13 Wednesday Feb 2019
Lady Fury. Me? Why would I do that? What kind of a re-release day jaunt in this?
Lady Fury – I didn’t know she did. She doesn’t either. As to why she writes them? Well, publishers are always looking for romances.
Lady Fury – Excuse me. Who was asked along here to do this post? On love? And answer questions about myself?
Lady Fury —Dudes, can we just please…..
29 Tuesday Jan 2019
Shey – Cos frankly I had to kick your butts into gear.
Shey- it is kind as you’re getting till you get back into line.
‘
‘Had her mind really whispered Lady Margaret this morning? James Flint Blackmoore. Pig. Pig. Complete. Absolute. Pig. Bastard. Now, that’s what she should have thought.’
Her gorge rose even though she had something on him now. A shipload in fact. Rescind the rules? In her dreams. His too. The bastard could take what he got and welcome.
Genoa 1820
Malmesbury would father the heir to the Beaumont dukedom. Count Vellagio wasn’t a contender. What she’d logged in her book about him this afternoon said it would be a huge mistake anyway. The same for the Duke of Southey—young, certainly, but a drunk with quiffed hair and filthy fingernails.
No, Malmesbury was the best. The only. Intelligent without being painful, fashionable yet not a dandy, and retaining enough of his looks at the age of fifty not to be outright repulsive.
Of course, it would have helped if Thomas could have fathered the Beaumont heir himself. But as he lay dead in a box in the cellar, that wasn’t likely.
“Gentlemen, you know as well as I do, this is an unusual evening.” Shivers ran up and down Lady Fury Shelton’s spine as she stood in the center of her darkened antechamber.
With its festooned corners and gold-scrolled furniture, the carmine-walled room was the best place for such an assignation, although the tiled floor and the cool clang of evening bells snaking in through the parted shutters made it chillier than usual. The candlelight glinting on the pale oval of Messalina’s face on the hanging above the bed, too. Earlier, the air had been hotter than a boiled lobster. She’d had to change twice in the space of an hour because she was too.
“Hear, hear.” Southey raised his crystal glass.
Where else, but to his obviously parched lips. A toast to her? Already it was obviously beyond his capability to sit down facing her as the other men were, with their drinks untouched on the tiny tables beside them, the epitome of good manners.
“My interviews are complete. Shortly, I will make my choice. Then, having done so, I will invite the said gentleman to this bedroom, where he will perform his duty as often as necessary.”
“All in one night. I say, that’s a tall order for a man. Isn’t it, chaps?”
For Southey, yes, it would be. Given the state in which he’d arrived at her door this afternoon, and what he’d sunk of her amaretto and limoncello in the meantime, it was a miracle he could still stand there against the marble fireplace. Never mind anything else.
But she wasn’t about to debate the subject. Maybe she was fit to snap the spine of the tooled leather book she was clutching–a pity it wasn’t his throat—the Moon could not look serener.
“I say, Fury, how the blazes are you going to tell right away?” Southey hiccupped. “Don’t them things take weeks and weeks to find out?”
“The one chosen will be here for weeks. Those not chosen,”—him in other words–“will leave within the hour. I think we may be clear that at any time in the future, should any one of you breathe a word to anyone about this, I will find out. I have sufficient information in this book here to ruin each and every one of you. Make no mistake, I will use it.”
“By God, Fury, you don’t need to talk like that about any of us, I’m sure,” Malmesbury, who had so far watched the proceedings with an amused smile, muttered. “You want to get one over on Thomas; I, for one, don’t blame you. We all saw him sneaking about with that Porto Antican tart when you first arrived.”
“Yes.” Who hadn’t?
“And do you think we’re unaware what his illness has done to him? The rages? The drinking? The way he keeps you here like a pet poodle?”
That too. Thomas wasn’t who she was getting one over on, but she couldn’t very well say so here.
She held in her hands every dirty little secret concerning these men. All documented in the yellow, dog-eared pages of her book. The leaves also contained letters, bills, testimonies, transactions. She kept it all beneath lock and key. So they obeyed her.
In fact, she kept dirty secrets on every member of the aristocracy she came into contact with, so she was safe for another hour, another day. She was hardly about to lose that balance of control by admitting this wasn’t about Thomas.
No. She could have paid a Porto Antican organ grinder to father her child and walked away, no questions asked. The one at the end of the harbor was handsome enough. But Lady Margaret would smell an organ grinder’s bastard at a hundred paces. Hadn’t the woman scented Fury?
Malmesbury shifted in his chair. “Where is he, by the way?”
“Who? Thomas? Thomas is visiting his father.”
No lie. Had any of these men facing her in the flickering candlelight known whether Thomas’s father lived or died, she’d never have chosen them.
“Even if he wasn’t, Thomas wants you to know me well. That is why he’s gone.” She hesitated. Thomas would spare her this next lie, although there was more than one grain of truth in it now. “Sadly, it is more than he can do himself these days. Now, I must ask you all to return to your chambers and wait. My mind is almost made up. Susan, here, will call in due course for the chosen one to return. And we’ll begin.”
“Dash it, that’s good to know.” Southey thumped his glass down on the marble mantelpiece.
In addition to his drinking, his casual mistreatment of the Murano goblet, while not worth an entry in her book, made him all the more unsuitable. What careless traits might a child inherit? Besides, his odor as he staggered past her made her stomach heave. It took every ounce of her self-control to remain where she was, inhaling the fragrance of the citrus-scented candle Susan had lit to disperse the gloom.
