What Kind of Reader Are You?

When I read reviews, either for my books or for those written by other authors, I’m struck by the individuality of everyone’s reader personality. Our reading styles are as different as our reading tastes.  And I’m not just talking about the Real Book vs. E-book debate.  (In case you’re interested, most of the time, I come down enthusiastically on the side of the paperback book–I love the tactile nature of reading.) A reader’s personality is defined by so many other things.

If I had to use one word to describe my reading style, I’d probably say ‘laid-back.’  For one thing, I am not an urgent, desperate reader.  Even if I’m loving the book I’m reading, I do not, under any circumstances, stay up till 2:00 a.m. to finish the book.  When it’s bedtime, I settle on a stopping point, and look forward to reading a little more the next day.  As a result, busy days mean a single book might take me a week and a half or two weeks to finish.  But that means I have that many more days to enjoy that particular book.

IB413_AustenI often tuck a book in my purse on the off chance that I’ll have an occasion to read while away from home.  But I’ll only read if I think I can give the book my full attention. Voices distract me–my conscious mind tends to follow a conversation going on beside me, making it difficult for me to maintain my concentration.  I have to be completely wrapped up in a book in order for my mind to block out the world around me, and that doesn’t happen very often.  So I tend to save my reading for quiet, unrushed moments.

I think the vast majority of readers are anxious to get right to the action, but I admit to being one of those people who doesn’t mind a slow buildup.  I enjoy reading detailed character sketches–those quirky details that bring the characters alive in your imagination–and even a bit of gossipy backstory.  Jane Austen accomplished this beautifully.  While I know some readers prefer not to have a character’s appearance described, preferring instead to picture each character in their own way, I love the descriptions, love seeing the characters as the authors imagined them.  I don’t ever picture celebrities or people I know while I’m reading, although I definitely do that when I’m writing.

I don’t skim or look ahead, and I hardly ever try to predict where the plot is headed.  I also don’t second guess the ending.  I am content, simply to read, to let the author take me where she will and just enjoy.  It is very rare that I don’t finish a book, and a particularly eloquent sentence, or a bit of clever dialogue so impresses me that I will read it over several times.  When I first started writing, I kept a journal of ‘good words’–little used words I discovered in novels I was reading.  Words I wanted to use myself.  I still look for those in the books I read.  I love reading the dedication, acknowledgements, and author’s notes too!

I discover most of the books I read online, via social media or while browsing on Amazon.com.  Occasionally I’ll notice one at the bookstore that strikes my fancy, but not nearly as often.  I rarely get recommendations from friends.  I’m one to judge books by their covers, and I’d estimate that about 80% of the time, my cover love is justified: I end of loving the book.  I am also swayed by editorial reviews (Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, Booklist, etc.), and I find that when a book is described as a ‘tour de force,’ or a ‘triumph,’ I’m avidly curious about it.

I like to read books with happily-ever-afters.  Or at least happily-till-month’s end, before the crazy starts all over again.  I like there to be charm, and wit, and humor.  That’s not to say that I won’t read other books, but they won’t be my favorites, and most bestsellers are of no interest to me at all.  Am  I a quirky reader?  Who knows?  Let’s compare notes.

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Will you stay up late if a book has you riveted?

Do you carry a book with you wherever you go?

Do you like an author to describe a character’s physical appearance?

Do you skim? Predict? Abandon stories unfinished?

What distinguishes your reading style?

Images via Jane Mount.  I LOVE these!

P&P200: Lady Catherine’s Son-in-Law

Au Au Lady c marriage

 

In her return to Pemberley, with the excitement and business attendant on the weeks leading up to her lying-in, Elizabeth had rather naturally forgotten to think about Lady Catherine de Bourgh. It was not the pleasantest prospect, and having been exposed to rather too much of the lady’s arrogance and her dictatorial ways during the London sojourn, Elizabeth might be forgiven for a powerful wish that she not be required to be in the company of her husband’s aunt again for some considerable span of time.

Darcy’s feelings were not widely different. He knew his duty to his family and his connections; he wished that all related to him should be happy and respectable, as far as possible. Yet there is no denying that time spent in his aunt’s company was penitential. That was why, on the annual courtesy visits to Rosings that could not be avoided without endless remonstrations and repercussions, he had always made sure to travel with his cousin, the equable Colonel Fitzwilliam, whose calm, judicious presence did much to make the visits endurable.

au au lady c marriage landscape

Having attended to his obligations, as he felt, by escorting Lady Catherine and her daughter to London, and going through the comedy and charade of that not-so-young lady’s presentation at court, Darcy was disposed to be glad to see the back of them both, and to retire to the peace and happy domesticity of his own portion of paradise, with Elizabeth at Pemberley.

