Sunday, May 31, 2020

A British Heiress in America Cover Debut!

I don't know about you, but one of my pet peeves when it comes to covers is when the hero and heroine on the cover in no way resemble the hero and heroine in the book. And any author out there who fills out a cover art info sheet for a publisher or who is responsible for putting together their own cover, knows how hard it is to get the image you've been living with in your head for months or years to translate onto the cover.

For the cover of the first book in my new Revolutionary War series, I am lucky enough to work with a publisher who allows me to have a say in what pictures I want to consider. I have spent hours on the various images for sale sites, culling through thousands of pictures to find just the right one. I found a picture that I really liked, but the heroine is a blonde. She plays well against the dark and brooding hero, but my heroine had dark hair. I asked the cover artist to change the hair color. The only problem was the hair style on the lady was so complex and there were so many wisps going in every direction that it became impossible to change. So we decided to do the obvious and change her hair color in the book from dark to light. A simple Find and Replace did the trick and voila! My heroine is now a blonde. The book will be released on June 25. Here's the cover, for your viewing pleasure:



And, here's an excerpt:

Off the Coast of England, 1775

The minute the ship began to move out of the docks, Pippa’s courage faltered, as if it took a swan dive over the railing and began dog paddling toward the pilings. The shores of her home country faded in the distance, along with her ability to change her course. She desperately wanted a cheroot but couldn’t light up and give herself away even if she had one. Instead, she curled up between the water barrels and closed her eyes, hoping her stomach would settle if she didn’t witness the rocking of the ship. She let the up and down motion lull her into a stupor.
“Blimey! What ‘ave we here?” One of the crew of the Gladys Maria jostled a barrel away, exposing Pippa’s hiding place. She fell backward, hitting her head on the deck, the sun blinding her. She winced, at both the crack to her head, and at the harsh sunlight. One hand shielded her eyes, the other cradled the back of her head, leaving her body exposed.
A swift kick in Pippa’s ribs made her yelp in pain. She curled into a ball, but meaty hands grabbed at her and forced her to her feet. She doubled over and grabbed her midsection, retching.
“Well, iffen it ain’t a little stowaway.” The deckhand laughed as he grabbed the back of Pippa’s shirt and tugged her upright. “Cap’n will not be pleased to see the likes of you.”
Pippa swallowed her bile and struggled as the man grabbed her trousers as well as the nape of her shirt and half-carried her below deck. “I can walk by meself, guv’ner.” She intentionally lowered her voice, but still it sounded more like a socialite than a boy to her ears. Could she pull this off? Her limbs were shaking so badly she wasn’t at all certain she could walk by herself.
He dropped her to the floor once they got below deck but still kept a hand at the nape of her shirt, bunching the fabric in his large hand. “So, walk then, laddie.” He shoved her forward, and she stumbled, but kept her balance.
He’d called her a lad. She blew out a breath. At least one man bought her disguise.
“Where to?” As if she had a say in the matter.
He grabbed her arm and hurried their pace. “To the captain’s quarters. That’s where we take all the stowaways.”
She trembled but wrenched her arm away from his grasp. “How many of us are there?”
“Yer the first one I’ve come across this trip, but there’ve been others.” She glanced at the deckhand. His grizzly face was bearded, his sneer revealed a shiny gold tooth, and his matted hair fell to his shoulders. He made her insides quake. Definitely, he was the most fearful person she’d ever come into contact with. “’Tis a pity we’re so far out to sea already. We coulda just tossed you back into the harbor a couple hours ago.”
Pippa couldn’t stop the full body tremor that pulsed through her. She didn’t know how to swim. Young ladies of the Ton didn’t partake in such foolishness. She took a deep breath and faced forward. Not being able to swim was the least of her concerns right now. She had an appointment with the captain, and her fate awaited.
The gnarly deckhand stopped in front of a door and knocked once.
            “Enter.”
He opened the door and shoved Pippa inside before he followed.
“I was just about to crack open one of them water barrels when I found this mongrel, hiding in the middle.” He clutched her arm again.
As if she could have escaped this small room, with the deckhand standing in front of the door and the captain staring at her as if she were a bug he wished to squash. She held her breath.
“Nice work, Ben. Leave the boy here. I’ll decide what to do with him.” The captain rounded his desk and continued to stare at her. She stared back. English society had thus far limited her to dancing in ballrooms and charming various titled gentlemen, and she was ill-equipped to deal with the likes of the rugged-looking captain. His face was tanned, his body muscled, and altogether, he was the most handsome man she’d ever met. His jawline could slice paper, his blue eyes matched the sea.
Pippa expelled a breath, feeling the walls of the cabin close in. She’d never been alone in a room with a man before. Of course, her first experience would have to be with the most handsome man ever, and she in disguise as a boy. A disguise she needed to keep up for the duration of the voyage. In the ballroom, members of the Ton applauded her using her feminine wiles on a man, but in this case, those tools would not work. She couldn’t charm her way out of her situation.