He paused and turned toward her. “All this cloak and dagger stuff is killing, you know.”
“Yes. Certainly for some.”
“What if you can’t … you know?”
“Oh, I’m sure I can.”
Malmesbury got to his feet. “I shall wait then, Fury.”
There was no doubt his palms itched to touch her, but she shrank from letting him. It didn’t bode well for later, but at least he didn’t smell. There wasn’t a single crease in his immaculate silver frock coat. And his shoe buckles not only shone, they sparkled. His valet must be remarkable, whoever he was.
Count Vellagio was silent as the crypt. Speaking limited English—and not much more Italian—he always was, unless it was absolutely necessary.
It was one mercy at least.
***
“Oh, I will fetch the chosen one, will I?” Susan folded her arms across her ample bosom, the instant the door closed.
Fury managed two steps and sank down at her dressing table. “Just cover the bruises, will you? I can’t have them on show. It might affect the conception-–or at least it might affect their ability to perform. They see that and God knows what they’ll think. I know I would.” She tossed the book into the open drawer. “So?”
“Madam—”
“If I have to take a stick to your back, I will.”
“A stick? That’s fine talk, when I think of all I’ve done for you.”
“I know you mean well,” Fury wheedled, dabbing a little perfume on her wrists. “But I believe it’s important for a woman to look her best, regardless of the situation. So don’t argue. I honestly can’t take arguing tonight. I don’t know if I can take anything more.”
“Look your best? For a bunch of drunken old faggots. Sadistic old faggots. Do you know what I heard about Vellagio today?”
Fury picked up her powder puff. When it came to looking her best, she might as well make a start, if Susan wasn’t going to help. “Whatever it was, you shouldn’t have been listening.”
“It was at the market. How could I help it?”
“By covering your ears. Anyway, I thought you didn’t speak Italian?”
“He uses boys. Young boys. Whether they want to or not. He whips them too.”
For a moment Fury stared at the marbled surface of the table. If she could draw strength from its veins to hers, that would be nice. If she could draw strength from anything, in fact. But she was past that now. All she could do was choose one of these old faggots.
“Really? Well, I heard it was young girls. But whichever it is, while I know you mean well, you’re not in my situation. In fact, it’s hard to think of anyone who is. But if anyone was, I’m sure they’d do what I’m doing.”
“You think.”
“We both know it’s this or nothing. I can’t … I won’t be cast off without a penny. Not again. It was bad enough the first time. And anyway, it’s no more than Lady Margaret deserves.” Wincing, she swept the dark fall of hair back from her neck. “Now, please, a little powder—”
“A little powder?” Susan folder her arms tighter. “It will take more than a little powder to cover that mess this time.”
“Just think like Lady Macbeth, will you? And stop arguing. You’ve done it before.” Fury raised her head as a gust of wind blew in through the open shutters. “Anyway, the men aren’t all old. Or faggots.”
“Fine. Have it your own way.” Fury almost ceased breathing as Susan secured the shutters, then bustled across the floor. “You know you always do. Though I’m not thinking of Lady Margaret. Or of what she deserves, either. I’m thinking of you.”
“Then don’t. You know I don’t require it.”
“I’m thinking you should just tell that old toad where to stuff her money. You could find a protector here in Genoa. A woman like you.”
“A woman like me?” Fury met her green-eyed reflection in the not-yet-paid-for glass. “And what would that be, exactly?” Long ago she’d stopped wondering, buffeted by fortune’s changing winds. Forced to snatch what she could to survive. Always knowing one false foot-fall would bring her down. “Anyway, why would I want a protector? Thomas was that, at the start. Now look at me, without a penny to my name again. No. I’ve had my fill of protectors. I want to guarantee my future. The future of … Well …” Her eyes dulled in the glass. “You know as well as I do the things that are dear.”
“But madam, if you didn’t have the money to pay certain bills, my sister wouldn’t—”
“That’s what you say, when we all know money is the most important thing on the planet.” She dabbed a little rouge on her cheeks. “You know the dire nature of my predicament, what I must guarantee and why. That damned old bag hated me from the first. Don’t tell me she doesn’t lie awake at nights just thinking of new ways to torture and humiliate me. But poisoning Thomas’s father against me? Cajoling him on his death bed into insisting Thomas must provide an heir before succeeding to the dukedom? What kind of new low was that? One I would never stoop to. In fact, now I think about it, I don’t know anyone else who would. Well, it’s one blessing at least that Lady Margaret lives in England and I’m here. Even if, in other ways, that’s a torture to me.”
Susan sprinkled a dusting of powder onto the dressing table as if she were measuring the ingredients for a cake, and then wiped her hands down her apron. “Indeed I do, madam, I just think, in fact I know—”
Despite herself, Fury touched what glittered around her neck. The single midnight-blue pendant Thomas had given her two Christmases ago. The copy of it, rather. Because that, like this, was also burning necessity. Her Hatton Garden jewel-maker had served her well, though. Thomas had never once suspected a thing of her need for that kind of money, and how it ran to far more than blackmail.
“Before you say another word on the subject, Susan–-as I know you’re going to and you should know I don’t want to hear–-even this jewel here wouldn’t pay for what I need to guarantee for Storm. It’s like me. Fake.”
“Undervalued is what I’d say. What about blackmail, then? That book—”
“Blackmail is messy, which is why I’m locking the book away again.”
