Erica Ridley, guest author

Ana presents romance author Erica Ridley

Tell us about the Dukes of War, and The Captain’s Bluestocking Mistress.

The Dukes of War historical romance series features roguish peers and dashing war heroes who return from battle only to be thrust into the splendor and madness of Regency England.

Captain Xavier Grey returned from the Napoleonic Wars a hairsbreadth away from catatonic. No one knows what happened but him, and Xavier isn’t saying a word. He flees London for the countryside, intending to spend the rest of his days alone in his small cottage.

Jane Downing is a wallflower with a serious book habit and well-honed inner snark. She’s tired of being invisible, and sets out to turn the man of her dreams into her real life lover. She lands on Xavier’s doorstep just in time for the snowstorm of the season.

Captain Grey suddenly finds himself snowbound with a bluestocking. And she has an unbelievably tempting plan for heating up the winter nights...

How do you deal with writer’s block?

If I'm blocked because a scene isn't working or I literally have no idea what should happen next, that usually means I'm way too close to the project and need to take a step back. More often than not, going on a long walk will jog something loose in my brain and let me see where the story needs to go.

Other times, taking my mind off of the problem completely—such as going on a Netflix or TBR binge—provides me with the right amount of distance to find my own answers.

However. If I know exactly what I need to do next but I just don't "feel" like writing, that is not an excuse to spend the next four hours with someone else's characters. I sit myself down in front of the computer and force myself to keep going, no matter how slow and painful it might be. It might take minutes or it might take days, but eventually I'll get my mojo back.

Sometimes the only trick to keeping going is just not stopping.

Who or what helped you along the way to publishing?

Joining the Romance Writers of America was the smartest thing I could’ve done. Through workshops from my local chapter, I learned so much about the publishing industry and the craft of writing. Romance authors tend to be wonderful about helping each other out, so networking at conferences often turns into lifelong friendships. I met my literary agent, Lauren Abramo of Dystel & Goderich, the old fashioned way—query letters and postal mail—and she has also been an invaluable resource and a great friend.

What do you do to relax?

I live on a macadamia farm in the rainforests of Costa Rica, so I can’t help but relax when I’m not writing! My front balcony has a rocking chair and a view of a volcano, and my side balcony has a hammock and a view of the largest lake in the country. Before moving to Costa Rica, I was an avid scrapbooker. Now I’m more likely to be found hiking in the middle of the jungle or relaxing on the beach.

Erica will give one lucky commenter a free copy of The Earl's Defiant Wallflower. Be sure to include your email address with your comment.

Excerpt from The Captain’s Bluestocking Mistress

When Captain Xavier Grey finds himself snowbound with a sultry bluestocking intent on seduction, he does what any honorable soldier would do: He tries to make her think of him as “just a friend.” Failing that, he figures he can at least distract her attention with the dusty old library he hasn’t laid eyes on since leaving for war...

Xavier gritted his teeth. This was Operation Platonic Friendship. He was not to think about the taste of Miss Downing’s mouth or the sway of her hips.

They needed to spend the entirety of the day discussing Wordsworth and Voltaire. Or rather, something less… provocative. He didn’t want to make a good impression. Perhaps he ought to engage her in a lively debate on whether library books were best catalogued by size or color.

“What do you think of my collection?” he found himself asking, instead.

“Well…” She poked her head from around a corner. “The topics are varied enough, but at least half have never been read. The pages aren’t even sliced.”

“You can do the honors, if you’ve found something you’d like to read.” He adjusted a small pillow and stretched out upon the chaise longue. He didn’t much care who sliced the pages, but if offering her the privilege made him seem like a good friend, he’d be happy to lend his knife.

Eyes sparkling, she bounced in place. “I can read anything that I want?”

“As long as it isn’t…” He hesitated. What had she mentioned earlier? Sugar? Shogun? “…shunga scrolls.”

The corners of her mouth quirked. “Nobody reads shunga scrolls. They just look at the pictures.”

He cut her a flat look.

She gave an innocent flutter of eyelashes and selected a book from the shelves. “Lay back down. I’ll read something to you. How about the Odyssey in original Greek?”

He couldn’t even remember purchasing it. “Do you mind if I snore?”

“I hope you do. But I’ll translate aloud in case you manage to stay awake.” Rather than take another chair, she perched at the foot of the chaise longue with her back toward him. “Ahem. Page the first. ‘Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero…’”

There. Xavier relaxed his head against the cushion. Nothing could be more respectable.

Or less stimulating. He hadn’t actually intended to snore, but nor had he anticipated the level of mortal dullness in which Miss Downing read aloud. She could not have infused less life into her tone had she merely been counting sheep.

He might have told her not to bother translating, since it wasn’t doing either of them any favors, except he saw no advantage to being rude. His goal was to be perceived as a friend, not the enemy. Enemies could incite passion.

