Word Wenches

What We are Reading

From cozy mysteries, grumpy billionaires and nerdy theoretical physicist looking for love to high-flying thrillers and our own Anne Gracie's Regency romance, the Wenches have been reading up a storm this month!

Pat: I found a lot of good mysteries this month! Here's a couple: Double Twist (A Mia Murphy Mystery) Stephanie Rowe. Oh my, this was a fun one. Definitely not a cozy although we have a small town and a heroine restoring an old business, a marina. Mia Murphy grew up with a con for a mother, married a drug dealer, and once she gets free of all that, still manages to buy a marina owned by a drug dealer. But she’s determined to put the past behind her and build a beautiful life in rural Maine where nothing bad ever happens. Until it does. Her background is bound to be a criminal magnet. But at least there’s a hunky cop to catch her when she falls, which she does fairly often. Instead of packing pistol hardware, she swings real hardware—hair dryers, pencil sharpeners, anything with a cord she can swing. Her comrades in arms are a baton twirling/body builder mail woman and a septuagenarian café owner/race car driver. So we may have a few murderous thugs and a lot of local skullduggery, but Mia can handle it all. Somehow. I even laughed out loud a few times, which never happens. If you're just looking for a little fun, give it a try!

Tomatoes!

by Mary Jo

When I was a kid in Western New York, tomatoes were just another vegetable.  I didn't grow them in my garden, and while there were plenty of farm stands with great produce, I don't remember tomatoes as being especially prominent. (Picture: Hyzeyfe Turcan))

Now I live in Maryland, where it is warmer and a there's a much longer growing season, and tomatoes are treated as almost a religious experience.  People (justly) rhapsodize about the heavenly taste of perfectly ripe Eastern Shore tomatoes and swap tips on where to buy the very best tomatoes. Which is important because there are a fair number of disappointing red imposters lurking under signs that say "Tomatoes."  (Developing tomatoes that ripen at the same time and are a uniform red might have been good for mass production, but in my experience, the texture is too often like Styrofoam.)

 

Patchwork

Christina here. When I was a teenager, I had an American friend who used to work on patchwork quilts with her mother and two sisters as a group project every so often. It made the work go faster, and was also a lovely way for them to spend time together. I remember thinking I would love to try it sometime, but then I forgot about it. Quilting wasn’t a handicraft that was practised much in Sweden when I grew up, or at least I’d never seen it done, so I didn’t have a chance to learn how. (Plus I don’t have any sisters.) But I had heard of them – over there they are called lapptäcke.

Later, when I moved to the UK, I saw quilts for sale in Laura Ashley shops. I couldn’t afford them myself, but my mother bought one which she later handed on to me when she no longer wanted it. In the meantime, I tried making one myself by sewing squares together on a sewing machine, but it wasn’t as nice and I didn’t like it much. It didn’t feel authentic either, since it hadn’t been hand sewn. To me, the charm of a patchwork quilt is all the work that has gone into it, each piece of material perhaps a memory of the garment it had come from and lovingly stitched.

Winner

Anne here, popping in with a quick post to say that the winner of my Scottish novella, THE LAIRD'S BRIDE,  is Teresa B.

She'll be notified directly.

Thanks to all of you who read the blog and left comments.

And thanks also to those of you who've bought and read the novella and left reviews and/or ratings. Much appreciated.

 

Imagination and Innovation

Andrea here, musing about imagination, which I do a lot, but today my focus is on how imagination sparks some people to come up with an idea that revolutionizes their world. Now, those of you familiar with my Wrexford & Sloane mystery series know that I’m very intrigued by momentous inventions that change the course of history, and use them as catalysts for my plots.
 
Change is such an interesting concept, fraught with so many facets. Some people embrace change, finding the new possibilities exhilarating. And some people are frightened by by change, preferring the comfort of familiarity and doing things the way they have always been done.
 