“It’s not my business, but when I think of all the years you’ve bribed dressmakers and housemaids and coachmen to get what’s in it …”
“Out of necessity only. Knowing that at any time, this could all tumble down. No. This is the best way. Besides, think how good it will feel, finally outfoxing Lady Margaret. She insists on an heir. She gets one. Do you really think I’m going to care if the old bat coos over some child that’s not Thomas’s? When that’s going to be the very best feeling in the world? Well?”
“You might not say that in nine months time.”
“I can’t think of a reason why not.”
“So, who are you considering, madam? Southey? He’s certainly the youngest.”
“Well, now I can’t possibly lower myself to having Vellagio, I’m thinking Malmesbury, actually.”
“Malmesbury?” Susan’s fingers didn’t falter, but Fury sensed her start of surprise. Not in admiration of her sense of judgment either.
“Oh, I do admit that Southey would probably be less trouble and far more malleable. But Malmesbury’s hardly one-legged and toothless. I’m sure he knows how to treat a woman properly. Besides, so long as he’s—not like Thomas—what does it matter?”
Truth to tell, if anyone could understand her predicament, Thomas would have. For her sake, he’d tried ensuring an heir. But these last six months, as what pressed on his brain swelled, well … she certainly didn’t want any man treating her like Thomas had.
“That would be hard, madam, given the things His Grace did to you.”
“Well, we must remember, he wasn’t always like that. No. I think I’ve decided, Malmesbury, and I … Well, I think I should just go along there and get it over with. The sooner the better, don’t you think?” She smoothed a smoky curl into place on her forehead. “Besides, my reckoning is, he positively expects it.”
“What? Malmesbury? That old–”
“Oh, yes.” She reached toward the open trinket chest. “Now, what do you think? Sapphire earrings or plain gold?”
“I don’t see either matters, since they’re not going to be on very long.”
“Just the same.” She fastened on the sapphire drops. “You obviously didn’t see the way he stared there just now. I very much doubt he can contain himself.”
“The old goat.”
“Well. Who knows? If he’s a randy one, it might even be rather fun.” She marveled at herself for laughing when shadows ringed her eyes. But there, so long as she got through this, what did it matter?
Susan’s hand rested on her shoulder. “Then I’ll get him for you, madam, if this is truly your choice.”
“No.” Fun or not—and she thought not—the notion of admitting him here, to the bed she’d shared with Thomas, didn’t seem quite right somehow, even if she did manage to conceive the Beaumont heir. “I—I’ll do it. I need to calm my nerves. What bedroom is he in again? I confess I’ve forgotten.”
“The Blue Chamber.”
“Well then, think of England, as they say. Wish me luck. And remember to lock the drawer. However I choose to use it, that book is still the world to me. We must see it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
She rose, smoothed her dress—indigo silk, a perfect match for her hair and eyes– and took the candlestick.
If she did this, she forfeited forever her claim to be a respectable woman. Who was going to know though? Apart from herself, Susan and Malmesbury. That old coot would marry her in a second, if she gave the word. It was all the more reason to choose him. So why worry when the only thing that could possibly stand in her way was herself?
If she didn’t execute this task, then she faced being in the same position as she had been in seven years ago. It was fine at eighteen. But now, she needed to secure some things. Once she had, think of how free she’d be of men and all their machinations. For the first time ever. Women, too.
The Blue Chamber stood at the far end of the landing near the stairs, and she padded there noiselessly in the arc of the flickering candle, past the disapproving busts of the villa-owner Signor Santa-Rosa’s ancestors and the draped apertures, which she sometimes imagined hid more secrets than she did.
Malmesbury would be surprised to see her. Irresistibly dressed, jeweled, perfumed in a floating cloud of jasmine, and, hopefully, willing—as much as she could make herself, anyway. Who would know that beneath the rustling indigo silk, the heady, intoxicating jasmine she had bathed in earlier, she was like a skittish colt, ready to bolt? Was this how Marie Antoinette felt going to her execution? The queen’s deeds were certainly questionable. But her courage now? That was to be admired.
Besides, surprise could sometimes be the best method of attack. A man was, after all, a man. And, as she’d said to Susan, it might even be rather fun. If it wasn’t, well, in addition to swiftly retiring to her own bedroom, bolting the door and lying with cool lavender scented cloths on her forehead, there was her book, wasn’t there?
If he put a hand on her that was less than seemly, what she’d say to him on the subject of his murkier dealings would certainly ensure it would be fun the next time, if not before. Oh, this was going to be just fine.
Drawing a breath to quell her hammering heart, she raised her hand to tap on the door.
“Hello, sweetheart.” A low, American Southern voice drawled. Not from the other side of the door where she expected to hear something, but almost in her ear.
“Imagine seeing you here.”
Genoa 1820
Rule One: There will be no kissing. Rule two: You will be fully clothed at all times…
Widowed Lady Fury Shelton hasn’t lost everything—yet. As long as she produces the heir to the Beaumont dukedom, she just might be able to keep her position. And her secrets. But when the callously irresistible Captain James “Flint” Blackmoore sails back into her life, Lady Fury panics. She must find a way to protect herself—and her future—from the man she’d rather see rotting in hell than sleeping in her bed. If she must bed him to keep her secrets, so be it. But she doesn’t have to like it. A set of firm rules for the bedroom will ensure that nothing goes awry. Because above all else, she must stop herself from wanting the one thing that Flint can never give her. His heart.
