Regency Bad Boys by Kryssie Fortune #Regency #romance

WICKED WEDNESDAY

Please welcome Kryssie Fortune to Wicked Wednesday. There's something about those bad boys of the Regency Era, don't you think? 

Did you know that Horatio Nelson scandalized Regency London? Like most readers, I love a bad boy. 

He came to fame at the Battle of St Vincent. Breaking ranks, he led the boarding party on the San Nicolas. His battle cry was “Westminster Abbey or Glory.” As the battle progressed, he captured a second ship, the San Josef. 

Rather than reprimand him, the admiralty made him rear admiral of the blue. 

He was as tough as he was self-confident. He lost sight in his left eye while fighting the French. Four years later, a musket ball shattered his right arm. His crew rowed him back to his ship, but he refused to let them help him board. “Leave me alone,” he cried. “I have got my legs left and one arm.” 

The ships surgeon amputated his arm. Rather than argue, Nelson insisted, “The sooner the better.”  

Within half an hour, he was giving orders to the crew. 

This man tops the hero list, but he had a wicked side. 

Everything changed when he met Emma, Lady Hamilton. A blacksmith’s daughter, she wed her lover’s uncle, Sir William Hamilton. In 1791 she threw a ball for Nelson. All 1740 guests commented on how much Nelson loved her. Thus began one of history’s most notorious ménage à trois. 

Emma and Sir William sailed for England. Nelson traveled with them and bought them a home in Merton Place, London. Society gasped when he moved in too. Ten months later, Emma gave birth to his daughter, Horatia.

His wife, Fanny, demanded he choose between her and Emma. Nelson response must have horrified her. “I love you sincerely but I cannot forget my obligations to Lady Hamilton or speak of her otherwise than with affection and admiration.”

The two never lived together again.Nelson died during the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. Before the battle, he sent his famous message, England expects every man to do their duty.He never got his grave in Westminster abbey his battle cry demanded. Instead, the ships surgeon preserved his body in a vat of Brandy. Once back in England, Nelson was given a hero’s grave in St Paul’s Cathedral, London. 

The hero of my latest books is another Regency bad boy. He lost his lower left leg at Waterloo. His father disinherited him, leaving him penniless. Desperate, he turned the home he’d inherited from his grandparents into a “House of Fun.” The ton visit there with their lovers. My story starts when his father finally summons him home.

THE VISCOUNT'S PET

When her brother tries to force her into a marriage with a detestable baron, Julianna Halstead flees the family estate she has helped manage since the death of her parents. But as she makes her escape late at night, Juliana's carelessness nearly results in her being trampled by a galloping horse, and the steed's handsome rider takes it upon himself to correct her right then and there.

Though having her bottom bared and soundly spanked on the side of the road leaves Juliana blushing crimson, the punishment arouses her intensely and her body's helpless response cannot be hidden. To make matters worse, the gentleman over whose lap she was so firmly chastised turns out to be none other than Viscount Stonehurst, someone she has known since childhood.

When Stonehurst learns of Juliana's predicament, he decides to make her his bride. She will be no ordinary wife, however. She will be something much more shameful. But even as she is leashed, collared, and put on display in a cage wearing only a tail, then brought out to be used in ways no proper lady should enjoy, will Juliana come to love her new life as the viscount's pet?

Publisher's Note: The Viscount's Pet is a stand-alone novel which shares the Regency-era setting of Wickedly Used and His Innocent Bride. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book.

Get your copy of Kryssie's book here: https://www.amazon.com/Viscounts-Pet-Kryssie-Fortune-ebook/dp/B07YQWN83W

See all of Kryssie Fortune's books here: https://www.amazon.com/Kryssie-Fortune/e/B00J5AQOBU/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

The French and the English: Their Troubled Relationship in Regency Romance By Eleanor Webster

MUSE MONDAY

I wish I'd paid more attention to history in school. Eleanor makes it fun today!

I have always loved history. I spent much of my childhood imaging myself in gorgeous gowns while stomping about in the clothes my mother ‘made me wear’. I know real life wasn’t very glamorous – but in my imagination… The Regency Period has always been of particular interest, likely due to a youthful over- indulgence in Georgette Heyer.

However, in addition to Heyer, this period fascinates because it is a society in the throes of change. During my first novel, No Conventional Miss, I focused on the emergence of innovation connected with the Industrial Revolution. My protagonist creates several inventions, including a butter churn. By the way, current historians now recognize the scientific contributions of some amazing women! Three cheers for Sarah Guppy inventor of the tea or coffee urn, which also cooked eggs and warmed toast. Oh yes, and she also figured out a way to keep barnacles off ships.

My new book, Married for His Convenience, is set slightly earlier during the French Revolution.  This era has also always fascinated me; those wonderful ideals which so soon dissolved into blood thirsty chaos. Married for His Convenience touches on that time period and explores its impact on a family touched by its violence.

