May the beauty and joy of Christmas fill your hearts to overflowing. Cheers and blessings to all,
Hi, everybody, and welcome back. Here's a snippet from my Christmas Regency, Love, Unmasked:
Georgette squirmed, a single indecorous wriggle of unbearable delight. Several blond curls broke free from her careless knot and dangled around her face, one sporting a forlorn hairpin that swung with her movement. “Oooh, yes, Mister Brightenburg, he of the most delicious legs. What he does to a pair of silken hose and breeches—”
Appalled, Fidelity dropped a stitch. “Georgette!” Not that it wasn’t true. But saying it aloud was beyond the pale, even here in the privacy of the morning room. Although come to think of it, it would be lovely to just hang it all and squirm along with her.
It didn’t help that her traitorous thoughts dwelled on the legs in question. Those lovely curving calves, the whip-cord muscular thighs, and above that…
“Indeed!” Jessica flipped upright on the sofa and whirled, grabbing Georgette’s shoulders. “Such men should be required by law to wear nothing else.”
Fidelity’s hands jerked and another loop slid off the needle. Those girls can’t get any worse. It’s impossible.
“Or nothing at all!”
So much for that notion.
How far is Fidelity Scott willing to go to catch the sexiest bad boy in Mayfair? When she catches him, will he prove worth the effort? And will her young cousins be help or hindrance in her scandalous plan?
Thanks for stopping by. Cheers and happy reading,
Happy dancing! The first review's in for my Christmas Regency, Love, Unmasked — four stars from Inked in the Bayou Reviews! I particularly like this bit:
"The plot could have been straight from any modern romantic comedy -- girl obsessed with hot bad boy, girl gets her chance with guy and finds out he's a total D-bag, girl’s equally hot, sweet best guy friend swoops in for the rescue and they live happily ever after. Even though it's a common theme, I (and judging by the amount of rom-coms produced every year, a LOT of other people) fall for it every time, so it didn't lessen my reading enjoyment any."
There's something about waiting for that first review. Checking every hour or so, scaring myself wondering if nobody's going to like it, that little stab of disappointment each time when there's still nothing posted… and then finally the first review arrives and I'm almost afraid to read it. IT'S FOUR STARS! I'M HAPPY!!!!!!
Probably TMI, right? Does anybody else have that sort of fit while awaiting that magical first? Thanks for the read, Inked in the Bayou!
And thanks to you, the reader, for stopping by. Cheers,
Love, Unmasked is now live almost everywhere. (For some reason, the Apple iTunes Bookstore is taking a loooong time to publish. Anybody got any ideas on that?)
Here's the opening:
Fidelity Scott sucked in a shivery breath and froze, knitting needles poised like twin exclamation marks amid her neatly coiled pink yarn. All sensation faded away and around her, the morning room paled to a foggy grey nothingness. The crackling fire warmed her face but lost all color and sound, and the tremor in her hands started in her knitting needles and rippled through to her toes, missing none of her in between.
It happened every time, without fail. Her friend Clarissa Pelham had mentioned that name, the one guaranteed to draw Fidelity into dreamy, mindless yearnings no matter the circumstances, and it did so with its usual heady abandon. The raw emotions shivering through her seemed to suck all the bones from her body, leaving her trembling like some loathsome sea creature.
Her younger cousin, Jessica Alcock, sprawled back across the sofa, one arm falling over her face in a pretended swoon, the other grabbing for one of the overstuffed pillows propped among the cushions. The lower half of her face, all that could be seen through her amateur theatrics, seemed to melt into a gooey puddle of drool. “Oooh, yes, Mis-ter Bright-en-burg!” she trilled in a vibrato sing-song.
A chorus of sighs broke through Fidelity’s name-induced fog and she shook herself awake. Embarrassing, that was. Honestly, if she couldn’t control her reaction when a certain gentleman’s name was mentioned, then she scored no higher on propriety than her two young cousins, which was very very bad indeed.
Fidelity tries to be the adult in the room, which isn't difficult considering how much fun her two cousins insist upon having. Or at least it isn't difficult until someone mentions that name… and then she's sunk.
Thanks for stopping by. Cheers,
Vivian Roycroft is a pseudonym for historical fiction and adventure writer J. Gunnar Grey. And if she’s not careful, her pseudonymous pseudonym will have its own pseudonym soon, too. With its own e-reader, a yarn stash, an old Hermès hunt saddle, and a turtle sundae at Culver‘s.
A Different Sort of Perfect
Works in progress:
Kissing the Toad: In Berkeley Square, book #1