Ex-privateer Flint Blackmoore has never been good at following the rules. Now, once again embroiled in a situation with the aptly named Lady Fury, he has no idea why he doesn’t simply do the wise thing and walk away. He knows he’s playing with fire, and that getting involved with her again is more dangerous than anything on the high seas. But he can’t understand why she’s so determined to hate him. He isn’t sure if the secret she keeps will make things harder—or easier—for him, but as the battle in the bedroom heats up, he knows at least one thing. Those silly rules of hers will have to go…
11 Friday Aug 2017
Tags
Book review, dating., Pirates, Regency, Shehanne Moore, The Unraveling of Lady Fury, Witless Dating After Fifty
My pleasure today is to review
My pleasure today is to review
Shehanne Moore’s exciting book,
“The Unraveling of Lady Fury.”
There’s a back story worth sharing,
an unbelievable event left
Fury Celia Fontanelli on a quay
by a pirate-style Captain who didn’t
look back, commandeering his
large ship, the Calypso, off
into the Caribbean.
How embarrassing!
Fury had to keep going ~
life wasn’t going to be “easy”
nor ever “uncomplicated.”
Establishing her good manners,
throwing herself into society
with a goal to capture a
fine Gentleman who
could marry her.
These days we might say:
Fury needed to be
“back on the market.”
Establishing her genteel persona,
Lady Fury gets married to
Thomas Beaumont.
Don’t worry, this is not a
Big Reveal!
Unfortunately, Thomas is
long gone before the first page.
The setting is in Genoa, 1820.
An important mission must be
achieved, a Beaumont heir!
How this comes about, who
will be chosen from three
“worthy suitors.”
There’s Count Vellagio,
The Duke Malmesbury
or the Duke of Southey.
There’s a sexy scoundrel,
thrown in for good measure:
Captain James Flint Blackmoor.
This is a taut, tightly wound
plot in the beginning,
until the unraveling
starts to take apart Lady Fury’s
resolve and staunch “rules”
which actually form a contract.
❤ 💓 💕 💘 💋 💗 👄 💟 💞 💖 ❤
So much fun, such steamy scenes
ensue. Please invest in a pretty fan,
to prevent swooning from the heat
generated from two remarkable
and most memorable leading
characters, Lady Fury and
“Flint” which varies to
“James,” depending
on her mercurial
moods and temper.
It has depth in emotions
and secret plot development,
motivating change and surprises.
The side characters like Susan,
Lady Fury’s personal attendant
(her maid, friend and confidante)
and the brothel keeper, Frau Berthe,
provide practicality and humor
in equally measured doses.
There’s not just Fury;
but a Storm ahead!
I hesitate to say too much,
preferring to recommend highly
this exceptional historical
romance novel.
I would give
this book,
5 of 5 stars.
🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠
Please check out
Shehanne Moore’s
blog which has the
invention of a word:
“Smexy”
which needs to be
added to all
updated
dictionaries!
https://shehannemoore.wordpress.com
and if you are interested in her other
books, please look at her other blog:
http://scandalousreads.com/author/3081/shehanne-moore
Have a sizzling read
and terrific Tuesday!
“What did you say to her?”
“What do you think? I told her that her precious son was lost at sea.”
“You didn’t!” Fury did her best to keep her voice lowered, even though the Blue Chamber stood at the other end of the landing. The prescience that this only made things worse intensified. As if Thomas’s ghost had risen up to haunt her for pushing him on that staircase and keeping him in a box. “How could you?”
He frowned. “Because you didn’t leave me a whole lot of choice with that little story you told about his holiness, the Pope.”
“What was I supposed to say? That Thomas is lying dead at the bottom of the bay, because you put him there, after I kicked him down the stairs and kept him in a box in the cellar for several days?”
He canted his jaw. “Well, how about a thank-you for getting you out the hole you were in?”
“It wasn’t a hole. I just didn’t know he was a freemason. They keep these things secret.”
“And you didn’t seem to know he was a protestant either. Is there anything you do know?”
They were going to quarrel. It was not the place with Lady Margaret along the corridor. Maybe Flint had left Susan with her. But no doubt Lady Margaret had disposed of her and had her ear to the wall. Then there was Malmesbury. The thought of Malmesbury made Fury sick to the pit of her stomach.
“Flint, I am grateful. It’s just her. Lady Margaret. You have no idea how much she hates me.”
“Isn’t that funny? She was soon guzzling out my hand.”
Of all the nasty, recalcitrant, self-seeking toads. She supposed she should just be grateful. Even Lady Margaret wasn’t immune to this man. But when Fury thought of all she had suffered at that woman’s hands, and Thomas too, because of her silly dictate…
“Of course, you like to imagine.”
It was just the thought of Flint encountering that lack of immunity with other women. Women far younger and more beautiful than Lady Margaret. He was going to now. There was no question of it. Despair engulfed her.
It wasn’t wrong he was so handsome, so beautiful. It wasn’t wrong she had succumbed to him as all other women did. It was terrible.
Sighing deeply, he turned his face to the side. “Look, I did it for you.”
“Me?” Oh, that was rich.
“Hell. It’s not exactly like it’s a lie, you stop and think about it for a moment. It’s probably quite smart. Smartest thing either of us could come up with in the circumstances. ’Specially if his body ever washes up.”
28 Wednesday Oct 2015
Tags
Halloween, Halloween in Italy, Halloween recipes, Pirates, recipes, Romance, Shehanne Moore, The Unraveling of Lady Fury, writing
Dudes, can we kindly stop arguing, so you can get ready for the special Halloween party that will be the culmination of all your work? You know the business of asking each of my fictional couples about Halloween where they are from?
We are blogging Italy today because Lady Fury lives there for most of the book.
Fury and Flint hero and heroine from the Unraveling of Lady Fury are here, so how about you roll with the questions?