In my upcoming book, MURDER AT THE MERTON LIBRARY, which releases on September 26th, the action kicks off with the theft of an arcane old manuscript that may—or may not—hold a startling technical revelation that can be applied to creating an innovation that will change nautical travel.  One of the thigs I find fun about the research involved in coming up with the plot ideas is how it takes me down fascinating research rabbit holes.

A Scottish Story

Anne here. As some of you already know, I’ve just put a Scottish novella up for sale on the various websites — The Laird’s Bride, in e-book and paperback.

It’s the only Scottish story I’ve written. I was contracted for a short story of 12,000 words back in 2010, for the Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance (now out of print), and I wrote it hoping that those who bought it for the sake of the more well-known authors in the anthology might read my story and would like it enough to read my other books.

And though a lot of readers said they enjoyed it, they also said it was too short — and they were right. But the story stayed with me, so a couple of years later I extended it, showing the courtship of the couple and how they fell in love. It’s almost three times as long now — and it's not padding, I promise. I designed a cover and wench Andrea did the lettering for me — she’s very good with fonts — and I was about to upload it on amazon when I got a new contract that restricted my self-publishing. So it sat, unread and un-uploaded for almost ten years. 

However when Berkley scheduled my next Bellaire Gardens book (which was finished in March) for publication in May 2024, the opportunity came to publish this story, otherwise I would have had no books out this year, which is not good for an author, especially now that self-publishing writers can finish a book and have it up for sale within a few weeks, and thus get a number of books out in a single year. So the Laird’s time had come. I had a new cover designed and lo, here it is.

You might wonder about an Australian writer setting a book in Scotland, but I lived in Scotland for a year or so as a child, and went to school there. When I pulled out this story and reread and reedited it, the cadences and rhythms of my childhood came back to me.

Decadent Peacocks

Christina here. As some of you will have seen from our last newsletter, Wench Nicola and I recently visited Newark Park, a lovely Tudor hunting lodge in the wilds of Gloucestershire. It had a beautiful, sprawling garden, and apart from the amazing views, one of the best things about it were the resident peacocks. Those majestic birds always look like they own a place, strutting around and uttering their mournful cries every so often. It occurred to me that when describing a historical setting in a book, adding peacocks to the background immediately conveys a sense of luxury and decadence. They are not really useful birds (although perhaps they can be – more about that in a moment), just decorative and therefore an indulgence. If an author wants to demonstrate the fact that the hero/heroine is very rich, dotting their lawns with peacocks would be a good way to go about it. And who wouldn’t want some? They are truly stunning.

Where in the World are You?

Nicola here. I've been away travelling for the last couple of weeks and (hopefully!) just got home today with piles of washing to do and (again, hopefully!) lots of lovely memories which I can turn into a blog post or two to share in the future. In the meantime, however, I'm calling up a short, updated Wench classic post from nine years ago. How the time flies! It seems appropriate, though as it's all about travel, whether in real life or via our reading. So, step back in time to 2014:

"There’s a meme that was going around on Facebook a while ago that proved very popular. It asks: “You have been transported to the location in the last book you read. Where are you?” The answers flood in, from Scotland to the West Indies, from the New York of the future to London in 1515 and all times and places in between.

Ask A Wench

Pat here, with this month’s question from Karen:

I very much enjoy the monthly What We're Reading columns, and I began wondering about books that you, the Wenches, do not mention. I'd be happy to hear the answers to any or all of these questions: Do you abandon books with abandon or do you finish every book you begin? Do you read a significant number of books that you don't mention for any reason? Are you a slow or quick reader?

Nicola:

Do you abandon books with abandon or do you finish every book you begin?