Both Darcy or Elizabeth had been troubled, on the London visit, to notice an obvious adventurer, Maurice Townley, hovering about Lady Catherine and her daughter, and Darcy had done what he could about it. He had taken pains to discover who Townley was, and to warn his aunt about him in the strongest terms. There was no more to be done: both Lady Catherine and Anne were of age and sound mind, and ought to be proof against fortune hunters. When the news came, taking wings as such gossip always does, that Maurice Townley had followed his new friends to Rosings and was making an extended visit there, Darcy had shrugged his shoulders, fired off one last letter to his aunt, counseling caution, and let the matter rest there.

To try to dictate to Lady Catherine, was surely an exercise in futility, and Darcy would have no part of it. If she liked to be a fool and entertain a fortune-hunter in her own house, Darcy could only thank Heaven that he was not the master of that house. He was not called upon to be politely indifferent to the sight of Maurice Townley filling his belly with an autumn’s worth of fine dinners at Rosings. If the prattle and flattery of a fop was the entertainment Lady Catherine required and was willing to pay for, it was outside Darcy’s purview.

Nor was it wonderful that his entire mind and heart were taken up with other concerns, as the time approached for his wife’s first accouchement. And on a crisp autumn day, when those leaves that by nature turned into soft red and gold colours were displaying themselves to full advantage, the event was accomplished. After some anxious hours, which Darcy never cared to remember in after years, his first son was put into his arms, a fine healthy red-faced chap, held wrapped in a cocoon of blankets by Mrs. Reynolds, whose heartfelt look of delight was only a reflection of Darcy’s own.

au au lady c marriage birth

“A fine fellow, sir, and eight pounds if he’s an ounce!”

“Only eight pounds?” he exclaimed. “Is that not small?”

“It’s a fine weight in children!” Georgiana answered, from Elizabeth’s bedside.

“He seemed extremely large to me,” came Elizabeth’s voice wearily from behind the curtains.

Darcy turned pale, and hastily handed the infant back to Mrs. Reynolds. “May I see her?” he asked the doctor hoarsely.

“Certainly, sir. Your wife is doing as well as any healthy young woman in like circumstance may be expected to do, and you may visit with her for a few moments if you take care not to tire her,” said the doctor, pulling aside the curtains. “We may safely leave them alone for a little,” he nodded to Georgiana, Mrs. Reynolds, and the weekly nurse, and they filed out, to attend to Master Fitzwilliam’s first washing.

What raptures and tears of relief the young couple shared, we may leave for their privacy and our imagination; but certain it was that Elizabeth made a steady improvement, growing stronger day by day, and not suffering any of the dangerous after-effects only too often attendant on confinements, in houses both great and small.

au au lady c marriage baby

So rapid was her recovery, that she was up for breakfast after only ten days in bed, sitting at table opposite her husband, smiling into his eyes over the buttered-eggs, chops, and toasted bread.

“The little man is asleep,” Elizabeth announced. “Nurse thinks he may sleep all night in another week or so. It is hard to believe, given the size of Pemberley, that he can be heard all over the house.”

“That he can,” said Darcy admiringly. “Clear to Lambton, I’m sure.”

Letters were brought in, and the young Darcys perused them rather negligently.

“From Jane,” observed Elizabeth, “she hopes to come and see the prodigy before the weather turns cold. I know she wanted so much to be here, only little Eliza was teething.”

“Mm,” said Darcy absently.

“Darcy! What are you reading? I don’t believe you heard a word I said. Who is my rival now? Your man of business?”

Darcy laid down his letter. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” he said deliberately. “Herself.”

“Lady Catherine! And what can she have to say?”

“Only some very aweful news, to be sure.”

Elizabeth saw by his expression that something really was amiss. “Well?” she asked quietly.

“Anne marries Mr. Townley.”

au au lady c marriage gownElizabeth gasped. “She didn’t! She couldn’t! Lady Catherine would never allow it.”

“Yes she did though. By this account, it is already concluded. He was at Rosings long enough to be married as a member of the parish, and Mr. Collins made no objection, and performed the ceremony himself.”

“Anne married! But – is he not penniless? With they live at Rosings? Will Lady Catherine lose her daughter?”

“I can hardly tell about these matters, Elizabeth. The letter is little more than an announcement of the fact. But your curiosity will not be racked for long.”

“What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.

“They mean to come to Pemberley for their wedding-journey.  Newlyweds, Lady Catherine and all.”

Elizabeth fell back limply in her seat with astonishment.

“I have made you ill! Let me fetch you water – I will ring for your maid.”

“No, no, nonsense, Mr. Darcy. I am not such a frail creature as that. Only I did think we were safe from your aunt for a sixmonth at least,” she complained.

“No such thing, apparently. They were leaving at once, and will, I reckon, be here – tomorrow. Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Mr. and Mrs. Maurice Townley. By heaven!”

“Not by heaven at all,” his wife replied tartly.