Lady Fury : I thought you said they were funny, sweetly articulate creatures who would make every effort to ask us interestingly worded questions?
Captain Flint : I have been known to lie. 
Lady Fury : And you said they weren’t aggressive?
Captain Flint : If I told you the reason I’m down to nine fingers and they bite worse than you, you would never have agreed to this.
Shehanne : Okay, dudes…. Before she strops off can we maybe have a question? Or better still an answer?
Lady Fury : Putting aside the fact that there is trick and treating, and talking historically, Italy celebrates All Saints on November 1st and All Souls on November 2nd.
It’s an ancient tradition that can be traced back to Ancient Greece and it is celebrated differently from region to region. In some they leave an empty chair, in others, they light bonfires……
That is a picture of The Beans of the Dead biscuits, fave dei morti, an Italian biscuit, eaten at this time. But since it involves using your pointer finger to make them and you are likely to have eaten those, I am giving you this other recipe instead because there are rules about these things.
My recipe card is, of course, so much better than these other trashy heroines of Shehanne’s brought along to bore you with.
Witches fingers
Arrange the shaped biscuits on the baking trays.
Captain Flint. Of course we will be. Here’s the lanterns. Fury here sculpted them with her teeth,
Captain Flint : That’s a pity, I was going to leave them for your party. This one kind of reminded me of you guys.
If it had ears that is.
Lady Fury. Why don’t you shut up? You can see they don’t think it looks anything like them. We want to get back to the children, alive.
Captain Flint : This here’s the napkins.
Sorry. You know, next to Fury, you’re my favourite critters. Of course I meant….
Lady Fury : And here’s something else from me. A little spell…..
Lady Fury :You know, I think I did that rather well. Now, do we have any spare boxes?
14 Saturday Feb 2015
Posted in blogging, book tour, Guest bloggers, heroes, heroines
Tags
His Judas Bride, Jane Hunt, Lady Fury, Shehanne Moore, The Dragon Legacy, The Revenge Masquerade, The Unraveling of Lady Fury
It’s lovely to welcome you to my blog Milady Fury.
Moi? Obsessive? Oh not at all.
You have read my story; you know how awful Flint can be and that rules with him are a must. As for other obsessions? I have none. Have I shown you this picture of Flint? IKeep it with me at All times.
I can see the attraction.
When you put it like that I think I might be, which leads on to my next question. Would you consider Flint your weakness and if so why?Oh…very well, Milady, you do drive a hard bargain. I think it is fair to say that Flint and I go back a long way. He was my first lover and there were times when we were very good together. I admit that I was younger then and a very different person from what I am now. So there were aspects of the not so good moments, I probably should have done differently and yes, these things can haunt. Like trying to bring that parakeet aboard the Calypso for example, which got me heaved off it. He is Storm’s father. I think women find it hard to walk away from that. I suppose he got under my skin and no-one else compared and not just because he’s good in bed. Flint’s not good at being humble and a cat probably had a better upbringing, so even when he’s bad, I can’t help but forgive him.
If you lived in the twenty- first century what type of woman would you be?I’d like to be better educated. The opportunities for women that way are just so much better, although I suppose that being brought up in a brothel, had its uses. I’d hope to be less driven. 
And of course, I’d be just as nice and amenable as I truly am.
Mmm , how insightful you are Milady.Who’s your favourite character in Shehanne’s other stories?
You mean apart from myself? Well, I do admit that her Black Wolf of Lochalpin, Callm McDunnagh the hero of His Judas Bride, is rather tasty. Yes. He is very ruthless and thinks nothing of taking the odd throat out, then there’s his appalling sarcasm every time he opens his mouth. But the lovely Milady Aimee Duffy said he ‘is as terrifying as he is intriguing,’ while the equally lovely Milady Erin Moore summed him up by saying “Callm is a tortured and twisted alpha male, yet underneath is a big marshmallow.’ And I think that’s it with Callm. He is prepared to lay down his life for Kara and I do not think it gets more romantic than that.
How interesting…I promise not to tell Flint. Now for all the romantics amongst us. Do believe in love at first sight?Well, it is that romantic time of year isn’t it? So I suppose I should say that when I looked at Milord Wolf…sorry, I may not believe but it is very clear to me that Flint does. I mean in his own way, when he first saw me on board the Calypso, wearing his dead lover’s dress, it was perfectly plain, it was love. He just found it hard to admit, as we all do, that such a heart stopping thing can happen. You can find your partner in a glance.
You’ve travelled all over the world with your ‘book club’. Where in the world would you most like to live?Hmm… Really Milady, so long as it’s with Flint, and isn’t any of the places we are wanted, anywhere is good.Apart from Flint? Do you have a favourite crew member?Apart from you good self, Skipper Jane, I am very fond of Myrtle, probably because if there is one thing Flint loathes it is parrots.
Do you believe in ‘Happy Ever After’?I believe in ever after. Yes indeed. Any ‘ever after’ requires working at in order to keep it happy. If you waltz off into the clouds with unrealistic expectations, it’s a long drop down.
My favourite Valentine’s dish apart from Flint? Oh, indeed, I have a special Valentine’s Day…. Sugared Nuts.
Do serve with my cocktail.
MMmm both of those sound delicious. I will be making a red velvet creation, a cake of course, which I will share with you tomorrow Valentine’s Day28 Sunday Dec 2014
Posted in blogging, Guest bloggers, heroes, heroines, writing
Tags
Christmas on a pirate ship, Erotic Romance, Pirates, recipes, The Lady Fury Cocktail, The Unraveling of Lady Fury
Okay, dudes, the fact is you didn’t just jump the gun, you frog-leaped the whole battery. You never waited to see what was going to come out Vassily’s gun. 
