IN THE NEWS:Man fleeing Ohio police jumps fence--into prison. Read moreHERE.
Hey, all! Yes, I know it's WIP Wednesday, but considering this will be my last post until after Easter... I thought I'd change it up a bit.
I don't know about you, but I like to a lot of birthday/Christmas shopping online because of convenience and time. However, when I do this I end up ordering books for myself. (Especially if I need to have at least $25 for free shipping on Amazon) :)
These aren't random books that I buy, however. They are titles taken from a section of my computer that I have compiled in a carefully thought over TBB(TO BE BOUGHT) list.
Do you have a TBB list, too?
No? Oh, well, here's how and why I make mine.
When I read about a book that interests me on a blog or website or facebook, etc... I don't want to forget it, so I look it up and save the link in a "new books" folder in my "favorites" section of my computer. **I guess you could call me an online promo author's best friend. Because it works in my case** Then...when I'm ready for some new reading material, I go to Amazon or MyBookStore and More or Harlequin (the three online places I like to order paper and electronic books from), and I have my shopping list already made out and handy.
I rarely go in "cold' to a book store. I know what I'm looking for and snatch it up. Now a library on the other hand, I tend to browse more and become much more adventurous in what I'll pick up and try.
Once I'm in buy-mode, though, I'll order anywhere from 3 to5 books at a shot from my TBB list. And what I order will totally depend on my mood or how long it's been on my list.
Then the day arrives. The books come! (or, if I order ebooks, they're already here!!) And I officially have a TBR(TO BE READ) pile.
So how do I decide what to read first? Well, it depends. But I usually like to start off with one or two books that are in my genre first--just to keep up with what is being published. Personal preference, luck of the draw, but sometimes if it got a good RT review, I'll go with that one first. After that, it really depends on my mood and if I need a genre sorbet or not. (You know, a totally different book to cleanse my reading palate) :)
And basically, THAT, my friends, is how a book goes from a TBB thought to a TBR pile to actually being read. (In my house, anyway)
What's your method of buying books? Actual book store or online? Are you a person who buys a book here and there on a whim, or are you like me and attack a book store with a plan and definitive action?
MOOD STATUS: "Happy". New curtains look fantastic! Pictures coming soon. As soon as I locate my missing camera...
First announcement:The Long and Short of It Reviews is having an Easter Egg Scavenger Hunt this week! Spring is in the air and we invite you to join us on an Easter egg hunt.
There are a total of TEN sets of prizes shared between the sites - and prizes include: $25 Amazon or BN.com Gift Certificate, publisher GCs, eBooks, autographed books, tote bags, Easter baskets filled with goodies, T-Shirts so much more!
It's easy to enter. Each of our author sponsors has hidden an egg on their site -- you earn one entry for every egg you find!
And there are three other ways to enter:
1. If you are not already a member of our Yahoo loop, join now. All Yahoo loop members will earn an entry, just for being a part of our loop.
3. Post about the contest! Email us the link to your post for an additional entry. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ALSO, I was given a chore last week--er, I mean, I was tagged by my blogger bud Kristin Rae to "build my own book boyfriend".
How do you play? Fill out the quiz below, post a picture of a sexy man and tag five (5) other book addicts to do the same. Don't forget to pop to their blogs as let them know they have been tagged! Once tagged... you have do do the same, answer the questions, and keep it rolling! But don't forget the picture of the sexy man! It doesn't have to match your fantasy man, just a little eye candy for the rest of us... heheheee!
1- Hair color and style **I do tend to gravitate toward brown haired men--like below. (Although I did have one hero who is blond in my book that is coming out in October)
This --if you remember--is the man I'm basing my new hero off of. :)
2 - Eye color and facial features
**There's something about dark hair and light eyes. I like that clean shaven yet still "rugged" look. Like Channing Tatem here. :)
Although I did create a hero who had long hair and beard once. (So not my type!)
3 - Height and body type (see interests #7)
4 - Visible age
I do like men my age **cough cough** or older. As in Harrison Ford here. Even with gray hair, he's still got it. :)
5 - Human or other
Um, I do prefer human. Not to be picky or anything, but, well, I don't want to have to sleep with one eye open. :) But that being said, Hugh Jackman in Wolverine was pretty yummy.
6 - Paranormal skills How about Chris Evans as the new Captain America? I think he's a great casting choice!!
7 - Interests I always loved Normar when he was with the Red Sox. (Remember this picture?) He and his wife are so in shape. They deserve each other. Not that I'm bitter...
8 - Habitat How about one from my home state...New Jersey? I think Bruce Willis has the looks and attitude that I find quite attractive.
9 - Special skills
Okay, this is huge for me. I REALLY appreciate a man who can make me LAUGH. Brian Regan (below) is THE funniest man (next to the hubby) that I've ever heard. (And he's kind of cute, too)
Whew! Very eclectic mix, huh?