Miss Downing’s monotone could only incite slumber.

After a while, he let his eyelids drift closed. It had been a long, cold night filled with nothing but vivid waking dreams. He had been exhausted from the moment he rolled out of bed. Her tone was pacifying in its relentless uniformity, the words forgettable and relaxing.

He almost didn’t notice when she skipped from Calypso to Circe in the space of a breath. Her low words droned on without hitch. His eyes flew open. How could she have turned thirty pages at once without noticing? How could she have skipped the Trojan horse without noticing?

Sleep forgotten, he propped himself up on one elbow to glance over her shoulder at the text.

And roared. “What the devil are you reading, woman?”

She jumped, her cheeks flushing a rosy pink. “You said I might read whatever I wished.”

“You said you were reading the Odyssey!”

“I said I would read you the Odyssey.” She motioned him back to his pillow. “I’m reading something else.”

“That’s not ‘something else.’” Heart galloping, he reached for the book.

She held it aloft with her other hand. “You can’t have it. I’m right in the middle.”

“Absolutely not. That’s The Memoirs of Fanny Hill, and it’s not fit for human eyes,” he ground out.

Her brows arched. “Then why do you have it?”

“Because I’m inhuman! Give me the damn book or I’ll—”

“Oh, lay back down. You were almost asleep. I’ve already read most of what you’re afraid of, so there’s not much harm in reading the rest.”

He collapsed back against the chaise and covered his face with his hands. No wonder the woman’s storytelling abilities had been execrable. She’d been quoting from memory whilst reading an entirely different story. One in which an innocent country miss was procured by a bawdyhouse madam and then descended into a life of erotic abandon.

“What part are you at now?” he rasped, his throat dry. 

The Captain's Bluestocking Mistress is on sale for 99 cents right now at

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/ericaridley

Apple / iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/erica-ridley/id426778365?mt=11

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/erica-ridley

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/author?id=Erica+Ridley

Kobo: http://kobobooks.com/search/search.html?q=erica+ridley

Author Bio
Erica Ridley learned to read when she was three, which was about the same time she decided to be a writer when she grew up.
Now, Erica is a USA Today best-selling author of historical romance novels. Her latest series, The Dukes of War, features roguish peers and dashing war heroes who return from battle only to be thrust into the splendor and madness of Regency England.
When not reading or writing romances, Erica can be found riding camels in Africa, zip- lining through rainforests in Costa Rica, or getting hopelessly lost in the middle of Budapest.
Website: http://www.EricaRidley.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/EricaRidley Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/EricaRidley Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/EricaRidley 

I is for Imagination

Margaret has had 81 love affairs - in her imagination!

All writers have fantastic imagination. For the duration of whatever book we’re writing we live in the world we’ve created. I remember my husband once suggesting I left my writing to go for a walk and I told him not to be silly, it was raining. But it wasn’t, it was only raining in my book. I was so wrapped up in this world I’d invented that I truly thought it was raining.

 

I live each story as I write it. I become my heroine which means I’ve had eight one love affairs and at this moment am embarking on my eighty second. All with the permission of my husband!

 

I meticulously research settings but as far as characters go they are one hundred percent in my mind, not even remotely connected to anyone I know. Having said that someone once said to me that they recognised a relative of theirs in one of my books! The people I create, even my secondary characters, are definitely all figments of my imagination.

 

The very act of writing stimulates it and takes me to situations and places I’d never thought of before I set pen to paper. (Figuratively speaking) It never stops working either. Most writers say they have some of their best thoughts/ideas in the middle of the night. A pen and paper is essential beside the bed, otherwise the thoughts will fly off into the ether never to be found again.

 

Children have the best imagination. They create their own little world inside their heads - you only have to watch them playing games. Somehow this disappears as they get older – perhaps the stimulation isn’t there, other things take over. My creative juices didn’t reappear until I was in my thirties when I went to college to learn German. English was part of the course and it was at this time I had an idea for my first book. Although I didn’t pass my German exam, (nor did anyone else in the class and they sacked the teacher) it spurred me on to have a go at writing.

 

I is for Islands

Debra has a bad case of Spring Fever.

Three weeks from today I'll be cruisin' the southern Caribbean. Specifically we'll be spending the day in St. Kitts. Our tour will include stops at the 300 year old Brimstone Hill Fortress, Caribelle Batik Studios, and the capital city of Basseterre.

Other stops on this particular cruise are St. Thomas, St. Maarten, and Tortola. The cruise is designated as a repositioning cruise, meaning we depart from Port Canaveral in Florida and return to San Juan in Puerto Rico. This caused quite a few problems with airline tickets as the itinerary was changed after we made our initial reservations, but Carnival really stepped up and offered us on-board credit for the fees we incurred while making the necessary flight adjustments. Which is fabulous, because the credit will pay for all of our shore excursions, with some left over as well.