No. But now we got a diplomatic hamster incident. SO, what we are going to do today is continue with the character Yuletide blogs, welcoming my heroine, Lady Fury of the Unraveling of Lady Fury.
With her special Fury cocktail.
Between now and New Year we are also going to be welcoming my new heroine, Lady Malice.
Lady Fury. Well, that would be telling. Pirates, of course, are men who fear nothing, but it might surprise you to know there is a history of pirates celebrating Christmas….
But, of course…..
Of course that story is from the golden age of piracy but still, in general, the pirates have a day off from everything.
But of course. I won’t say anything about the kind of hit Taliano is but he did get new teeth in his stocking–whether he wears them is another matter…………..
Seriously, Flint and I had a lovely day, although since he stole all the presents for me and the children, whether we have many more, I cannot say.
How very kind.
Goodness! For that I can blow you a kiss.
14 Sunday Dec 2014
Tags
Books N Pearls, Christmas, Christy Birmingham, One Real neat Blog award, recipes, The Unraveling of Lady Fury
RULE 1 Put the award logo on your blog.
Rule 2 Answer 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
QUESTION 1 Where do most visits to your blog come from?
Mostly they come from the USA. It’s a big place after all. But I absolutely love the fact I have followers from Italy, Spain, Holland, Ireland, Singapore, Dubai, The United Arab Emirates, Germany, Iran, Russia, Armenia, Canada, India, Iraq, Switzerland, Poland, the Ukraine, France, Turkey, Greece, Peru, Chile. Brazil…oh and Australia, the UK, to name some of the places. It makes me feel not only very cosmopolitan, it makes me want to wish you of all the best of for the season— to paraphrase the legendary Dave Allen, whatever god goes with you.
QUESTION 2 What is your favourite sport?
Drinking.
QUESTION 3 What has been a special moment for you in 2014?
Well landing the contract for my next book was pretty special for me, especially as I shopped for a new publisher and that was pretty nerve wracking.
But…the arrival of this little fellah here was the absolute best.
Being a glammie is cool and you can see that having pulled his first baby girlfriend he’s studying the blurb, looking for tips!! (I never took the pic by the way before you think this is shameless promotion! My daughter did for a giggle and sent it).
We also moved house this year and the one thing about that was the importance of being able to sit my family down at the table at Christmas. It’s not my gothic dining room like last year..I ain’t even got to decorating it yet, but I did set the table earlier.( Cos I am BUSY )
and everyone has a stocking on their chair as you might be able to see! SO we are good.
QUESTION 4 What is your favourite quote?
Quote or saying? My fav saying involves rude things with ducks. ( Here spelt correctly) Quote…? Hmm. Do I have one? Sorry, that is not the quote. I like Incy Black’s quote……
FALL DOWN SEVEN TIMES STAND UP EIGHT.
But the older I’ve got, the more I’ve also come to think of that Tennessee Williams quote in the Glass Menagerie…Blow out your candles. It is a wonderful line and I totally understand why it is being uttered. I’ve just come to the stage where I now say, Light your candles and let them burn brighter than ever for the day the will come when they will be dark.
(I could reword this along the lines for the day you can’t light a frigging match! ) Seriously Enjoy life. It’s what you have.
QUESTION FIVE. What was your favourite class when still at school?
Well…that’s kinda difficult seeing as I never went a lot. Probably drama.
QUESTION SIX. Anything you had wished to have learned earlier?
Uhm. Everything happens for a reason.
QUESTION SEVEN What musical instrument have you tried to play?
Well now, I can play six but telling you now the one I got chucked out the class for trying to play was violin…… Ok it was for laughing at the racket…
RULE 3 Thank the people who nominated you, linking to their blogs.
I got this award from the amazing poet and writer Christy Birmingham. Check her out. She’s something else! http://poeticparfait.com/about/
RULES FOUR AND FIVE Nominate any number of bloggers you like, linking to their blogs. Let them know you nominated them (by commenting on their blog etc.)
Okay….
I hereby nominate and folks to paraphrase Fury…..some questions are made to be changed.
Jane Hunt http://t.co/qWAtN94xTV
Mike Steeden http://mikesteeden.wordpress.com/
Incy Black http://incyblack.weebly.com/
Noelle Clark http://www.noelleclark.net/
Ellis Vidler http://t.co/0qOJ7VYCMU
Antonia Van Zandt. http://t.co/AIE1TeBnVL
Sharon Struth http://www.sharonstruth.com/
Elizabeth Ellen Carter. http://t.co/PnzIrl890o
To enter…..just visit the site and leave a comment
16 Thursday Oct 2014
Tags
Etopia Press, Gathering Leaves, Halloween, His Judas Bride, Loving Lady Lazuli, Millais, The Unraveling of Lady Fury
I chose this painting by Millais
I chose this painting by Millais because
Dudes…can we lay off please, or you so know what is going to happen to that Hamstah Week? And that will sorely disappoint your fans.
Now then, I chose that painting…well..all right, I never chose it as such
No, I sort of wasn’t actually. What I was going to say was
Yeah. Look at that pink pig there with flying wings. Isn’t it pretty?
Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, the painting and how it inspired me to 
What I was trying to say, maybe not very well, is that I have two heroines in two books left with a disposal problem.