Hubby was a good sport about this when he saw me perusing various male pictures last night. As I explained to him, it's all "research"--and he knows all my heroes in my writing have little bit him in them. *wink*
So I will now pass this book boyfriend fun to these fellow bloggers--mainly because I think they'll appreciate some blog fodder. :)
IN THE NEWS: Would-be teen robber asks clerk not to tell mom. Read more HERE.
I haven't posted a recipe here in AGES, which is a shame because I've been trying a lot of good ones lately. But I figured it was about time to find some really good quick ones here. Because if you're like me, you like to eat. But again, if you're like me, you don't want to waste a lot of time cooking when you'd rather be writing.
(or reading blogs)
Anyhew... My family and I LOVED this one and it only took 20 minutes. Yes.
20 minutes!!! If you can't spare 20 minutes to whip up a nice meal, you need to loosen up your schedule a bit. :) And it only takes 4 ingredients. Okay, 9 ingredients, but 4 main ones. :)
Here it is:
Cajun Shrimp and Rice (courtesy of the Food Network Magazine)
1 tBsp butter 2 tBsp olive oil 3 gloves garlic, minced 2 tsp Cajun seasoning (I actually used Tony Chachere's creole seasoning). 1 pound large shrimp, peeled & deveined salt & pepper 4 plum tomatoes, chopped 2 bunches scallions, chopped 3 cups cooked rice few tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
Heat the butter, olive oil and garlic in a large skillet over medium-high heat for about 1 minute. Add the Cajun seasoning and shrimp and cook, stirring, until the shrimp begin to curl, about 1 minute. Season with salt and pepper.
Add the tomatoes and scallions to the skillet and cook, stirring, about 1 minute. Add the rice and 1/4 cup water and continue to cook until the rice is warmed through and the shrimp are opaque, about 3 more minutes. Stir in the parsley.
Voila! Makes 4 servings.
My seven year-old gobbled it, clean up was a piece of cake since it was only one skillet, I was adored by my hubby, and in the end I had more time to write.
MOOD STATUS: "Excited". Getting my new bedroom curtains on Friday!
Hey! Happy Wednesday, everyone!
I'm going to the mall with my mom today, so I'll keep this brief. Meaning, even more brief than usual. :)
As I mentioned on Monday, I had a "eureka moment" with my characters and was able to fix my written chapters and even add another part of a chapter as well. Yay.
So here's my progress:
(I designed this cute little progress meter for spring)
Do you see the little rabbit? Look at him go to the right like that!! What a good bunny.
Made some new goals for this week and made myself accountable to my crit group as well. Here they are: 1) write 3,000 words (and/or finish chapter 3) 2) start reading a new book 3) do 2 critiques
I also had to send in a column for my RWA chapter's newsletter this week.
We've decided to do an "ask the author" section with a new question every month posed to the published authors in our chapter.
This month's question was "What's your favorite writing quote?"
Here's a few that we liked:
It's not the destination, it's the journey. ~ Steven Tyler
I try to leave out the parts that people skip. ~Elmore Leonard
I can always fix a bad page. I can’t fix a blank one. ~ Nora Roberts
Love them!
Reading those make me feel even more determined to achieve my writing goal this week. And as soon as I get back from shopping... I'll start. :)
What's your writing goal this week? Do you have a favorite writing quote?
IN THE NEWS: Burglar logs into MySpace on store computer. Read moreHERE.
Hi, everyone! It's so good to be back from my bloggin break! But I have to say I did have a very productive writing week. Yee-haw.(More on that Wednesday)
It took me a while to find my groove, though. Kind of weird as to why. I mean, I had my story. I had my characters. I had their Goal-Motivation-and Conflicts all in place. But something was still...off.
I wasn't completely feeling my characters.
So I did what I did the last time this happened to me: I went picture hunting. :)
It took me a while but this is my new HERO, Tom. Believe it or not, it wasn't easy finding a man with dark hair and blue eyes, who had the right look.
Then I went searching for my HEROINE. I usually gravitate toward redheaded heroines (don't ask me why) but lately they've all been blond.
This is my HEROINE, Celia.
I now have quite a few shots of both of them. I find having pictures of my characters and then placing them out before me as I write really helps me see them more as "real" people.
Once I had them, my writing clicked so much better and I was even able to tighten up their motivations.
As a result, I had THE BEST writing week!!
I know that some writers conduct character 'interviews" to get to know their characters better. In fact, my critique partner has a great list she's posted HERE. I've personally never tried that. I even wonder if it would work for me. Right now, I'm all about the visual aspect.
Anyhew, it's a whole new word goal this week and I'm ready to kick some writing butt now that I'm into my characters.
How do you get to know your characters better? Have you ever used pictures or character interviews?
Oh, what the heck. Here's one more picture of Tom.