“Well, at least you will be out of the mischief. We shall say you are still in confinement by doctor’s orders, and must not be disturbed.”

“Are you mad?” she said incredulously. “Lady Catherine is perfectly capable of marching into my sick-room, and inspecting the nursery with the bride in tow, rigged up in satin – and such a bride!”

“All very well for you,” her husband returned. “I will have Maurice Townley to my share.”

Elizabeth lifted up her fine dark eyes.

“He can fish. I’d not put him on one of my mounts for a fortune,” he said grimly.

au au lady c marriage trees

A cry was heard from above and both parents smiled.

“I must go feed him,” said Elizabeth importantly. “You may come upstairs with me if you like.”

“If you’re certain I won’t be in the way,” he said diffidently. “I must say the sight of you with the boy is the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I think you had better. We are not likely to have time for such private joys after the infliction. Still, it will be some compensation, and possible amusement, to observe how the new Mrs. Townley comports herself.”

“And how Lady Catherine likes it.”

They mounted the broad grand stairs together, hand in hand.

 au au lady c marriage carlton

 

Pride & Prejudice Readers Choice Scene #14

PPRC_badgered2-197x300Welcome to the fourteenth installment of The Bennet Brother, the interactive group writing project from Austen Authors! At the end of this segment, you’ll have a chance to vote on what happens next. There are also extra details on Twitter, where this story has taken on a life of its own. Mr. Edward Bennet (@edwbennet) already has a notable presence and regularly interacts with readers, including this interview with Miss Leatherberry on Leatherbound Reviews:

Interview with Mr. Edward Bennet

See how it all started and take a few moments to enjoy the Bennets as children in Susan Mason-Milks The Bennet Children have an Adventure, prelude to The Bennet Brother.

Full details on Pride & Prejudice Reader’s Choice can be read by clicking to the page via the menu above or the icon to the left. Authors for upcoming scenes through August are now listed.

 

Voting for today’s installment will end at 6am tomorrow – Thursday, May 16th. Next week, the story continues with a new addition by Maria Grace. The previous thirteen installments can be read in order on The Writers Block.

 

Here is Scene #14 by Sally Smith O’Rourke ~~

Darcy looked around the room at family and friends. What must they be thinking? He could stand it no longer. As the sun’s descent cast shadows across the carpeted floor, he slipped out of the room. Passing a maid in the entry way, he ordered candles lit throughout the house.

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Roots by Jennifer Young

Slowly he took the stairs down into the courtyard. Distracted, he wound his way across the lawns to the wilderness. The soothing sound of the rill drew him to the water’s edge; there, on the muddy bank of the river, he sat on a fallen tree. His mind was in utter chaos as he watched the obsidian water, a dark ribbon in the pale light of the new moon, as it slid around branches and twigs, lapping against unseen rocks.

Anger and mortification were heavy on his mind. His aunt, in her brazen attempt to control all of their lives, had broken the law and every rule of polite society… and in his house. He might have been pleased when the authorities took her away, but it removed the intense pleasure it would have given him to evict her, bodily if necessary, himself. He closed his eyes, trying to posit the best course of action to deal with the consequences that were sure to follow the matriarch’s criminal behavior.

He turned at the sound of crushed leaves and pine needles.

Anne deBourgh

Anne deBourgh

“Cousin.” He stood and made a shallow bow, and then took his seat again on the tree.

“It is my desire to be alone, Anne.”

She waited a moment before speaking, “I am sorry. It had been my intent to explain everything, but I had not expected their arrival so soon.” She paused slightly, and then repeated, “I am sorry.”

“Yes, so you said.”

“Are you very angry?”

“I am. I am humiliated and angry.”

“You do understand why I did it, do you not? I could not allow mother to have her way in this. I know you do not approve, Cousin, but I love Mr. Wickham with all my heart.”

“The man is a bounder.”

“If he was, his love for me has changed him.”

“Men do not change, Anne.”

“He has changed. He and Denny have owned the Lodge for more than three years now. He is a respected businessman.”

“So you think. He wants not but your portion.”

“I would have agreed with you if he had fallen in love with Anne de Bourgh, but he did not. When I met him at Ramsgate two years ago he knew not who I was, and though I recognized him, I introduced myself as Abigail Mason. He fell in love with me before he knew who I was or how much my marriage portion is. Knowing that mother will refuse to release it, he still wishes to marry me.” She paused to allow him to take in the information. “He does love me, Fitzwilliam; me the person, not the rich spinster.”

“So you are intent on marrying him?”

“Yes. The occurrences here stopped our planned elopement, as was mother’s intent. I admit, though, that I would much rather it be a proper wedding. But elopement or wedding, I shall have him.”

“And why are you telling me?” With the toe of one shoe Anne stirred the leaves at her feet, watching as the leather made swirls and divots in the dirt. “Anne?”