SO the painting by Millais, 
It’s Halloween,
I do like to play up horror in the ordinary in my books. It adds a little suspense… although obviously my characters who tangle with death in some way, aren’t bad people.
I just find my inspiration in the ordinary, as you can see……
And that painting did inspire this scene in Loving Lady Lazuli, which is as much as I am going to share with you today.
“I’m tellin’ yer, soddin’ ‘ell, I’m tellin’ yer, yer can’t. Yer…”
“Just take his feet. Do it will you?”
His feet? Devorlane clicked his tongue in the hope of nudging Mephisto closer. The beast was finicky and he didn’t particularly want to be caught where Lord Koorecroft had told him not to be. Although, when he considered it, Lord Koorecroft’s specifics had been shrubberies. Shrubbery? He wasn’t even on her damned property, was he?
Whose feet and why, was what he had the burning urge to discover.
Of course, he could be mistaken about that. Maybe it wasn’t feet at all? Maybe it wasn’t anything?
“Pearl. The spade…”
The instruction was faint but, no, he did not mistake it. A spade. A spade and feet. A spade and feet meant one thing. He’d seen enough death to know.
He dismounted and crept one or two steps down the incline through the faint mist coiling around his boots. The dew soaked them with each mushy step. If this baggage was down there with a spade, he must be careful.
For that matter it might be his feet she was instructing Pearl and Ruby to get. Look at the things she’d managed to turn around on him so far. From sticking the Wentworth emeralds in the pocket of his best breeches, to bleating to Lord Koorecroft about the big bad Chessington wolf being in her shrubbery.
He turned and clapped Mephisto’s neck. It was better if he sent the animal back to Chessington.
Keeping low, Devorlane tiptoed to the tree at the foot of the incline. The vantage point was not so good from there, but he thanked Christ for at least being able to bring the throb in his thigh under control.
“Oh!” that other serving girl, Pearl, wailed. “What’s that noise? What’s that noise, Rube? Listen. Do you hear it?”
He froze to the tree bark. The possibility existed they could just be gardening. It was the time of year for that, wasn’t it? Hell on earth, he’d been so long away from a garden of any sort he couldn’t remember.
“Only sound I don’t ‘ear is the soddin’ sound of yer bleedin’ diggin’. Put yer back inter it, yer lazy trout. Bleedin’ ‘ole won’t dig itself.”
A hole? There was only one kind he could think of. He’d thought of it when he’d edged down the hill. But now he’d done so his mouth dried. Shock, that he knew he must squash if he was still to have the element of surprise and turn this to his advantage, clutched his gut. Not who. Why? That was the thing he needed the answer to. Then he could go to Lord Koorecroft. It would be the end of her. There would be no passing off a corpse in her garden as a servant of the realm.
“But, Rube, I only got a trowel.”
“I don’t care if you’ve only got a spoon. Do what Ruby says.”
Her voice. He’d wondered, hadn’t he, that night, about what particular level of gutter-snipe she was. What hole she’d crawled from, for all the brilliant mantle of her entirely faked refinement never slipped for a second. Those words, that husky, slightly rough undertone , said maybe not a center of the earth one, but certainly one deeper than that grave they were obviously digging.
“But, Cass. Cass, listen. I swear I’m not imagining it. I can hear it. What if it’s—”
“Are you stupid? Devorlane Hawley’s nowhere about. He can’t be. I assured it.”
“I wasn’t thinking Lord Hawley. What if it’s Gil?”
“Oh, ‘ow the bleedin’ ‘ell can it be Gil? Jeesus-sake. Ain’t that Gil. Ain’t that only Gil there? Dead as the soddin’ dodo.”
“Ruby’s right, the dead don’t walk.”
Devorlane crept forward. Oh, didn’t they? He did not believe this, these words he had just heard, but now was the time to get through the border of bramble and bracken, to sidle with the broken wall beneath his fingertips, and to peer, with a clawed breath, at the coronet of women, laboring in the cold of the early winter sunlight, digging, with a kind of desperation. At least she was.
A kind of something else too. His eyes unfortunately roamed the nicely rounded curve of her buttocks clearly outlined by the clinging gown. Soft. Velvet. The exact color of her eyes too.
When the throbbing ache in his thigh was under control for the first time today, why give himself another? Especially when her husband’s days of peace and tranquility had ended sooner than any of them anticipated by the looks of this. What seeped through the barrier of the sheet? Had she perchance assisted with his demise?
The thought determined him. Here was his chance. He was soldier enough to know there was dissent in the ranks. And man enough not to fear three women.
After all, what could they do to him, he thought, as he now stepped forward.
Copywrite Etopia Press.
22 Friday Aug 2014
Tags
Etopia Press, His Judas Bride, It's so not hamstah week., Loving Lady Lazuli, Shehanne Moore, The Unraveling of Lady Fury, writing, Writing stakes
Hey, hey, hey, who said anything about that?
I don’t care what it is, this is not on…..
Do I really need to answer that? Sorry fellahs, but would she really do everything she does….to safeguard one of you?
Well, you like to think so. But just step back and ask yourself? Do you think that Sapphire would come back to Berkshire and stick it out against the one man in England who can identify her to prove you are her hamster? 
I don’t think Lord Hawley would appreciate a hamstah in his trouser pocket. I’m not even going there. And Kara would hardly try taking down a clan to get her hamstah back before you even go there.
Okay, well guys, you are making two points here.