MOOD STATUS: "Upbeat". Lost a pound this past week. Woo-hoo! First off I want to say (complain) that I'm sore.
So much so that I really thought I should go to a doctor because my thighs are completely killing me and I'm walking around like a cowboy who's been on a horse too long. NO EXAGGERATION.
My hubby actually asked me yesterday if I was ever going to walk normal again. *sigh* I really don't know.
Why does being healthy have to be so darn painful? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay. Not that that's off my legs--er, chest, I can now announce the winner of Linore Burkard's book. And that person is...
Congrats!! I'm actually going to the post office this morning, so if you shoot me an e-mail with your address, I can get this great book out to you today. Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taking the week off to get some serious writing done before Easter and spring break hits and I have no time. Although I will be checking e-mail and Twitter, so hopefully I won't be completely left out of the loop.
But still, don't do anything too exciting on your blogs this week. :)
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Linore Rose Burkard and Dave Bartlett (Harvest House Publishers) for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Linore Rose Burkard is the creator of "Inspirational Romance for the Jane Austen Soul." Her characters take you back in time to experience life and love during the era of Regency England (circa 1811 - 1820). Fans of classic romances such as Pride & Prejudice, Emma, and Sense & Sensibility, will enjoy Linore's feisty heroines, heart-throb heroes and happy endings.
List Price: $13.99 Paperback: 300 pages Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (January 1, 2010) Language: English ISBN-10: 0736927999 ISBN-13: 978-0736927994
REVIEW: I really enjoyed this book! I'm not a fan of historicals. (I know, you can boo and hiss me.) However, I DO like regency ones. And Ms Burkard's writing totally reminded me of a Jane Austen type of story. I can even picture it as a BBC movie. The characters were all interesting and sympathetic. And although there were a lot of POV changes throughout, it still worked for me. What can I say? In fact, I finished this 287 page book in two days flat! So that tells you something. I liked it so much I now must go and find the book prior to this one, because I'm dying to read "the Paragon's" story. AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
London, England, 1818
Mr. Peter O’Brien felt surely he had a devil plaguing him, and the devil’s name was Mr. Phillip Mornay. The paper in his hand should have made him happy. Indeed, it ought to have elicited nothing but joy after two years of holding a curacy that didn’t pay enough to feed a church-mouse. Yet, instead he was staring ahead after reading a letter of recommendation for him as though he’d seen a ghost.
His previous naval commander, Colonel Sotheby, had recommended Mr. O’Brien to a wealthy landowner whose vicarage had gone vacant. It was the sort of letter that a poor Curate should rejoice over. The man who obtained the vicarage in the parish of Glendover, the Colonel said, in addition to having a decent curate’s salary, would have claim to a large glebe, a generous and well built house, and, in short, would see himself by way of having enough to begin a family. (If he found a wife to marry, first, of course. O’Brien could just hear the Colonel’s good-natured laugh ring out at that remark.)
But still his own mouth was set in an unpromising hard line: The landowner’s name was Mr. Phillip Mornay, none other than the Paragon, himself. And Mornay, Mr. O’Brien knew, would never grant him the living. To do so would go against everything he knew to be true of him. After all, no man who had once overstepped his bounds with Mr. Mornay’s betrothed, as Mr. O’Brien unfortunately had, would now be presented to the vicarage on the man’s lands. Of all the rotten, devilish luck! To have such a letter of commendation was like gold in the fiercely competitive world of the church, where there were more poor curates looking for a rise in their situations than there were church parishes who could supply them.
Therefore, instead of the boon from heaven this letter ought to have been, Mr. O’Brien was struck with a gloomy assurance that Mornay would sooner accept a popinjay in cleric’s clothing than himself. Even worse, his mother agreed with his appraisal.
He had taken the letter into the morning room of their house on Blandford Street, joining his mother while she sat at her breakfast.
“You do not wish to renew old grievances,” she said. “Mr. Mornay is not, to my knowledge, a forgiving man; shall you be put to the expense and trouble of travelling all the way to Middlesex, only to be turned down in the end? What can you possibly gain in it?”
Mr. O’Brien nodded; he saw her point. But he said, “I may have to do just that. The Colonel will never recommend me for another parish if he learns that I failed to apply myself to this opportunity.”
“Write to him,” replied his mama. “See if you can politely decline this honour, with the understanding that any other offer should be most welcome and appreciated!”
He doubted that any letter , no matter how ‘politely’ written, would be able to manage his desire to avoid this meeting with Mornay, as well as secure the hope of a future recommendation. But he thought about it, put quill to paper and sent the Colonel a reply. He asked (in the humblest terms he could manage) if the man might commend him for a living to be presented by some other landowner, indeed, any other landowner, any other gentleman in England than Phillip Mornay.