Pippa is one of my favorite heroines of all time. She steals cheroots wherever she can, and is a bit of an impetuous person. I like to think I'd have done the same, had I been living during those days. I hope this excerpt has intrigued you, and that you'll order your copy when it is released. 

Sunday, May 24, 2020

Nose to the Grindstone

It's been raining here for four days now. My little swing out back is totally waterlogged, so Mary and I have been forced to stay indoors. Which is good for getting things done. I finished proofing the galley for A British Heiress in America, wrote 1,000 words a day on the ghostwriting job, and completed my required number of articles for the internet. Things started dropping off my to-do list left and right.


I start each Sunday by creating a to-do list for the week. This includes things relating to my writing life, as well as personal things, like writing thank you notes and dropping things off at the post office. This morning, when I came up with my to-do list, it seemed short. Instead of reveling in the fact I had little that needed accomplished this week, I added another item. And then one after that. Somehow, working under pressure makes the jobs get done faster. I need to wrap the final story in the Revolutionary War series, finish the ghostwriting job, and write my prescribed number of articles. And when I finish those little chores, there's the other low-hanging fruit hanging so close and tempting me daily.

We'll see how it goes. The quicker I can get things done, the more time I'll have for the new project.



Sunday, May 17, 2020

The Lockdown Continues

Even though some of the restrictions in my state have been lifted, I am old enough to know better than to run out to a bar with no mask on and start partying. I'll stay at home a bit longer, thank you.

To make things easier, my birthday was this past week, and by a combination of gifts, I was able to purchase a free-standing swing for my back yard. The directions said it would only take 30 minutes to assemble and my handyman was out of town, so I thought I'd give it a go.

I ended up disassembling and reassembling it twice, since if there was a way to put things together backwards I found it. But I did it! Instead of thirty minutes, it took five days, but here it is:


From my new swing, my dog Mary and I can watch the golfers as they come by. My condo sits at the ladies' tee box of the 11th hole of the course, so we watch the golfers line up, critiquing their swings and their outfits. 

Somehow, staying at home just got a whole lot easier. Mary loves being outside, and I can get away from the computer screen for a while and read someone else's work. Until the weather changes and gets cold again, I'm all for continuing the lockdown from my swing. I hope you can find a way to relax and take in some fresh air, too.

Sunday, May 10, 2020

Welcome to the 70s!

My brother and I were chatting a week or so ago, and he mentioned he was planning a cross-country road trip. His reasoning was because gas prices haven't been this low in ages. As he put it, "Gas is down to $1.50 a gallon and my hair's longer than it's been in years. Welcome to the 1970s."

Well put. The Age of Aquarius is upon us. The only thing missing is the Flower Children in Golden Gate Park. We're still a ways off from mass spontaneous crowd gathering.


I sometimes wonder if we'll ever return to the age of incense and peppermints. While I continue to hold out hope, I'll continue to hold my breath as well. In the meantime, I'll lose myself in the Revolutionary War, the western expansion, and a Steven King horror story. And venture out in my Survivor buff only when necessary. 

Sunday, May 3, 2020

Jumping Through Generations

I am usually a very linear writer. One book at a time, one scene at a time, always in logical sequence. Lately, though, I've been anything but linear and logical. Right now, I'm spending my time reworking a Mail Order Bride book set in the 1850s, winding up  my Revolutionary War trilogy set in the 1780s, and kicking around a contemporary seasoned romance, set in present day. As I jump from one project to another, I have to continually reset my brain to the era in which I'm writing. It's been challenging, but never boring. I picture myself wearing a cowboy hat, a tricorn hat, and a face mask, in order to get into the right mind set.

And, as for writing in sequence, that's flown out the window, too. A good writer friend, who writes scenes as she thinks of them and then puts them in sequence, advised me recently that I need to go back and work in some more scenes on the Rev War book. Which means writing out of sequence, since I was already wrapping the story up in my head. She was right, but it meant going back to the middle and adding in some layers, some scenes, to strengthen the story line. Talk about jumping off the precipice! My first attempt at adding a scene between what had already been written worked out well enough, but can I do it again?

We shall see.

How about you? Are you a linear writer or a scene writer? If you're not a writer, what type of reader are you? Do you read one book at a time, or do you have multiple books going simultaneously? I'm dying to hear.