I cannot wait to get away. Everyone around here seems to be sick, whether it's the sniffles I just can't shake, or the stomach flu, or even strep throat. I'm tired of looking at snow and ice. I am desperate need of some humid, tropical air to ease the constant dryness in my throat and of my skin.

We've been counting down since 75 days to go. Now we're at seventeen days. To say we're getting anxious and excited is an understatement.

We love exploring at all of our stops. We're not lay-around-at-the-beach-all-day people. When we're in port, we want to experience local history and culture. Vacation is not only a getaway for us, but a history lesson as well. When we took a cruise for our honeymoon, I eventually used the various ports we cruised to as the setting for Wild Wedding Weekend. Will I write another cruise story? Probably not, but perhaps I'll try a tropical island one some day. There's sure to be plenty of inspiration as we bask in the sun for an entire week.

Until then, I'm finishing up making transportation arrangements, gathering my wardrobe, and trying to be patient. I know the sooner it comes, the sooner it will be over, and I do want the anticipation and the adventure to last as long as possible.

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com

Wild Wedding Weekend - available from The Wild Rose Press

All Abby Walker ever wanted was to live a normal life in her small suburban-Chicago house. After traveling around the world in her youth, staying put in one spot is a dream come true. But when she winds up on a game show as a favor to a friend, her life takes an adventurous turn she isn’t at all prepared for.

Noah Grant has put his small-town Indiana roots behind him. He travels all over the world, enjoying the freedom and adventure. He has no intention of settling down anytime soon, if ever. But then he finds himself married to Abby in a bizarre quirk of fate, and he realizes his life will never be the same. Their passion flares as hot as the sultry Caribbean air. But is passion enough to turn their Wild Wedding Weekend into a lifetime of love?

I is for Ireland (of course!)

Paula’s second Irish novel is published.

 

This is perfect timing for the letter I, as ‘Irish Intrigue’ was released last week.

 

Charley Hunter returns unwillingly to Ireland to complete the filming of a TV drama series. She still hasn’t come to terms with the tragic loss of her husband there two years previously, and the last thing she expects is an instant attraction to an Irish veterinary surgeon.

 

Luke Sullivan’s life is full as he tries to balance caring for his two young children with his busy rural veterinary practice. After the break-up of his marriage, he vowed to leave women well alone, but now finds himself drawn to Charley.

 

While Charley struggles with the re-awakening of her emotions, Luke faces a series of unexplained crises at his clinic, as well as an impending custody battle with his ex-wife.

 

They grow closer as their initial interest in each other develops into mutual support and then into love. But how can an English actress and an Irish vet reconcile their different worlds? And will their relationship survive when Luke believes Charley has endangered his children’s lives – and then betrayed him?

 

‘Irish Intrigue’ is a stand-alone story, not a sequel, but some of the characters in ‘Irish Inheritance’ do make a reappearance, as does Mist Na Mara House, now an Arts Centre under the leadership of Guy and Jenna, the hero and heroine of my first Irish novel.

 

One new character is Alice Vernon, an elderly actress, who gives Charley some sound advice. In my personal blog last week, I wrote about the small incident that sowed the seed for this character. You can read this at: http://paulamartinpotpourri.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/a-signature-in-guestbook.html

So far, everyone who has read ‘Irish Intrigue’ has said how much they love Alice, and I’m already wondering how I can bring her into my third Irish novel, which I’ve just started.

 

And here to whet your appetite, are some photos of the beautiful Connemara countryside in which both novels are set.

 

 

 

 

Ignominy As Conflict

Jennifer is publicly shaming her characters...

I is for ignominy. I love that word. I love the way it sounds and the way it rolls off the tongue. I don’t love the meaning, though. It means “public shame or disgrace.” However, as an author, ignominy makes for great conflict.

Think about it: your hero or heroine suffers from public shame or disgrace, either in present day or in their past, and that shame or disgrace sets the ball rolling for a wonderful story, as well as makes it quite a challenge for the hero and heroine to get back together.

Although I’ve never named it as such, two of my characters suffer ignominiously. The first is John in Skin Deep, which is re-releasing on March 10. His parents have never accepted him and shamed him mercilessly as a child. That childhood framed the man he is today in the story and influenced how he behaves. Only when he learns to get past it, can he open himself up to love from Valerie, the heroine.

In The Seduction of Esther, Nathan is the one suffering from ignominy. During his marriage, his wife cheated on him publicly and as a result, he does not like anyone knowing about his love life or love interests. He does not want to be embarrassed again. Which would be fine, except that he falls for Samara, who turns into a complete klutz every time she becomes attracted to a man. There’s no hiding from that!

