her lashes thickly fringed, her gaze wary as he attempted to coax her from her shyness. Her irises—
Simon blinked, dismissing the vision. Enough. Attempting to remember her clearly had become something akin to self-flagellation, and he’d never been one to enjoy the cutting whips of his conscience.
His giant of an escort knocked against a grate inlaid within the baize, and soon a different pair of eyes peered through at Simon.
“It’s the artist. Let him in.”
At the mildly disgusted way in which his escort said artist, Simon’s other brow lifted. He waited wordlessly as the seventh door swung open to reveal— Ah, the inside of the hell. At last. Then again, he supposed eight doors would have been too much.
With the barest trace of a smile–to annoy the guards, not to show his amusement–Simon acknowledged the summary of directions from his escort, then continued forward on his own.
The gaming hell was much as he’d expected and yet surprising all the same. He climbed the grand staircase to the first floor, studying the mark of wealth and privilege on each side. Ivory silk hung on the walls, adorned with gold flecks and glinting beneath the heavy crystal chandeliers. Plush carpet sprawled underfoot, the soft, welcoming color of a woman’s bare thigh. Smoothing his hand along the stair banister, he admired the gleaming mahogany, the polished slide of it sensuous beneath his palm. Velvet curtains were drawn at the windows, blocking out the harsh invasion of the afternoon sun. At night he presumed they guarded against envious gazes, maintaining the hell’s reputation of exclusivity while keeping safe the identities of those fortunate enough to have been invited inside.
It was this, perhaps, which roused his curiosity. Finally stepping onto the floor of the gaming area, he searched for something magnificent, a clue as to why the proprietors felt confident enough to demand a hundred pound fee simply for entrance into the establishment. A reason why the most coveted invitations in all of London for the past month came not from the Queen or the Duchess of Sayers’ pen, but rather from 114 Jermyn Street.
He glanced at the hazard table and roulette wheel. The balcony to his right and the ceiling above. The building carried the hushed air of a museum, silent and provocative with secrets, concealing a spectacular history of things which had gone before. He wasn’t a man who usually cared to wager recklessly on a spin of the wheel, but even he felt a tug of promise as he surveyed the room, a whisper of possibility for winnings beyond imagination.
A man could begin anew with such a fortune. Doubtless he could also acquire a new sort of morality, something which wouldn’t cause him to surrender to tireless nudges of nobility and honor.
Alas, he hadn’t received an invitation to play. He was here to sketch.
Following the guard’s directions, Simon ducked inside an alcove set into the right corner of the room and climbed up the private stairs. He paused outside the owners’ suite and listened, his satchel of paper and instruments tucked loosely beneath his arm.
He’d heard the rumors, of course. Most everyone in Mayfair was privy to the stories of those sated with victory and broken by loss, of the men who had passed through the hell’s doors and returned to regale those less fortunate. Even so, and even though the notes Simon had received were written in a decidedly feminine script, he’d had his doubts.
But the voices and shouts of laughter echoing from within the room were obviously female. Yes, they could belong to the proprietors’ mistresses or hired doxies. Or the rumors could be true. The gaming hell could actually be owned by a group of women, masked and mysterious, beautiful and wickedly remote. It was impossible. Inconceivable. And also…rather delightful.
Simon rapped against the door and waited.
***
Hope you enjoyed the excerpt!
One of the things I’m most looking forward to in writing as Elise Rome is being able to continue to write Victorian romances as well as romances in other historical periods. If you could ask your favorite historical authors to write about specific times/places outside of the Regency or Victorian England, what would those time periods/places be?
For your convenience, here are my new links:
www.eliserome.com
www.facebook.com/eliseromeauthor
www.twitter.com/eliserome
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