He could not explain the full extent of his past doings with Mr. Mornay without making himself sound like an utter fool; how he had hoped to marry the present Mrs. Mornay himself, some years ago. How presumptuous his hopes seemed to him now! Miss Ariana Forsythe was magnificent as the wife of the Paragon. He’d seen them in town after the marriage, but without ever presenting himself before her. It appalled even him that he had once thought himself worthy or equal to that beautiful lady.
When the Colonel’s reply came, there was little surprise in it. He assured Mr. O’Brien that his apprehensions were ill-placed; that Mr. Mornay’s past reputation of being a harsh, irascible man was no longer to the purpose. Colonel Sotheby himself held Mornay in the greatest respect, and insisted that the Paragon had as good a heart as any Christian. In short, (and he made this terribly clear) Mr. O’Brien had best get himself off to Middlesex or he would put the Colonel in a deuced uncomfortable spot. He had already written to Aspindon House, which meant that Mr. O’Brien was expected. If he failed to appear for an interview, he could not expect that another recommendation of such merit and generosity would ever come his way again.
Mr. O’Brien realized it was inevitable: he would have to go to Middlesex and present himself to Mornay. He knew it was a vain cause, that nothing but humiliation could come of it, but he bowed to what he must consider the will of God. He knelt in prayer, begging to be excused from this doomed interview, but his heart and conscience told him he must to it. If he was to face humiliation, had he not brought it upon himself? Had he not earned Mornay’s disregard, with his former obsession with Miss Forsythe, who was now Mrs. Mornay?
Prepared to face the interview come what may, Mr. O’Brien determined not to allow Mornay to make quick work of him. He was no longer the youthful swain, besotted over a Miss Forsythe. A stint in the Army, if nothing else, had hardened him, brought him face to face with deep issues of life, and left him, or so he thought, a better man.
******
Aspindon House, Glendover, Middlesex
Ariana Mornay looked for the hundredth time at her younger sister Beatrice, sitting across from her in the elegantly cozy morning room of her country estate, Aspindon. Here in the daylight, Beatrice’s transformation from child to warm and attractive young woman was fully evident . When Mrs. Forsythe and Beatrice had arrived the prior evening, Ariana had seen the change in her sister, of course, but the daylight revealed it in a clarity that neither last night’s flambeaux (lit in honour of their arrival) or the interior candlelight and fire of the drawing room had been able to offer.
Beatrice’s previously brown hair was now a lovely luminous russet. Ringlets peeked out from a morning cap with ruffled lace, hanging over her brow and hovering about the sides of her face. The reddish brown of her locks emphasized hazel-green eyes, smallish mischievous lips and a healthy glow in her cheeks. Beatrice noticed her elder sister was studying her, and smiled.
“You still look at me as if you know me not,” she said, not hiding how much it pleased her to find herself an object of admiration.
“I cannot comprehend how greatly you are altered, in just one year!”
“I regret that we did not come for so long,” put in Mrs. Forsythe, the girls’ mother. She was still feasting her eyes upon Ariana and the children (though the nurse, Mrs. Perler, had taken four year old Nigel, the Mornay’s firstborn, from the room, after he had spilled a glass of milk all over himself minutes ago). “We wished to come sooner, as you know, but Lucy took ill, and I dared not carry the sickness here to you with your new little baby.” At this, she stopped and cooed to the infant, who was upon her lap at the moment.”No, no, no,” she said, in the exaggerated tone that people use when addressing babies, “we can’t have little Miranda getting sick, now can we?”
Ariana smiled. “It matters not, mama. You are here, now. I only wish Papa and Lucy could have joined you.” Lucy, the youngest Forsythe sister, and Papa, had been obliged to stay home until the spring planting had been seen to. Mr. Forsythe did not wish to be wholly bereft of his family, so Lucy, who was a great comfort to him, had been enjoined to remain in Chesterton for his sake.
“I could not bear to wait upon your father a day longer,” she answered with a little smile. “They will come by post chaise after papa has done his service through Easter. And then we will all be together--except for the Norledges. Perhaps when Papa comes, he may bring your older sister and her husband?”
“I would want Aunt Pellham too, in that case,” murmured the blond-haired young woman.
“Oh, my! With your Aunt and Uncle Pellham, and the Norledges, even this large house would be filled with guests, I daresay!” said her mother.
Beatrice was still happily ingesting the thought that Ariana had evidently noticed her womanhood. At seventeen, hers was not a striking sort of beauty—one did not stop in instant admiration upon spying Beatrice in a room, for instance, as had often been the case for Ariana; but the younger girl had no lack of wits, a lively eye and countenance, and, not to be understated, an easy friendliness. Among a group of reserved and proper English young ladies, Beatrice would be the beacon of refuge for the timid; she was welcoming where others were aloof; inquisitive and protective where others looked away.
