Oh, I know you will be saying but what could be more completely different than a crow providing puddings? https://shehannemoore.wordpress.com/2014/01/12/5275/ –I’ve got the recipes by the way and will be sharing them along with tomorrow’s guest, my lovely doodling buddy, Elyzabeth M Valey.
The Starkadder Sisterhood themselves are over here today with the lovely Noelle Clark. Or rather I am answering questions about how they came into being and spilling some beans on them generally.
So, so far the actual program is looking like this. (You will appreciate I need to remind myself)
Yep. Of course we have additions…
who I first met when I was on a blog tour on her blog (with a name like that I got to love this girl and make her an honorary Scot, so of course I did) and she has sent a very special visitor….
a medium no less. And just any medium. Madam Celestia Cooper (fortune-teller, extraordinaire if you please) is a rather eccentric woman in her mid-40’s, who wears a purple turban, genie pants, and elf shoes (you know the kind that curl up at the toes?) (Doubt Saff would nick them)
She specializes in crystal balls and palm reading. In the novel, her nickname is “Cellie”. (oops, let’s not tell Flint that one since it’s the name of his dead mistress.)
SO without more ado, I am going to hand you over and let’s just see what Celestia has to say about this little homecoming. Will Dev even come in? Is there anybody there in his family? And if there are what messages do they have for him?
Hello, Dearies! by Adrienne deWolfe or rather CELESTIA
My, how lovely you all look today at Shey’s recital: all sparkly and golden. Angels in the making, I daresay.
Except for that Lazuli woman, of course. Now THAT character really is a handful. She can’t sing for her supper, so she pinches it. My darling Dev had better watch his family jewels – especially the ones below his belt, if you know what I mean.
I beg your pardon?
Well, of COURSE I know what I’m talking about. That Lazuli chit pinched the emeralds and stuck them in Dev’s pocket – right about the time she was sticking her tongue down his throat. I know all, because I see all.
Uh . . . by the way. You didn’t happen to notice my crystal ball around here, did you? The little rascal seems to have rolled off somewhere. Balls have quite a mind of their own – but I don’t have to tell YOU that, do I Dev dear? Always cavorting with elves and fairies and drunken dragons.
No, no, my darling boy. The CRYSTAL BALL, not your bollocks.
Now then. Where were we? Oh yes! My crystal ball. It’s not tucked under my turban. (Why, thank you, Belle, dear. My turban IS a lovely shade of amethyst, isn’t it?)
And the crystal ball isn’t tucked inside my sash . . .
Tavy must have sneaked it into my sash for safe-keeping after she romped through the mine. She’s quite irrepressible, as otter pups go. Why, in the middle of my last séance, Tavy had everyone thinking she was a ghost! Chased a cheese puff right under Silver’s skirts! You’ve never seen such a commotion! Bullets flying, women fainting, chandeliers dropping glass shards on everyone’s heads. Is it any wonder the spirits were NOT amused?
Speaking of spirits . . . I have a message for you, Dev dear! Your brother Ardent has come all the way from the great Beyond. Goodness gracious, I’m afraid that Ardent’s a tad miffed at you!
He says that since he was so obliging, and dropped down dead just so you could inherit his manor, the very LEAST you could do is start saying nice things about him. Especially to that sot you call a sister.
Ardent also wants you to know that Papa loved him best. And that you should stick your head inside the loo.
I beg your pardon, Devorlane? Was I filching from the liquor cabinet?
Nonsense, dear boy. I only talk to spirits. I don’t drink ‘em.
Well, my darlings, I do believe my time is up! Shey has many other guests on her program to entertain you! But before I go, I really MUST remind you to look for me in the pages of SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE (which SHOULD have been named after me. But alas, that author-twit named my book after my son-in-law, Rafe.)
Speaking of SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE, I have a little treat for you today! That’s right, dearies! A scene straight out of the novel! It’s my moment of triumph! My fifteen minutes of fame! (It’s also quite possibly the ONLY reason that book ever became a #1 bestseller on Barnes and Noble.)
And now, without further ado, I give you that bestselling, award-winning, FABULOUS historical romance novel, SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE (which is only 99 cents today, for all you lucky Nook and Kindle owners!)
Ta-tah, my darlings!
(Book 1, Velvet Lies Series)
By Adrienne deWolfe
Raphael Jones is a Kentucky-born scoundrel, who has never played by the rules. When Colorado mining heiress, Silver Nichols, hires him to stop her precious daddy from marrying a golddigger, Rafe sets out to seduce Silver and win her fortune.
But beneath Silver’s cool veneer, Rafe encounters a sweet vulnerability and an aching secret that threatens to send his whole world up in smoke.