“You and I know that mother will not be prosecuted. The men she hired will pay for her crimes, but that does not negate what she has done. We will be unwelcome everywhere after this.”

“I am certain that Mr. Collins will be a great comfort to her.”

“Yes.” She smiled at the sarcastic comment. “But this situation makes you the family Patriarch, at least, you are the oldest male member of the family remaining. I want your blessing for my marriage to Mr. Wickham.”

fallen tree“And thirty thousand pounds?”

She stomped her foot. “I want no money!” She knelt on the ground next to the fallen tree and put her hand on his. “I want you to accept him as family.”

“You ask a lot of me, Anne. If I am to believe you, he is now an upstanding citizen, but I am finding that more than difficult to accept. He is a degenerate cad.”

With tears beginning to fill her eyes, Anne declared, “He is not.” She stood up. “You do not know him as I do.”

“And you do not know him as I do. He may not have been responsible for the highway robbery, but he did steal my horse.”

“Yes. He is sorry about that; escape was the only thing on his mind so he took Charlemagne. He had every intention of returning him. It was one of the reasons he met with Georgie.” Darcy was unable to stifle a “harrumph’ that Anne ignored. “He is not the monster you think him.”

Emotionally drained by the events of the day, he had no desire to hear his cousin’s irrational and ignorant claims, but Anne had shown a side of herself that he had never seen, and respect for the forthright nature of her appeal forced him to listen.

“You said returning the horse was one of his reasons for wanting to see Georgiana. What was the other?”

“He always thought of her as his young sister and the incident at Ramsgate has preyed on his heart for months. In spite of your suppositions, he was not there to attempt an elopement with her. He did not know she would be there. When you arrived and saw them together it was innocent as I am sure Georgiana told you.” She looked at him and raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that he had not believed his sister or his father’s godson.

He had to admit that his sister had denied the elopement. “If that is true, why did he not defend himself, explain himself?”

Quietly she said, “He was protecting me. I told mother that the sea would do wonders for my health. She allowed me to travel there with Mrs. Jenkinson. It is at Ramsgate that we met and where we became engaged.” She dropped her head, “He was there to see me.” She paused, “Mr. Wickham allowed you to believe he had designs on Georgiana so you would not suspect the truth.”

Darcy looked up at Anne, her pale skin glowing in the dim moonlight. Was it the truth? Had he been wrong? Suddenly he realized that his assumptions had been a blatantriver2 accusation of his sister as well as Wickham. If, in fact, this was true, Georgiana must hate him for it.

His mind was reeling and his head was aching. He stood and took Anne’s arm, but said nothing. After a short distance along the river bank she said, “Tell me you will think about it. Tell me I will not lose my family if I follow my heart.”

Unable to think of anything to say he agreed, “I will think about it.”

She squeezed his arm, “Thank you.”

They walked in silence until they reached the lawn. Anne had needed the extra time to form her next words carefully. “Promise me something, Cousin.” She waited. He said nothing. “Promise me,” she insisted.

“What is it you want me to promise?”

“That you will follow your heart and not your staid attitudes about what is expected or acceptable in society.” She waited for the words to register before continuing, “She is beautiful, intelligent and strongly independent. I believe she is the kind of woman who could make you happy. Do not allow her limited connections and finances temper your love. Open your heart as I did.”

“And who is this lady?”

Anne looked up at her relative and laughed, “Why do you suppose mother tried to bribe Mr. Bennet? It was not simply because she saw his interest in Georgiana, but the obvious affection you have for his sister, Elizabeth. The Bennets and Mr. Wickham were in the way of her ultimate plans for you, me, and Georgie.” She waited a mere moment, “Your stoic demeanor does little to hide your true feelings, Fitzie.”

Startled by her use of the nickname, “Do not call me that!”

“It did not used to bother you.”

“We were children then.”

“Yes, we were, happy children who found joy in life and the world around us. Shall I tell you a secret?” She did not wait for an answer. “Mr. Wickham often makes me feel like a child again. Happy, content with what life has to offer without thought of money, property or connections.”

“And that is a good thing?”

“A very good thing, Fitzie.” Visibly he cringed at the name. “You don’t want me to call you that because you are embarrassed by it. I use it because I love you. Does my love embarrass you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why should my term of endearment?” He had no answer, for he could not tell her he was afraid people would laugh at him and he did not want to be thought of as ridiculous.

Anne continued, “Do you remember that summer you spent at Rosings and several of my father’s hunting dogs had litters?”

Red Golden Retriever Puppies 3“Yes.”

“I often think of that day when all the puppies were climbing on us and we were on the ground giggling as they tickled us. We were unafraid to show our feelings then. And shall I tell you, it is often how I feel now when I am with Mr. Wickham.”

Darcy smiled at the memory of the small, furry creatures licking their faces, their tiny claws tickling their necks. The joy of it lightened his heart.