What kinds of conflicts to you like?

I is for Intimacy

Ana peeks under and through intimacy from a writer's perspective.

My Webster's Dictionary defines intimacy as "The state of being intimate."
Intimate is defined as "marked by close acquaintance;" "relating to one's deepest nature;" "very personal;" "sexual."

Romance writers strive for intimacy in their novels because romance readers crave a close, personal, vivid experience when reading. We write deep POV to show our characters' natures and reveal their innermost, secret desires and fears.

We also write with a narrative intimacy to convey a wide range of emotions. We strive to show our heroine's moods, the hero's reaction to a turn of events.

To be able to wring pathos from our heroine's certainty that she'll never be united with the hero, we have to know our heroine intimately--and then write in her POV the scenes where she accepts love's gifts and defeats. Likewise, we get to know our hero (as intimately as one can know the opposite sex), get in his head and stay there in scenes where his prowess / honor is challenged and his passions are enflamed.

It's the emotional connection we're after. The intimate. And nothing is more intimate than love scenes. The duet that builds up to the climax (literally) and then lets the reader savor the afterglow. An author has to already be on an intimate level with his/her characters to write a satisfying sex scene.

Erotic romances usually stage the first sexual encounter early in the story, before deep character development. But the intent of an erotic romance is panty-wetting. Love can blossom after the "best sex" the hero has ever had. The dive into the intimate recesses of emotion might be revealed until after the mind blowing f**k, but it will have to be portrayed on the page, or IMO, the story will not deliver satisfaction to most readers.

Sexual intimacy has to be justified by emotional intimacy. By the characters' recognition that their lover is the only one who can make them feel complete, who fills the emptiness that has been stalking them, who heals undeserved or long festering emotional wounds, and who loves them with conditions that free them to love themselves.

Snippet Sunday - A Peek into Debra's Current Release

Chapter One

“I want you to be my sex tutor.”
Jason choked on his beer. “What?”
Chloe Harris waited until he met her gaze again. “So, will you do it?” The background noise from the crowded bar filled the charged silence as she held her breath, waiting for his answer. Country music blared from the speakers set around the dance floor. Glasses and bottles clinked. Conversations overlapped, individual words indistinguishable in the cacophony.
“Do what?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard right the first time.
She sighed. “Be my sex tutor.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you need a sex tutor?”
“To make sure I’m doing it right.”
This time Jason’s beer spilled down the front of his shirt. He dabbed at the spot with a napkin. “Dammit, this was a new shirt.” He closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened, his expression was pained. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this. Hell, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. But what makes you think you’re doing it wrong?”
She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. “I don’t know. I mean, everyone always talks about how great sex is, but to be honest, I don’t know what the fuss is all about.” Maybe it was her. Maybe she was doing it wrong. “So.” She toyed with the napkin under her drink. “It’s kind of on my bucket list. To have a night of really great sex.”
He closed his eyes again. It almost looked like he was praying. The dark sweep of his lashes curled over the lids. Why did men have such impossibly beautiful eyelashes, while women spent oodles of money on mascara and torturous curling devices? Obviously God had a sense of humor.
Finally he opened his eyes. Even the dim light in the bar couldn’t hide their vibrant blue. “Bucket list? You’re only twenty-six.”
“Twenty-seven. It’s just something I want to do before I’m thirty.”
“That gives you three years.”
“Well, there are other things on my list, too. I want to get this one out of the way.” To silence the ever-present whispers of self-doubt plaguing every relationship she’d ever had. She leaned closer. “C’mon, I hear you’re really good.”
The bottle froze halfway to his mouth. “Where did you hear that?”
“Maureen Brockman and Leslie Granger both said you were fabulous.”
With deliberate care he set the bottle down. “You asked them how good I was in bed?” The words were forced out between clenched teeth.
“I had to do my research. I want someone who knows what he’s doing.” She settled back in the chair. “So, will you do it?”
“You can’t be serious.”
Chloe lifted her chin a notch. “Why not?”
“Because this is totally insane. If you want to do something crazy, get a tattoo.”
“That’s on my list, too.” She looked at him, then down at the table. She traced the pattern of the wood grain with her index finger. “I just want to do this first. And I figured you’d be the perfect guy to help me.”
“What in the world would make you think that?”
“Well, for one, you’re a high school science teacher, so you know all about chemistry and stuff.” She batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.
“Ha ha.”
“All kidding aside.” Her serious tone underscored the words. “I know you. I trust you.” More than she trusted herself.
Something played in his eyes, but he shook his head. “Chloe, take a minute to stop and listen to yourself. You’re asking me to have sex with you.”
“I know.” It had taken months to work up the courage.

One Great Night - available now from The Wild Rose Press.