 I’m quite a hasty reader in the sense that if a book doesn’t grab me reasonably quickly I will probably abandon it. I’m certainly not the sort of reader to battle on regardless on the “I’ve started so I’ll finish” premise.  I think I may miss out on some good books this way by not giving them the time to get going, so sometimes I will come back to them for a second attempt. Once I’m into a book it’s very unusual for me to give up on it but if something happens in the story that makes it a wall- banger then it’s all over! I recently read a top 10 bestseller that I was really enjoying until very near the end and then (to my mind) it took a completely wrong turning and I wanted to give it up. However I also wanted to know what happened at the end so that was a real dilemma for me!

Shattered Rainbows

by Mary Jo

The Story:

Shattered Rainbows, book #5 in my Fallen Angels series, is currently free on most ebook platforms and will continue to be free for about another week.  I'm writing this blog partly to talk about the book, but also explain some of the marketing decisions that go into why a book might be free.

Shattered Rainbows is a favorite book of mine. (For the record, Romantic Times gave it a 4 1/2 star GOLD rating and it was a RITA finalist.) I could probably say that  almost anything I've written is a favorites, but that's especially true in this case. Lord Michael Kenyon is one of the most intense and tortured heroes I've ever written, and he has a lot of baggage to work through, complicated by the fact that he's a British Army officer and the battle of Waterloo is a key feature of the story. 

I have no idea why I'm fascinated by British military history in the Napoleonic period, but I keep coming back to it time and time again.  Partly that's because it was a 'good war,' fighting against an authoritarian Continental monster.  Lots of drama for stories!  Characters are tested in the crucible of battle, and in none of my books has that been truer than in Shattered Rainbows. 

 

Books—A Love Story

Andrea here. Books have been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember. My mother was an avid reader and lover of words and pictures, so I know I had books read aloud to me from a very early age (though that I don’t came to remember.) By age five I had written several books of my own, lovingly preserved by my Mom. “Horeses” became a family joke for many years. (Yes, I’m still a bad speller!)

Trouble With Heroes

I'm wrestling with a hero at the moment. "Half your luck," you say, and yes, he is tall, dark and gorgeous, but he's also fictional. But for a man who currently lives only in my imagination it's somewhat of an irony that he just will not behave. Characters — mainly heroes — nearly always give me a hard time.

Who is he? What's his problem?  

I can draw up a character outline — he's this kind of person, he's that, he has this backstory, he wants this but really he needs that, and his main problem is this, which is really causing him that. And it will all look fabulous —  in note form. And then I start writing and he shows up on the page and he's nothing like the man I planned, around whom the whole plot was supposed to revolve. So then I have to write on and find out who this irritating fellow is, and what his problem is! And he will only reveal things in his own good time. Which is one of the reasons pre-plotting rarely works for me.

But frustrating and inefficient as this might seem, I would rather wrestle with a difficult, slippery, recalcitrant hero than have an obedient chap who does exactly what I want him to. Why? Because the difficult ones are already three-dimensional, even if I can't see all those dimensions yet, and at some stage in the story they'll do something unexpected that will completely surprise me. And if a character surprises me, they'll certainly surprise the reader, and that's a good thing. 

An example of this was my hero for my first Berkley book (The Perfect Rake.) I'd planned the hero to be one of those classic alpha types, a dark and dangerous brooding rake. Instead onto the page strolled Gideon; flippant and funny, charming and completely out of my control. I wrestled with him for ages, trying to turn him back into the dark, angsty brooder. He utterly refused, so in the end I gave up and let him be who he was. He's still one of my most popular heroes. (And Berkley have just given him a new cover.)

Introducing Laird of Rogues

Susan here, introducing my new novel, Laird of Rogues, the third in the Whisky Lairds trilogy with Laird of Twilight and Laird of Secrets.

"A wonderful story—handsome kilted Highlanders, whisky smugglers, intrigue and forbidden love, all set against the stunning backdrop of Scotland, and with a hint of fairy magic. A brilliant read!" says Word Wench Christina Courtenay, author of Promises of the Runes.

An Amazon reader recently posted “A wonderful new book by this well-known author had me enthralled from the opening chapter and it just kept getting better as the plot unfolded.”