Nor was she the sort of young woman to glide across a floor, dignified and elegant. Instead, Beatrice was ever having to keep her energy in check; When rising from a chair (her mama had made her practice doing so countless times) she could appear as elegant as the next young woman. She ate nicely, even daintily. But left unchecked, her natural enthusiasm might propel her through a room with alarming speed. Her shawls were ever hanging from her arms, never staying in place over her shoulder; and her mother forbade her from wearing hair jewellery, as it tended to lose its place upon her head. Bandeaux were her lot; besides bonnets, of course.
“It is fortunate that I am only seventeen,” she had said to her mama only last week, while the woman was draping a wide bandeau artfully around Beatrice’s head. “Or I believe you would exile every manner of female head attire from this house, saving turbans! Although my hair holds a curl twice as long as Lucy’s!”
“I should adore a full house of guests,” she said, now. “Please do invite the Norledges’ Ariana! Only think of the diversions we could have; play-acting with enough people to fill all the roles, for a change! Or charades; or even a dance!”
Ariana looked at her sister fondly. “Which dances do you like best?”
“The waltz!” she quickly responded, with a smile to show that she knew it was mischievous to prefer the waltz—the single dance which entailed more contact with the opposite sex than any other ballroom fare. Mrs. Forsythe clucked her tongue, but Beatrice blithely ignored this, taking a peek at her brother-in-law to gauge his reaction, instead. The host of the gathering was reading his morning paper, however, and not listening to the small talk between his wife and her relations.
And relations were virtually all around him. In addition to Beatrice and Mrs. Forsythe, there was his aunt, Mrs. Royleforst, staying with them at the present, and her companion, skinny, nervous Miss Bluford. These two ladies had not appeared yet for breakfast, which was probably on account of Mrs. Royleforst. She found mornings difficult and either slept in, or took a tray in her room.
“What do you think, sir?” asked Mrs. Forsythe, of her host. “Shall my daughter invite the Norledges to join Mr. Forsythe and Lucy when they set out for your house? Or is your home already filled enough for your liking?”
Mr. Mornay looked over his paper enough to acknowledge that he had heard her question. “As it is your and my wife’s family, I think the two of you must decide upon it. As long as there are bed-chambers enough,” he added, looking at Ariana, “you may fill them with guests as you please.”
“Thank you, darling,” she said, making Beatrice stifle a titter. Her sister and her husband were still inordinately romantic, to her mind. Good thing no one else was present save her mother! She would have been embarrassed for them in company.
“Shall I take the baby, mama?” said Ariana, for Miranda was beginning to fuss.
“I suppose she wants to be fed,” agreed her mother. Ariana nodded to a maid who was seated against the wall, who went and received the child from her grandmother and brought her gingerly to her mama. Ariana’s eyes sparkled with happiness as she took her little girl. She murmured to the baby, by turns picking her up and kissing her face, and then just holding her in her arms and gazing at her in loving adoration. “I shan’t feed her yet,” she said. “She isn’t insisting upon it.”
Beatrice’s thoughts were still upon the diversions that would be possible with a large group staying at the house. “If they all come, can you and Mr. Mornay hold a ball, Ariana? Or, will you take me to London this year for the Season? Then I may go to as many balls as I like, and you will not have the expense of holding them!”
“If she takes you to London for the Season,” put in her mama, “she will have a great deal more expense than just that of a ball! Besides which, you are too young for such.”
Beatrice looked at her mama, her enthusiasm temporarily dampened. “But my sister sees I am older, now,” she said, looking at Ariana with a silent plea in her gaze. “And I am not too young for a Season, according to the magazines. Many girls my age do have their coming out, mama!”
“Many gels,” she returned, instantly, “have little sense, and their parents, no better; your papa and I did not allow either of your sisters to go about in society at your age. You have been already too pampered, if you ask me. London society is out of the question!”
Beatrice was now thoroughly dampened in her spirits, but she looked about and settled her eyes upon her brother-in-law. “I daresay Mr. Mornay has seen many a girl of my age--and younger—make their debut during the Season. And to no ill effect! Why, I am sure some of them have made the most brilliant matches! Many a man of good standing prefers a younger lady for his wife. You had ought to let me go while I am young enough to enjoy this advantage.”
Mr. Mornay was frowning behind his newspaper. He knew that his young relation wanted his support in the matter, but Mr. Mornay was assuredly not in the habit of coming to the aid of young women, particularly regarding a London Season. So he said nothing, though an ensuing silence in the room told him the ladies waited for his opinion.
Ariana, who knew better, offered, “Let us discuss it another time. There are months, yet, before the Season. And with Miranda so young, I cannot decide at this point, in any case.”
Beatrice, who had no idea she was treading on dangerous ground, said, “Only let Mr. Mornay tell us his thoughts! I know my mother will listen if you tell her, sir,” she said, directly to him.