“I saw the look on your face when you watched Miss Bennet nuzzle Charlemagne. She was not the least embarrassed for anyone to see her do it, and you liked it.” A quiet aside, “Her playfulness would be a good counter to your priggishness.”

His surprise was complete. They continued in silence.

The house stood in the near distance; torch light creating a shroud of serenity that Darcy certainly did not feel.

Finally Anne said, “You have not promised.”

Distracted he questioned, “Promised?”

“That you will open you heart.”

“You are asking much of me this evening, Anne. I can only say with certainty that I will think about all of it.” He paused, “You should go in now so that the chill does not…” He stopped himself. She was not the frail flower needing special care that his Aunt had wanted all to believe. She was fiercely independent, and he was proud of her. Rather than suggest she needed to be out of the cool air, he told her he needed to be alone for he had much to think about. She reached up and kissed his cheek. He smiled at her, and when he was certain she was safely inside, he turned away from the house.

He walked; his head down. He rubbed the back of his neck. Since their days at Cambridge, he had believed Wickham to be a blackguard of the worst kind. Wickham’s refusal of the living offered by his godfather was an insult Darcy could not abide. He had been sure that the cad had taken the money in lieu of the living and used it for debauchery and his dissolute lifestyle. Had he used it instead to buy into a legitimate business? Had he been wrong all these years? Had his obstinate nature caused him to accuse his sister, as well as Wickham, unfairly? What sort of man did that make him? He realized now that he had created many of the problems he had blamed on Wickham and his aunt, and for which he was now in search of a resolution. The answer was simple. He was the resolution. Anne had said it, he was head of the family and it was his responsibility to rectify all of it.

He continued his ramble around the grounds of his estate while attempting to determine how best to proceed, and decided he needed to sleep first and deal with it in the bright light of the new day.

gardenFinally pushing aside the many concerns he would need to address in the morning, he came upon a small garden that he often looked out on from his library, and the pleasant memory of Elizabeth Bennet in this garden overrode all other thoughts. Not two days before, he had watched Miss Bennet playing with his dogs here. He had walked to the window in order to see the whole of the scene and there she was running in the garden with his Irish Wolf Hounds. It was an amusing sight as the animals were much bigger than the slight, dark haired woman. She was laughing in enjoyment, alone with the animals. He had almost laughed with her when she knelt on the ground and hugged the necks of the giant dogs.

If he took Anne’s suggestion to ignore her low connections and lack of dowry he could find no flaws in her. Like everyone, he supposed she had some, but he had seen little evidence of them. Even her impertinence at their first exchange, having been triggered by his arrogant insult, could hardly be considered a flaw.

While initially he saw nothing pleasing about her looks he had, for some time now, considered her; his thought process paused, beautiful, yes, as Anne said, she is beautiful.

She is a voracious reader which, luckily for him, meant she had been capable of rendering aid at a critical moment. He smiled to himself; if she were to stay at Pemberley for any length of time he suspected she would spend an inordinate amount of time in his library… his favorite room in the house. He had already found her there once. It was a happy thought.irish-wolfhound-throw

As though they could read his mind, his dogs, Hermes and Hera, sauntered into the garden. An instant later he looked up in the direction of light footsteps. She seemed to float toward him as she came out of the veil of evening mist surrounding Pemberley House.

He stood and bowed and as she reached his position, “Miss Bennet.”

She curtsied. “Mr. Darcy.”

“What brings you out into the night air, Miss Bennet?”

With a hand on the head of one of the dogs and the other on the neck of the second dog, she said, “We saw you from the library window.” She saw the small smile that curved his lips and wondered at its meaning, but continued, “I feel it necessary to apologize for my part in the recent,” she paused not sure what to call the occurrences, “events that have so distressed you.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Your part, Miss Bennet?”

She bowed her head. “My meddling was largely responsible for all of it. Had I but observed propriety and stayed with the ladies during the robbery I would not have found9 unchanged affections0241 wtrmrk the watch. Had I not found the watch, I would not have shown it to you, forcing you to rise from your sick bed so that your recovery was delayed. Nor would you have assumed Mr. Wickham was a party to the incident.” Absently her hand rubbed the neck of the dog. Was that a chuckle she heard come from him?

Ire started to rise within her when he said, “Miss Bennet, your meddling, as you call it, is responsible only for saving my life, for which I will be eternally grateful. I hold no one but my aunt and myself responsible for the actions that have brought disgrace on my home and family. Trust that you had no part in any of it.”

The bit of anger gone, she added a further plea, “I must be allowed to apologize for my brother as well. Had he not insisted upon my sister and I being included in your most generous invitation, your aunt would not have felt compelled to take so drastic an action for the security of her family.” Elizabeth looked up into his dark eyes. Was that affection she saw? Was it possible after the events of the day? “I am sorry for all of it. Please accept the apology and tell me you will not hold any of this against Edward who holds your friendship in such high regard.”