Now the wily scoundrel must choose: walk away or wager the one thing he can’t afford to lose—his heart.
SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE
(Book 1, Velvet Lies Series)
By Adrienne deWolfe
Excerpt: The Séance Scene
“The spirits speak of danger, yes,” Celestia said solemnly, in answer to Silver’s question.
“What kind of danger?”
Celestia closed her eyes, rocking rhythmically for a moment behind her crystal ball. Her purple turban listed aft, allowing her blonde curls to jut past her ears, like corkscrews. But somehow, as Celestia waved her chubby, bejeweled fingers over the odd mist that was rising in that ball, Silver had to concede that the fortune-teller maintained her dignity.
“Retribution,” Celestia announced dramatically.
Every man who’d been holding his breath at the séance released it on a gasping rush of air—and just as quickly gulped another.
“Hot damn,” Papa muttered. “Penhalion, you and your boys aren’t planning any dynamite mischief, are you?”
The squat, feisty miner scowled. “Now see here, Nichols, we may be immigrants, but we’re law-abiding—”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” Celestia held up her hands for silence. “Please. Communication with the otherworld is a delicate matter. One cannot bully answers out of spirits. One must show gratitude. And respect.” She shot a blistering look at Buckholtz, who was scribbling notes into his news reporter’s notebook.
“Now then.” Celestia settled more comfortably on her pillow, threw her slipping shawl over her shoulders, and gripped her crystal ball once more. “I shall ask the questions. You will listen for answers. Spirits, is someone in this circle in danger?”
Everyone in the room jumped as an audible thud answered her query.
“Does one rap mean yes?”
A single rap answered, this time from the other side of the room.
“How will you answer no?”
Two raps sounded close to the window. So did a faint scratching noise.
“How the devil is she making those sounds—”
Everybody at the table glared daggers at Buckholtz for interrupting.
“Is a man from this circle in danger?” Celestia intoned.
One rap. Silver frowned, glancing uneasily at the shadow-steeped walls. Had Papa helped his fiancé rig the knocking noises? If so, how had they done it so convincingly?
“Will there be bloodshed?” Celestia demanded.
Silence rolled like a tangible fog through the candle-lit chamber. Silver counted five, perhaps six heartbeats before the answer finally knelled: One rap.
“For heaven’s sake, who is it? Who is it!” Daisy wailed.
“Is it the husband of Daisy Trevelyan?” Celestia intoned.
The elderly socialite sobbed with relief.
“Very well,” Celestia said. “Then we shall determine who among the remaining gentlemen it is. Spirits,” Celestia called, her voice rising in volume and power, “we seek the intended victim’s name. Kindly knock when I state the first letter. A,” she said slowly. “B.” Each syllable resonated with dramatic authority. “C—”
A horrific crash drowned out her voice. Papa leaped to his feet. So did Rafe and Daisy.
“It’s the ghost!” Daisy shrieked, pointing at a renegade crab puff. It bounced from the armchair
to the floor. Before everyone’s astonished eyes, the pile of china on top of the cushion toppled, shattering into a dozen pieces. Slowly, spookily, the white ticking on the armchair began to rise.
“Merciful God on Sunday,” Buckholtz choked, his eyes bugging out to twice their normal size. The ghost gave a sleepy bark, and the newsman drew his .45.
“No!” Rafe shouted, lunging for the newsman’s arm.
The Colt fired. Plaster showered from the ceiling. Daisy wilted in a dead faint.
And the ghost, yiking in terror, streaked out from under the ticking to dash beneath Silver’s petticoats.
……………OOH!!! SO there we have it for today. It only remains for me to thank Adrienne, tell you a little about her and some of the other work she does, AND to add that tomorrow’s guest Elyzabeth M. Valey will be showing us the invitation cards she designed plus revealing Ranting Crow’s fabulous recipes as we continue the countdown to Dev’s homecoming and my reveal of Chapter One.
About Adrienne deWolfe
Adrienne is a #1 best-selling author and the recipient of 48 writing accolades, including the Best Historical Romance of the Year Award for Texas Wildcat (Book 3, Texas Wild Nights) and Doubleday’s Book of the Month Selection for His Wicked Dream (Book 2, Velvet Lies.) Adrienne is excited to announce that she will be donating a portion of her royalties from the Velvet Lies Series to urban reforestation efforts.
Fascinated by all things mystical, Adrienne writes a weekly blog about dragons, magic, and the paranormal at http://MagicMayhemBlog.com to help her research her upcoming paranormal romance series. She also writes a weekly blog featuring tips about the business of writing at http://WritingNovelsThatSell.com. She enjoys mentoring aspiring authors and offers professional story critiques with her book coaching services.
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