He put his paper down reluctantly, and then looked at Beatrice. “I think Ariana was young to face society at nineteen. At your age, you need to be sheltered, not put forth among the wolves.”
Her face fell so entirely, that he almost chuckled at it. “Why are you so eager for a Season?”
She smiled a little. This was better; he was inviting her to explain so that her mother could see the good advantage in it. “I have long lived with the memory of my sister’s tales of her experiences in London;” she said. “She met you there! Her coming out is what brought her to marriage, to Aspindon, to a better life! I have had my fill of Chesterton, I assure you! The prospects for marrying well in that region are as dismal as ever, if not worse;” she said. (Ariana closed her eyes at this; she could hardly bear to hear her sister telling all the reasons Phillip would most despise.) “Why does it seem that all the eligible young men in the county are either in a regiment somewhere, or at sea, or in need of a fortune? I must go to London or Bath, where there are more men one can meet!”
She paused, looking at him earnestly. “I have no fortune, sir, as you are well aware. And with your connexions, I am certain to make very advantageous acquaintances! What could be more certain? I shall end up, no doubt, just as my sister has, with a man like you, sir!” Beatrice evidently thought she was giving him a great compliment. She waited, expecting a gracious answer.
Mr. Mornay stood up, after folding his paper to a neat size. He said, “It takes more than wearing a corset to say a young lady is grown up, would you not agree?” He directed his remark to the whole room, and then settled his eyes upon Beatrice for one second too long, before giving a small bow to the women in general, and turning to leave the room. Beatrice considered his words for a moment. He had rested his eyes on her long enough so that she knew exactly what he meant.
Mr. Frederick met his master at the door, holding out a salver with a letter for Mr. Mornay, who took it but then looked curiously at the butler.
“It arrived in that condition, sir! I daresay it was lost in the mail or some such thing.”
“Hmm, very good, Freddie.” He held up a battered and ink-soiled missive for his wife to see, while eyeing it dubiously.
She looked amused. “Who is it from?”
He unfolded the paper, as the sealing wax was almost entirely worn off already, and scanned the signature at the bottom. “Colonel Sotheby. I’ll read it in my office.” She nodded, and Mr. Mornay left the room.
Beatrice was still smarting from his earlier remark, and said, as soon as he’d gone, “How ‘grown up’ can I be, when I am forced to exist in a small country village, with no prospects, and genteel company only upon a Sunday?”
“You overstate your case! That is not true,” answered her mama, disapprovingly.
“And as for wearing a corset,” Beatrice continued, after taking a sip of tea, “I do not pretend that wearing one is what makes me of age for a Season. I have formed my principles upon sound reason. I have sat beneath the tutelage of my father and of Mr. Timmons, and of his curate, and I should say my principles are well-founded.”
“We are glad to hear it,” Ariana said, with great forbearance, “but really, you should not be setting your mind upon seeking a man like my husband; you should be intent upon finding the man that God has chosen for you.”
“And so I am!” she protested, her eyes wide and laughing. “But look at the advantage He gives me in having you for my sister! Am I to ignore that? When it could be the very means of bringing me and my future husband together?”
Ariana played absently with little Miranda’s blanket, tucking it in about her chin more snugly. She met her sister’s eyes. “London is not the only place a young woman may meet a husband. And if you want my husband’s approval of your plan, the last thing in the world you should tell him is that you want to meet a man like him! Or that you wish to marry above you in any way!” “But is it above me? To marry well? When my sister is Mrs. Mornay of Aspindon House?”
“It is above you,” said her mother, “because you are Miss Forsythe of Chesterton.”
“I am a gentleman’s daughter,” she replied.
“With no dowry to speak of,” said her mama.
Beatrice’s cheeks began to burn. “With a rich and famous brother-in-law!” she said, petulantly.
“That does not signify!” said her mother.
“It does, to me!”
“It should not!” Mrs. Forsythe was quickly growing ashamed of her daughter, and she was relieved that Mr. Mornay had left the room, and was not hearing Beatrice right now. Ariana’s eyebrows were raised and she was doing her best to act as though she had no part in the dialogue.
“But it does, mama!”
“Beatrice! You have already said far too much on this topic, which proves to me your great ignorance of the world.” She held up her hand for silence as Beatrice was about to protest; “Not another word! I shan’t have it, not another word.” Mrs. Forsythe turned her attention to her elder daughter.
“I think I will visit the Nursery to see how Nigel is faring. Do you mind?”
“Of course not! He will enjoy showing you his toys.” She smiled, while her mother rose to leave the room. “I’ll be up myself, shortly, to feed the baby.”
“Very good.” She nodded to her daughter, and then her eye fell upon Beatrice. “I think it would be wise if you said nothing more regarding a Season. In fact, I forbid you to mention it to Mr. Mornay again! Do you understand me?”