10 changed sentiments0218 wtrmrkCompletely astonished at her words Darcy said nothing. “Mr. Darcy?” It was a question, a question he needed to answer. He took a shuddering breath.

“I do assure you, Miss Bennet, that your brother is no more responsible for any of it than are you. So please do not distress yourself.”

“When Mr. Wickham stole Charlemagne, Edward made such a mess of it. I fear you cannot excuse that so easily.”

“Yes, Miss Bennet, that too. My cousin Anne has explained the circumstances surrounding the theft and I am prone, at present, to acquit Mr. Wickham of all crimes. Edward holds no fault in the matter.”

Darcy watched Elizabeth, did he sense desire or was it simply the torch light glistening amongst the gold specks in her honey colored eyes? He almost laughed; it was his own desire to envelope her in an embrace that he felt. Anne was right about one thing. Elizabeth Bennet was very likely the one woman with whom he could be happy in his life.

The turmoil of the last few weeks left much to deal with, and now was not the time to offer his hand to a woman he was not certain would accept it. However, he was unable to stifle the urge to touch her. With a feather soft touch he brushed an errant curl from her cheek, and then followed the contour of her jaw with his thumb before dropping his hand and asking her to walk with him.

Lizzy’s stomach jumped when his hand touched her face, and she was unable to stop the shiver that ran through her body as he took her arm.

 

What twisty-turn will happen next?

  1. Darcy agrees to give Wickham a chance and host the wedding at Pemberley. Perfect scenario for love to bloom and family to visit!
  2. Inspector Holmes reports that Lady Catherine was attacked by the bandit Sullivan, wounded in the scuffle, and now lies near death. Will Anne de Bourgh soon inherit Rosings Park and her fortune?
  3. Caroline Bingley witnesses the exchange between Darcy and Lizzy, and in desperation conceives of a plot to rid Pemberley of the Bennets for good.
  4. To Darcy’s annoyance, he is separately drilled for information on The Bachelor – Edward Bennet – by Lady Colette Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, and Caroline Bingley!

 

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Thanks to Jennifer Young for the use of the lovely landscape Roots. And as always a special thank you to Janet Taylor for Elizabeth and Darcy.

 

 

 

 

 

Release of New Regency Romance from Regina Jeffers~Giveaway + Excerpt from A Touch of Mercy

ATOMCropBook 5 of the “Realm” series is my latest Regency romance release, and to celebrate, I have a special giveaway. I will name three lucky winners in this Giveaway – one print copy and two eBooks. The giveaway is open to US, Canada, and International visitors. Leave a comment below to enter the giveaway or for additional opportunities to win, use the Rafflecopter option to connect the post to Social Media.

Members of the Realm, a covert operations group. have retuned to England to claim the titles they left behind. Each holds to the fleeting dream of finally knowing love, but first he must face his old enemy Shaheed Mir, a Baloch warlord, who believes one of the group has stolen a fist-sized emerald. Mir will have the emerald’s return or will exact his bloody revenge.

A devastating injury has robbed AIDAN KIMBOLT, VISCOUNT LEXFORD, of part of his memory, but surely not of the reality that lovely Mercy Nelson is his father’s by-blow. Aidan is intrigued by his “sister’s” vivacity and how easily she ushers life into Lexington Arms, a house plagued by Death’s secrets–secrets of his wife’s ghost, of his brother’s untimely passing, and of his parents’ marriage: Secrets Aidan must banish to finally know happiness.

Fate has delivered MERCY NELSON to Lord Lexford’s door, where she quickly discovers appearances are deceiving. Not only does Mercy practice a bit of her own duplicity, so do all within Lexington Arms. Yet, dangerous intrigue cannot squash the burgeoning passion consuming her and Viscount Lexford, as the boundaries of their relationship are sorely tested. How can they find true love if they must begin a life peppered with lies?

SCENE SETTING: Aidan Kimbolt has been away from his home since his injury has robbed him of part of his memory. He sends his man of all means, Henry “Lucifer” Hill, ahead to prepare the estate for his return. On the road, Lucifer meets Mercy Nelson, the younger sister of Grace Nelson from A Touch of Grace. Like Grace, Mercy has run away from their brother’s life of debauchery. Mercy believes Grace has died on the road, but she is determined to reach London and freedom.

EXCERPT: Mercy’s newfound optimism floundered when the cold rain had begun. She had set her sights upon London once again. The Pawleys’ regular maid had returned yesterday, and Mercy had regretfully gathered her meager belongings. Mary Purefoy, the maid, had graciously permitted Mercy to share her small room for one last evening; otherwise Mercy would have been forced to be on the road some twelve hours earlier.