One, The fact is I did use animals in His Judas Bride, largely to show that the hero was not quite as ruthless as all that. He has a dog, a sort of half wolf, half savage, half legged thing that is HIS dog and it’s one of the things Kara notices about him. He may curse at it and tell it to shut up but he is unfailingly kind to it. SO animals do have their uses.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, just look at all the books that have been written about animals…
and let’s not forget ones like
and even
And do I make a song and dance re the lack of humans?
The fact is someone who does not realize animals all belong with us on the planet is a sad person.
That’s point one. SECOND POINT– sorry, your story stakes have to be high as Everest, they have to be do or die stakes when it comes down to writing about why people do the things they do, why they will go to the wire, why they will go over that edge if need be. A reader must not only identify with the stakes, they must identify with the character that way. So ask yourself about these stakes at the start. it is not enough to have a plot. A plot is just a plot. You need to flesh out the stakes and the conflicts.
And really, really, REALLY sorry fellahs, but I don’t know you cut it with your er…. pitch….which isn’t to say you don’t have your uses. Goodness did I say two points. No that’s a third. 
Just not enough to cut it for a week……
29 Tuesday Jul 2014
Okay. Okay. I was going to be finishing 
with the star attraction. The idea is sound.
We interview James Flint Blackmoore, the hero of
But not if I’m going to have the blog nicked from under my keyboard next….. So, Flint do you think you could stop stealing long enough to answer a few questions on things like what is your favourite pirate book and sea shanty.
Flint. Is that a question sweetheart? 
Flint. Just give me a minute.
Flint. No it ain’t..I mean…. isn’t. Fine. I don’t believe I’m talking to a hamster here.
Shey. Well, so long as they don’t make rules, you should do just….dandy….to quote yourself. SO, do tell us, why are sea shanties so important to pirates and what is your favorite?
Flint. Like I said to Fury, I’m not a pirate. I’m a privateer.
Shey. And like she said to you. Let’s not quibble about the words. Besides at one point you do say you’re a pirate. I’m guessing sea shanties fall in the same class as parrots and babies crying. You’d sooner cut off your ears than listen.
Flint. Well. Kind of. But sea shanties are important to raise morale and co-ordinate onboard tasks, although it don’t mean I’m going to start singing them.
Nice choice.
I thought this interview was about me?
You fellahs strike a hard bargain.
Well, ain’t that just dandily familiar?
Shey. Seriously, Flint, is it true pirates have rules?
Flint. They ain’t the only ones. 
Rules? Yes they do. In fact Ching Shih a famous Chinese lady pirate had special ones for female captives. Of course her standard practice was to release women, but apparently the pirates made their most beautiful captives their concubines or wives. ( I am saying nothing here.)
Shey. Is it true that if a pirate took a wife he had to be faithful to her?
Ching Shih set the ugliest free and any remaining were ransomed. Pirates that raped female captives were put to death, but if it was consensual sex, the pirate was decapitated and the woman he was with had cannonballs attached to her legs and was chucked off the side of the boat.
Shey. SO you wouldn’t exactly have fared well on her ship. Flint. My lips are sealed. Fury wouldn’t have done too well either.
Shey. What about Storm and Fortune? Are there rules for children on board pirate ships? 
Flint Oh, You guys would have to swear not to sing sea shanties for a start. 
Shey. Actually how was it meeting Storm for the first time?
Flint. Meeting Storm was incredible. I was nervous. She has that little bit of attitude–well, she’s Fury’s daughter isn’t she? You know I think Storm was astonished she had a father. I mean you’d have thought Fury would have told her all about me. Anyway, she’ wasn’t too broke up about the fact she’s had to come away with us, even if Fury did have her head stuffed with talk of fancy suitors and that. As for Fortune and her…well, that’s a far bridge right now, but after trying to drop Fortune over the side once, Storm is starting to like her.
Shey. Two final questions
Flint. Shoot.
Shey. Any tips on being a pirate?
Flint. Now that, like coming by the Beaumont heir, is hard.
Flint. Keep your cutlasses primed, and be sure to leave the lady hamsters on shore. Lady hamsters and boats don’t mix.
Flint. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Shey. What’s your favourite pirate film.
Flint. Pirates of the Caribbean 7. On the High Seas with Ratsy and Vonnie.
Shey. Well, that’s it for It’s Pirates week folks. SO we’re going to let Flint get back to his travels on the pirated Palerna with her ladyship. Next up it’s jewel thieves week…leading to a special announcement. Like Flint, my lips are sealed.
Rule One: There will be no kissing. Rule two: There will be no touching…
Widowed Lady Fury Shelton hasn’t lost everything—yet. As long as she produces the heir to the Beaumont dukedom, she just might be able to keep her position. And her secrets. But when the callously irresistible Captain James “Flint” Blackmoore sails back into her life, Lady Fury panics. She must find a way to protect herself—and her future—from the man she’d rather see rotting in hell than sleeping in her bed. If she must bed him to keep her secrets, so be it. But she doesn’t have to like it. A set of firm rules for the bedroom will ensure that nothing goes awry. Because above all else, she must stop herself from wanting the one thing that Flint can never give her. His heart.
Ex-privateer Flint Blackmoore has never been good at following the rules. Now, once again embroiled in a situation with the aptly named Lady Fury, he has no idea why he doesn’t simply do the wise thing and walk away. He knows he’s playing with fire, and that getting involved with her again is more dangerous than anything on the high seas. But he can’t understand why she’s so determined to hate him. He isn’t sure if the secret she keeps will make things harder—or easier—for him, but as the battle in the bedroom heats up, he knows at least one thing. Those silly rules of hers will have to go…
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