The French Revolution greatly impacted English society. More than 40,000 French refugees came, many arriving with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Never reluctant to turn tragedy into a high society event, Victims’ Balls were thrown. When a gentleman entered the party, he would bow his head as if presenting it to the guillotine while women wore red ribbons about their necks to symbolize spilled blood.

Not surprisingly, the French and American Revolutions frightened the British upper classes that were somewhat attached to their heads. This made the British even more hesitant to improve the life of the working poor or change the electoral system.

The society of the time is also a fascinating study in French/English relations, which is another intriguing topic. My mother, staunchly middle-class from Sheffield, England, was never a tremendous fan of the French language or culture. As an adolescent, I found this surprising. Had France and England not been allied during two world wars? Moreover, thanks to Georgette Heyer, I knew that every educated person had to speak French with fluency. Therefore, I was surprised when my own attempts at French conjugations were met by a muffled grunt by my maternal unit.

However, the British and their relationship with French language and culture has historically been influenced by class.  During regency times and beyond, the aristocracy adored the French language, art, fashion, food, wine, furniture. Indeed, the fact that the two countries were at war between 1793 and 1815 (except for a brief truce in 1802), did nothing to lessen this fascination.

In contrast, the British populace, the poor and growing middle class, were strongly anti-French. This attitude was fueled less by the enemy and more perhaps by the French fascination of their own aristocracy. Therefore, my personal theory is that this sentiment continues, perhaps even to this day, and certainly influenced my own mother, grounded as she was in Yorkshire commonsense and middle-class practicality.

As for me, the unraveling of societal mores and influences throughout the ages make the study of history even more fascinating.

About Eleanor Webster 

Eleanor Webster loves high-heels and sun, which is ironic as she lives in northern Canada, the land of snowhills and unflattering footwear. Various crafting experiences, including a nasty glue-gun episode, have proven that her creative soul is best expressed through the written word.

Eleanor is currently pursuing a doctoral degree in psychology and holds an undergraduate degree in history and creative writing. She loves to use her writing to explore her fascination with the past.

Connect with Eleanor

Website: https://eleanorwebsterauthor.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ewebsterauthor

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Eleanor-Webster/1457032624594046?fref=ts/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/eleanorwebs0086/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/eleanorwebsterauthor

Married for His Convenience

Tainted by illegitimacy, plain Sarah Martin has no illusions of a grand marriage. So when the Earl of Langford makes her a proposal that will take her one step closer to finding her half sister, she can't refuse!

Sebastian's dreams of romance died with his late wife's affair, so now he needs a convenient wife to act as governess for his silent daughter. Yet Sarah continues to surprise and challenge him, and soon Sebastian can't deny the joy his new bride could bring to his life—and into his bed!

Available November 22, 2016

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2cEzUzW

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2cm9jJB

Nook: http://bit.ly/2cm8oZN

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2cNcokR

iBooks: http://apple.co/2eUcoAs

ADVENTURES IN DRIVING by Mary Gillgannon

FEARLESS FRIDAY

I love Fearless Friday. Mary has a fun story for us so read on!

When we decided we needed a rental car on our trip to Ireland and Wales, both my husband and I presumed he would be the driver. After all, he’s been driving since he took his mom’s car joyriding at age ten. For many years he had a commercial driver’s license and in the early years of our marriage, he drove trucks for his jobs.

But all those credentials didn’t prepare for him for the reality of driving on the wrong side of the road while seated on the wrong side of the car. We’d only gone a few blocks after picking up our rental car in Wales when he scraped the side of the car maneuvering through one of the crowded, narrow streets. Appalled, he pulled over and said, “I can’t do this.” So we switched places and I became the driver.

I really had no choice. The only other person in the car was our son, who was only 18 and not legally old enough to drive a rental car. And we knew we were already in trouble with the rental agency because of the long scratch on the side of the car. So, with knuckles white on the steering wheel, I maneuvered out of the narrow lane, found the main highway and we headed off.

It took all my concentration at first, and I could barely even risk a glance as we passed Conwy Castle or dare more than a glimpse of the ocean as we followed the coast. The lush green hills and picturesque mountain vistas I’d come to see also passed by in a blur. And I’m sure I left some swearing drivers in my wake. I drove slowly and cautiously, and hesitated at more than a few turns and roundabouts (more on those later). But I got us to our destination, and from then on I was the driver.

A few days later, we took the ferry to Ireland and met up with my husband’s brother and his girlfriend, but my driving tasks weren’t over. My brother-in-law has poor peripheral vision and didn’t feel comfortable driving. And his girlfriend, although experienced at driving “on the wrong side of the road”, wasn’t very enthused about driving. After all, she’d come on this trip to relax. So once again, that left me. I now had a whole carload of people to help me navigate. And it took all of them to get us out of Dublin, with its one way streets, streets that seem to go in circles, crazy traffic and highway construction. But once outside of Dublin, I discovered something even more daunting:  roundabouts. 