Mrs. Pawley had fed her a hearty breakfast and had given Mercy a small loaf of dark bread to see her on her way. “If’n ye are ever in the neighborhood agin’,” the woman offered. “Ye must come to us. Mr. Pawley and me be thankful to welcome you.”

Mercy had been sorry to leave the woman, not only because of the nourishing food and the dry bed, but because the Pawleys had shown her a great consideration. It had been so long since Mercy had known true human kindness that she thought she would miss the couple’s empathy more so than she would miss the Pawley’s warm kitchen.

* * *

“Congratulations, Your Lordship,” Aidan had waited for Lucifer to speak his peace to the marquis. Aidan had asked Godown to join him and Lucifer in a private drawing room. It was a bit unusual, but Lucifer Hill had served beside the members of the Realm as their eighth man. Hill had saved each of their lives at one time or another, and they had rushed to save his more often than Aidan could recall. Men who shared such moments held a bond beyond class or station. “It pleases me you have found a worthy mate, my Lord.”

The marquis smiled that silly grin, which had not departed Gabriel Crowden’s countenance since Grace Nelson’s appearance in the Linton Park chapel. “Lady Godown will bring a sense of order to Gossling Hill. I thank you for your well wishes.” Godown had accepted Lucifer’s hand in parting. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to the wedding breakfast before the Three Roses think me displeased with my choice of brides.”

“A man must only look upon your countenance, my Lord, to see your true regard for the lady,” Hill asserted. Surprisingly, the marquis did not contradict the statement. So Hill sees what I do, Aidan thought. It was a moment of triumph and regret.

“Be safe, Hill,” Godown said graciously. “And keep the viscount from harm.”

“I will do my best, Sir.” Hill bowed as the marquis exited.

Aidan watched Godown go before he said, “I will remain at Linton Park until Godown’s aunts follow the marquis to Staffordshire. Pennington has asked for my escort as far as Cheshire.”

Hill nodded his understanding. “Your delay will provide me time to make certain everything at Lexington Arms is set aright before your arrival.”

Aidan smiled easily. “Do not go berating everyone again. I have no desire to listen to a litany of complaints upon my return.”

“You know I have no patience for those who waste my time,” Hill defended himself.

Aidan grasped the man’s shoulder. “And I am a better man for your allegiance, my Friend. You will hold to the marquis’s warning to take care.” He shook Hill’s hand. “Have you said your farewells to Hannah?”

“Aye, Sir.” Hill nervously reached into his pocket. “Before you leave Linton Park, would you ask Lady Worthing to present this small gift to Hannah on Christmas? It is a token of my devotion.” His friend’s voice had taken on an emotional tone, like sand rubbing against a stone, and Aidan felt the same twinge of jealousy, which had plagued him of late.

Aidan accepted the brown paper wrapped package. It grieved him he would not know the pleasure of giving a simple gift to a beloved one. “Why did you not give it to Hannah yourself?”

“The woman has shed enough tears with my leaving,” Hill confessed. “Plus, I wish Hannah to realize she is in my thoughts when we are separated. It is important for a woman to have something upon which to hang her hopes. Viscount Worthing was saying just the same the other day.”

Aidan thought of poor Susan. Had his young wife not had something upon which to pen her dreams? Had such a thought been the source of Susan’s bedlam? Had there been a means by which he could have saved her? Had Susan wished to be saved? “I will see to it personally.”

* * *

Continue reading

Would You…Tattoo?! by Marilyn Brant

Pemberley tattoo

A few days ago on Facebook, a friend of mine posted this cool link about people who’d gotten book-related tattoos. Lots of famous novels were represented, including the Harry Potter books, The Little Prince, The Great Gatsby, Peter Pan, The Catcher in the Rye, and even Where the Wild Things Are!

But, of course, this image from Pride and Prejudice was the one that really caught my eye, and I had to share it. I loved hearing from several other Austen fans about their personal tattoo choices — some of which were definitely Austen related! – or the kinds of tattoos they’d fantasized about getting someday.

If you were going to get a tattoo (or, perhaps, you already have one or more!!), what would yours say? Or which image would you choose? I’m a little too whimpy to do it for real (needles! pain! oh, my!), but one of my favorite JA quotes is this one: “Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.” Probably a bit long, LOL, but I’d be tempted to immortalize it. Or maybe just: “I *Heart* Mr. Darcy!”

What about you? Would you…tattoo?! :)

Mother Montage

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Winner of When They Fall in Love Announced

WTFIL - March 29, 2013 - Front Only SmallerThe winner of a proof paperback copy of When They Fall in Love is Susan Schneider. Thank you to all who entered the giveaway and for leaving your wonderful comments. Happy Mother’s Day to all!