“I do, mama.” Beatrice was not happy but she recognized the tone of voice her mother was using. She considered, moreover, that it would be a simple matter to keep from mentioning her hopes to the man, for he evidently would not encourage her in them. But as for herself, she would continue to think of the Season in London. She would continue to hope; and some other day, when Ariana was in a good disposition, she would prevail upon her to sponsor her in London.
Beatrice did not want to seem disrespectful, but she knew that Mr. Mornay was quite in error regarding her. He did not know, for instance, that she was determined to make a good match, and recognized it as her lot in life. Every inch she saw of Aspindon just confirmed her sense that a rich life awaited her. She was born for it. And now all that was necessary was to meet her future husband—the man who could make it all happen. She had long prayed for just such a meeting, and knew that it was bound to occur. All she had to do was be properly outfitted, and in the proper company, for it to do so.
All she had to do was change her sister and brother-in-law’s mind on the matter. How difficult could that be?
This book was sent to me to review and because I enjoyed it so much and would like to introduce this author to others, I will give away my free copy to one lucky commenter.
Comment bewteen now and Sunday 12 midnight (EST) to be entered. I will announce the winner Monday. :) Have a great weekend!
IN THE NEWS: NYC chef creates breast milk cheese. Read moreHERE.
Well, I'm been off to a steady start on my writing this past week, doing a little bit each day--even when I didn't feel like it.
As a result, my first chapter is completed and now I just started my chapter 2. I'm hoping to finish it by the end of this week. Woo-hoo!
Go, me. :)
4109 / 50000 words. 8% done!
Speaking of "go, me", I have some other progress news to report. Running progress news.
I ran my first 5K yesterday! (That's a little over 3 miles.) I ran with the supportive hubby (who is in MUCH better shape than I am). He kept giving me inspiration by shouting out, "Only four blocks left", "your pace looks good" and "I think you can kick it up a notch for this last block".
Like my own personal fitness coach.
But you know what? I was able to do it because of him. (Quite easily I might add) :)
Amazing how much easier it is to run with someone than by doing it on my own!
My writing has been like that, too. My crit group has a weekly writing goal set up. After we write for the day, we all check in and post our progress. We'll slap each other into shape if we don't write as much, but we also cheer each other on if our progress was good.
I've been finding that I've been more disciplined with my writing routine (just like I've been with my exercise routine) if I know I'm accountable to someone other than myself. And this week, I've been hitting a good stride because of it.
What about you? Is anyone cheering you on when you sit down to write? (Or exercise?) :)
MOOD STATUS: "Excited". Meeting with a builder today to talk about putting a deck in our backyard.
Well, this weekend I spent a good chunk of my time "getting to know" my characters.
I knew that my main character was going to have to face deportation from the United States, so needless to say she had to be from a foreign country. Naturally, I immediately thought of England, since I figured that would be the easiest accent to write.
But is it? Is it really?
Actually, I don't think so. There's definitely a lot more to having your character sound British than by just throwing in a bunch of "bloody hells" into their dialogue.
Considering the publisher I'm targeting is actually in England, I knew they would see through my phony accent if I didn't do my research.
In fact, here's an example of a recent submission response I received from them: Keep in mind this office is in London.
We shall read it with close attention and let you know our decision in due course. Please keep a note of the above reference number should there be a query.
Obviously, the writer of this letter was not trying to sound English. But their choice of words definitely clues you in that this company is not American.
Would we say "shall" or "due course" or even "query? NO.
An American company would have said something like this:
We will read it closely and let you know our decision as soon as possible. Please keep a note of the above reference number should you have any questions.
The differences are slight, but it's funny how just a change of a few more commonly used words allows you to hear the accent in your head.
So where do we start?
1) Social Networks! Thanks to the Internet, we now have the ability to go right to the source and find people living in the area or country you want to use. In fact, I have a Facebook friend who lives in Sweden and she is going to help me with a Swedish character I'm writing. :)
2) TV and Movies. Laugh if you must, but if you want you hero to look and sound like Hugh Grant, immerse yourself in listening to him to get the flow and rhythm right.
3) Books and articles. Like I said above, sometimes it's just the subtle use of a few more commonly used words from that region that grants the reader the ability to hear an accent in their head.
Of course we writers have to watch how much dialect we actually put into our writing. Too much and it could be hard to read. This goes for baby talk, too. If you have a toddler or child in your book, you may want to add a little baby talk to make them sound more "real". However, if used constantly, it can really pull a reader out of a story. After all, we want readers to read and not waste time translating!
It looks like I have some more research ahead of me today. :)
Have you written or are you writing a character who has a dialect that's not your own? What do you do to help you write in an accent?
IN THE NEWS:Mass. newlywed couple spend 1st night in jail. Read more HERE.
I actually meant to talk about this weeks ago when I had first read the article of about this new punctuation mark.