It’s a rainy, steamy summer in Edinburgh, 1822, when Ronan MacGregor, Highland laird and whisky distiller, is invited to meet King George IV during the royal visit to Scotland – but the so-called Whisky Laird (and lawyer) is cooling his heels in the dungeon, awaiting trial for smuggling, posing an awkward problem for the city. Enter the deputy provost's daughter (and secret adventure novelist), Ellison Graham, tasked with cleaning up the Highland rogue for the royal introduction. Ronan has no interest in meeting the king and only wants to ensure safety for the people of his glen—while Ellison is eager for adventure at last. Neither expects a few etiquette lessons at a remote Highland estate to lead to mayhem, unmask a murderer—and bring unexpected love into their lives.

Whisky smuggling was a tricky business then. Distillers, crofters, smugglers, and excise officers walked the Highland hills at night, running goods, including valuable Highland whisky, to the border and the sea to sell their excellent product. Some were criminals—on both sides of the law—and some Scots smuggled to provide for their families in the face of oppressive English laws.

With a hero who was a smuggler, distiller, and an advocate of the law, and a heroine who idolized Sir Walter Scott, researching this novel was endlessly fascinating, taking me deep into whisky production and the business of smuggling, along with Scottish customs and Scots law (which was so interesting, especially when I found a little legal twist for the story!). And King George’s visit to Scotland was great fun to study -- a wild spectacle of pageantry and Celtic magnificence amid crowds of thousands. I’ll blog later about the king’s visit (and his love of Highland whisky and penchant for kissing every Scottish lady who came near).

For now, here’s an excerpt from Laird of Rogues . . .

Edinburgh dungeons, June, 1822

 “Tea,” the guard called as he pushed a wooden cart, china and silverware rattling on a small tray, into the prison cell. “Tea and visitors!” 

Ronan MacGregor closed the book he was reading and sighed, glancing at his companions in the cell, who sat up slowly; Iain MacInnes and Arthur Stewart had both been dozing. All of them were weary of the Edinburgh dungeon and their ruse as the Highland scoundrels known as the Whisky Lairds. But that guise protected their identities, their kin and glen folk too. Soon Ronan and his friends would return to their lives and livelihoods—if luck was with them. 

At least their stay here had improved when Edinburgh officials saw the advantage in allowing summer crowds to view the notorious smugglers—for a fee.

These weeks had given him much to consider, making him even more determined to push for better justice for Highland folk too often regarded as common, uneducated, unworthy. The ancient culture of the Gaels, their pride, their legacy, deserved appreciation and preservation. Once he was free to practice law again, he would promote the truth. But for now, the ploy must continue.

“Hey,” Iain MacInnes murmured. “The angel is here again.”

Ronan looked toward the door. She was there, setting gentle foot on stone, crossing the straw as if floating—a vision in lavender trimmed in black lace, dark bonnet curving around her head, a few golden curls escaping. This was indeed the young woman who had visited the prison cell just days ago. The gentleman who had accompanied her that day was back as well.  

Ronan stood, as did his friends, in expectant silence.  

Musing on Writing Part 1

Pat here—I’m bogged down in a book that won’t end, so I’m spewing whatever comes into my head today. If you’re looking for educational research, you may stop reading now. If you want to see inside an author’s empty head, this one’s for you.

Once upon a time, in a place faraway. . . I itched to write the stories in my head when I couldn’t find anything new to read (which was often; we had no library). Once I was old enough to write whole sentences, I had ink pens with lovely turquoise ink and notebook pages meant for homework, and I scribbled my heart out. My fifth grade teacher was pretty useless at teaching grammar—I rudely corrected hers. But my sixth grade teacher encouraged creativity and politely corrected my ignorant outpourings. I even had a university professor to correct my letter to the editor—which taught me I’d better learn grammar if I wanted to write for anyone but myself. I stuck to writing for myself.