There had been a few roundabouts in Wales, but it’s a fairly rural country and I could at least catch my breath in between them. In Ireland it seemed like every intersection was a roundabout or, worse yet, a double roundabout. I approached each one with a sense of growing panic and confusion. And the whole carload had to coach me through them and tell me exactly where to turn. Even then, there were plenty of times when I turned in the wrong place and we had to backtrack. They finally convinced me that if I missed the turn I should just go around again and try to catch it the second time. For a while I had nightmares about driving endlessly around in a circle in a roundabout.

But we all survived and it was a wonderful trip in every other respect. And I did get better. With the result that when I went to England and Wales with my daughter a few years later, I planned an itinerary that included driving in and out London, navigating the narrow, serpentine streets of Cardiff during rush hour and a horrendous experience in

Reading where we followed the main “dual carriageway” in a circle around the city about a dozen times. We asked for directions in three different places, but were still hopelessly lost. It’s quite possible we would still be trapped there, going around and around, if a kind stranger hadn’t taken pity on us. He told us to follow him in his car, then literally stopped and got out and said “turn here” (while pointing) when we reached the road we needed to take to our hotel.

I’ve since driven on two more trips to Scotland, Wales and Ireland. I really feel I’m getting much better. I sail through roundabouts and only take the wrong turn and get lost about a third of the time. People are always amazed that I can do it. My secret is that I’m not an intuitive driver, which means I always have to focus very hard to figure out where I am in regards to other vehicles. So, driving in the UK just means concentrating a little more intensely. I’m also highly motivated. In these trips, I’m always on the way to some magical destination that I’ve dreamed of seeing, and if the only way I can get there is by driving, then that’s what I’ll do!

Mary’s next book is a Regency historical to be released on May 6^th.

Pre-order from Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/ B00VU8L64K

 You can connect with Mary here:

Website:  http://marygillgannon.com

Blog: http://marygillgannon.blogspot.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/mary.gillgannon

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/MaryGillgannon

A Teaser and a Taste: Book Two

MUSE MONDAY

Writing murder mysteries is all in a day's work until an obsessed fan brings Phoebe's stories to life.

My long awaited (to me anyway) release date for book two in my Love and Murder Series is right around the corner. Southwest of Love and Murder will release worldwide on January 7, 2015. You met Phoebe Anderson, best friend of Lacy Dahl, in The Art of Love and Murder. She and Lacy seem as different as night and day so I think you'll enjoy a deeper tread into Phoebe's life as a mystery writer. You heard mention of Chance's twin brother, Mason, in book one. What happens when Phoebe and Mason come together with murder right behind them is the story in Southwest of Love and Murder.

Mystery writer, Phoebe Anderson, owes her success to killing her first husband on paper seventeen years earlier. Now, someone has actually done it. When she decides to take a few days away on the ranch of her best friend’s brother-in-law, she doesn’t expect romance to find her...or murder to follow her.

Mason Meadowlark is happy with his wild cowboy ways, avoiding love since the death of his baby and the end of his marriage twenty years ago. When Phoebe shows up, he fights to control his emotions, but soon wonders if she just might be worth the risk of opening his heart again.

With an obsessed fan close on her heels, Phoebe is thrown into her own murder mystery…and the next target on his list is Mason.

Excerpt: 

Phoebe shuddered and stilled.

Like the aftershocks of an earthquake, trembling overtook her body. Her knees wobbled, but Mason caught her before she collapsed.

“What’s wrong?” He hugged her briefly then brought his face even with hers. “Phoebe, tell me. Why are you shaking? What’s happened?”

“Oh my God, Mason.” She spread her hands on his chest and glanced back at the bathroom. “Tell someone to call an ambulance. Hurry!”

He took a step toward the ladies’ room, but she grabbed his shirtfront. “No!” She peered around him and shouted. “Someone call nine one one.”

Mason touched his pocket. “My cell’s in the truck.” He grabbed the shoulder of a male customer, the closest person to them. “You got a cell on you?”

The man nodded and pulled a phone from his pocket.

“Call nine one one right now. There’s been…” His face questioned her.

“Someone’s badly hurt in the bathroom. Oh hell, hurry!” She thumped her palms against his chest.

The man pulled out his cell as he raced into the ladies’ room.

Phoebe wrapped her arms around Mason, tipped her chin upward, and found the words. “It’s that

waitress, Mason. Carla.”

His expression went blank, from concern for her to no comprehension.

“There’s so much blood.” She stifled a gag, the sweet, copper penny reek still heavy in her nostrils. “Her throat.” A shudder rippled the length of her body. “I think she’s dead.”

If you've put off reading The Art of Love and Murder, make it a holiday treat for yourself. You can order print or eBook on line everywhere but here are a couple of quick links for you:

Amazon

The Wild Rose Press