Yes, there is a new punctuation mark used exclusively to indicate... sarcasm. :)
The symbol – a dot inside a single spiral line – (seen left) can be installed onto any PC running Windows 7, XP or Vista, as well as Macs and Blackberry mobile devices. It can then be used in Word documents, instant messenger conversations, Outlook email and other programmes, just by pressing Ctrl and the full stop button.
It costs about $2 to download and is designed to be used like an exclamation point or question mark.
"Anyone concerned that the irony of their email or text message might not be appreciated by its recipient can use the symbol to close their sentence, thereby avoiding awkward misunderstandings."
Huh. Well, all I can say about this is...
YES!!!!!
FINALLY!!!!
Oh. Ooops. Sorry. Maybe you all aren't as sarcastic as I am in your e-mails or texts. But it does my heart good to know that my written dry wit won't be lost on people anymore. (Until I actually use this thing and people look at it and go, "Huh?")
But truthfully, I think it's a pretty neat little thing to have. Because if you're like me, you're constantly putting in parentheses "PS. That was sarcasm" in your e-mails. :) So I'm really thinking about downloading it.
Oh, it's Work in Progress time, but due to my trip to Disney (and Facebook), I haven't gotten much done on it.
But guess what?
I've done something--or rather I'm doing something--I've never, well, done before. I'm quitting my story.
Yeah, I know. This is so NOT me. I'm one those stubborn anal retentive types who will stick with a project until the end--even when I can't stand working on it anymore.
But not this time.
To be honest, writing in first person POV is...hard. I found it really limited me, too. And I totally missed writing in my hero's POV. I think all that was bothering me inside and I wasn't enjoying writing as much.
So after reading some really encouraging posts from Joanne's blog at Whole Latte Life and Patti Lacy(thank you, ladies!), I did some soul searching (and praying) and decided to stop fighting what I wanted to do and make myself a happy pappy. So...
I started a new story.
And I feel really happy now! In fact, I feel so comfortable and at home with my writing again that I feel as if I'm putting on my comfy warm bunny slippers and drinking a cup hot of chocolate (the low carb kind because I'm watching my weight since getting back from Disney) But you catch my drift. :)
So I'm back at writing another sweet romance. I'm not saying I'm turning away from my first person POV chick-lit forever... It's just that I need a little more romance in my writing life right now. I missed it! :)
And yesterday I wrote over 1,000 words into it.
So that's what I'm working on this week. In fact, my word goal is 4,ooo, so I'm already 1/4 of the way there!
Have you ever tried a different POV or genre and felt the need to go back to the one you're more comfortable with?
IN THE NEWS: Ala. man attacked with Worcestershire sauce bottle. Read moreHERE.
Well, when I said I would be on a little blogging break, I actually meant a BIG blogging break. :)
First, I had to get ready for vacation. Then I actually was on vacation. And then when I came back, I forgot about my blog. (Which is hilarious, considering my last post was about how much I do not neglect my blog)
Ooops.
Anyway, guess where I was. Go ahead. Guess.
**drumming fingers on on desktop**
Oh, all right I'll tell you. I was in Disney World!!! For the third time in four years
*cough, cough*
I love Walt Disney World, but I can officially say that I am now Disneyed OUT. There are only so many times I can get dragged on the Winnie the Pooh ride. I reached that max.
We had a great time and actually were very fortunate with the weather, since Orlando isn't exactly a hot zone right now. And at least there was no snow.
Anyhew...that's where I was in case you missed my smiling black and white cocked head on your blog posts. :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ But right before I went away, I racked up some serious blog awards! I don't have to give them back because I didn't blog for so long, right? I'll take that as a "No, you do not have to give them back. Don't be silly". Oh, good.
Big hearty thanks to fellow blogging bud, Kim Franklin who snuck not one but TWO blogging awards on me. The Over the Top award and the From Me to You award.
She's a tricky woman. :)
And big shout out to Anne Riley who was so kind to bestow the Sugar Doll Ward to me.
Thanks, Sugar!
And lastly, a big smooch to Catherine Denton for giving me the Happy Award. Which makes me so... happy. :)
Now I will not pass on those awards, but I will pass out a NEW award (because I'm such a rebel and I love the colors in it.) :)
The Butterfly Award.
This is a meme award and the rules for passing it on are:
1. Put the logo on your blog . 2. Add a link to the person who awarded you. 3. Award up to ten other blogs. 4. Add links to those blogs on yours. 5. Leave a message for your awardees on their blogs.
Yes, the Butterfly Award for those blogs that are so cool that my eyes get frostbite each time I read one of their cool posts. Yes, I'm exaggerating slightly. :)
Please do not be offended because the English on this award is so... not good. LOL
I am a multi-published sweet romance author for Avalon Books and Samhain Publishing. I also love the Red Sox and have been on a serious exercise kick. But don't hold those against me. :)
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