Fisticuffs

images-1 “Men are always liable to quarrel. Why should they then not settle their differences in the clean, decent way of fisticuffs?”*

* J.C. Reid, quoting the Regency sport writer Pierce Egan about pugilism in Bucks and Bruisers, Routledge, Kegan Paul, London, 1971.

Not being a fisticuff kind of gal (never mind what childhood stories my brothers may tell you otherwise), I’d always considered the sport of boxing brutish and uncivilized. Yet, precisely because it’s brutish and uncivilized, a Regency pugilistic encounter was not to be missed!

Stripped to the waist, two brawny specimens of English manhood, armed with only their bare fists and bottomless courage, pummeled and pounded at each other until one of them is rendered unconscious and/or dragged, broken and bleeding, from the ring by his seconds.

Really! What was I thinking? What’s not to like! (If I may be facetious here.)

Would Jane Austen’s heroes be found as a spectator at such a vulgar brawl’? Hmmm…. I could see John Thorpe and Frank Churchchill and George Wickhamattending, but would Henry Tilney, George Knightley, and Fitzwilliam Darcy?

Yes. From what I read of the period, most likely. Continue reading

Following Elizabeth Bennet

SusanCommunionI love spring; the warmer weather and brighter days; the smell of freshly cut grass. Watching the buds on the trees and the bright yellow forsythia blossoms slowly unfurling from their winter hibernation fills me with a sense of renewal and awe. It’s at this point, from beneath the flowering dogwoods and purple lilacs, that I always feel a sort of communion, not just with Mother Nature, but with Elizabeth Bennet.

At this time of year I find her everywhere and in everything—from winding wooded paths and patches of periwinkles, to sun-dappled moss carpets and lush, green meadows. It can’t be helped. Jane Austen gave her most beloved heroine such a fondness for the outdoors that it’s so easy to imagine her at every turn, a smile on her face and her head tilted heavenward, soaking up the sun. She’s been my companion on many a hike through the woods near my home, through the countryside, and even by the sea. I often take long walks with my family, but Elizabeth Bennet never fails to tag along, too, feeding my imagination and planting the seeds for new stories in my head.

We pack snacks to take with us, and while my husband and daughter are munching happily, perched atop the highest rock in sight, I’m right beside them, often scribbling away in the notebook I stashed in my backpack, writing furiously about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. My daughter skips over to read over my shoulder, and my husband shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but his voice is teasing. “Do you always have to bring that guy with you?” he asks, referring to Mr. Darcy. I smile and laugh at him, shaking my own head as I put my notebook away and reach for a bag of granola (the kind with the chocolate chips). “Of course not,” I tell him, “but he’d be awfully lonely by himself.”

Jane Austen once wrote, “To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.” I can’t help but agree, especially when I have my family at my side, and Elizabeth Bennet a few steps ahead of me.

DFUP_FrontCoverForWebSpeaking of Elizabeth Bennet, if all goes according to schedule, my supernatural Pride & Prejudice novella, Darkness Falls Upon Pemberly, should be available in August from White Soup Press. And yes, there will definitely be a give-away!

 

Pride & Prejudice Readers Choice Scene #13

 

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Welcome to the thirteenth installment of The Bennet Brother, the interactive group writing project from Austen Authors! At the end of this segment, you’ll have a chance to vote on what happens next. There are also extra details on Twitter, where this story has taken on a life of its own. Mr. Edward Bennet (@edwbennet) already has a notable presence and regularly interacts with readers, including this interview with Miss Leatherberry on Leatherbound Reviews:

Interview with Mr. Edward Bennet

Full details on Pride & Prejudice Reader’s Choice can be read by clicking to the page via the menu above or the icon to the left.

 

Voting for today’s installment will end at 6am tomorrow – Thursday, May 9th. Next week, the story continues with a new addition by Sally Smith O’Rourke. The previous twelve installments can be read in order on The Writers Block.

 

 barbed wire

Following on the heels of Colette Saucier, I begin by stepping back a few days to reveal an important, clandestine meeting between two prime players in today’s scene. Tying up a few loose strings was important, plus a wee bit of intrigue is a positive boon to a dramatic story, right? So get ready to have your socks knocked off! (I hope)

 

Here is Scene #13 by Sharon Lathan ~~

 

Seven days before the Bennets’ departure…

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George Wickham’s jail cell

“Are you sure you want to be alone with him, Miss? He is dangerous.”

“I am sure, and he isn’t dangerous.”

The jailor shook his head, and then shrugged. “Whatever you say, Miss. I’ll be right outside this door if you need me.”

“I won’t, but do appreciate your concern.” The cloaked woman nodded toward the lock and said no more as the jailor turned the key. Once opened, she breezed through and headed straight for the cell indicated by the jailor’s point.

George Wickham stood as she approached. Surprise and happiness flooded his face, a smile springing forth even though she could tell he fought it. His words of greeting conveyed the mixture of his emotions. Continue reading

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