Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Pride and Passion--Official Book Trailer

I know....this book came out a few weeks ago, but take a look at this trailer that the awesome Book Candy Studios did for me! I have been so absolutely crazy with family drama, family issues, the holidays, works and writing that I have not been able to get this up and around the cybersphere. But here it is. Good things come to those that wait, right!

Enjoy.....wonder what they will do for that bad boy Iain Sinclair, Lord Alynwick book....mmmmmm

So what does everyone think of it!


Friday, December 16, 2011

Christmas Wishes

I know its a tad early to be wishing readers a Happy Christmas, but the truth is, this next week is going to be absolutely insane for me, as I know it will be for readers, too! Its my year to work Christmas (fate of those in professions such a police, firefighters, and for me, the medical field) So, before the insanity insues, I wanted to take time to thank everyone for their support this year, and for picking up my books, and reviewing them, tweeting about them, facebooking about them, and most of all, for loving them and my characters.

Writing can be a solitary career, and its so wonderful to receive mail from readers who let you know that all those hours spent pouring over words and paragraphs and unruly characters was worth it! And I do have wonderful, wonderful readers who I cannot thank enough!

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday, in whichever celebration you might partake of. I will be back in the new year, with a new project I am excited to share, and a new excerpt of Temptation and Twilight.

Merry Christmas, and best wishes for a happy, peaceful and prosperous new year!

Friday, December 02, 2011

Pride and Passion BIG Contest Winners

Thanks so much to everyone who blogged, tweeted, and reviewed Pride And Passion! I really appreciated, not only getting word out about my newest release, but also spreading word about the wonderful cause of, Because I am a Girl.

So, without adieu, here are the lucky names of the winnes, as picked randomly by my daughter from a bag.......

Grand Prize: The Doll, and a signed copy of Pride and Passion.....

Prize Number Two: Fifty Dollar Gift Certificate from Amazon, and a Signed copy of Pride and Passion


Prize Number Three: Bookmark and a signed copy of Pride and Passion


Prize Number Four: Signed Copy of Pride and Passion, and a Because I Am A Girl T-shirt

Congrats to all the winners, and thank you to everyone who participated! Winners please email me at charlotte@charlottefeatherstone.net with your address!!!

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

A BIG contest in time for the holidays!

I love Christmas. Love it, love it, love it. And this month, well, in a little more than a week actually, I have a new release coming out, and I want to celebrate it with all of you. Many of you will already know it, but the book is called Pride and Passion, and it involves a very passionate couple, Lucy Ashton, and a duke, Adrian York. I loved writing this book. It made me laugh, made me cry, and made me think.

You see, Lucy is a product of her times. She's basically a pawn, as most women were back in the day. But Lucy has a voice. Sure, her father isn't hearing it, but she voices it all the same. It made me rather grateful that I was born in the century I was, because I don't believe I would have fared well back then, when I was expected to hold my tongue and obey the commands of the men around me, even if they were...gasp...my father or husband! No, I surely would not have been a very obediant daughter, or wife. I am much too independent, too stubborn, and yes, something very volatile bristles inside me at the thought of a man telling me I cannot do something!

But you know, there are still places in the world today where a woman's voice is stifled. Where women and girls are second class citizens, to even little boys. It makes me angry to be honest. I am a daughter, a wife, a professional, a writer, and a woman. There is not much closed off to me, I've had a dream of being a writer since I was eight years old, and I've achieved that dream because no one told me I couldn't. No one  told me it was silly or useless, or not my place to leave the house. No one forbid me an education, no one denied me the right to follow the dream I saw before me. I am the mother of a daughter who has the same dream laden path awaiting her. She has a father who is not only invested in her life, but in her dreams as well. He's never told her she can't. She's never been anything less than wonderful in his eyes, despite the fact she's 'just a girl'. I have two beautiful nieces, and they do whatever boys can do--and enjoying telling you they can!

We are so blessed in our Westernized countries to be independent, to be able to follow dreams and speak our minds. To grow up loved and protected, educated, and encouraged. To be what we want to be. To write what we want, and read what we want (yes, all those sexy romance novels! Imagine being denied reading them. I for one cannot imagine being denied writing them!)

I am supported by absolutely wonderful, successful women, my agent Jessica Alvarez from Bookends Literary Agency (an agency founded by a woman, and run by women btw, and rather successful, I might add), my wonderful editor, my wonderful cover artist, my friends, my coworkers who work alongside me every day as I work as nurse, helping women bring their babies into the world. My mum who taut me my worth was more than that of the man whose arm my fingers were laid upon. These are all women who have made a difference in my life, and other's as well.

It is in this spirit of women giving back to women, and of Lucy being able to at last have her voice heard, and to be gifted with love by a man who not only listens to her, but accepts her for who she is, that I am happy and excited to announce that I will be donating half of my royalties for Pride and Passion to the wonderful organization of Because I am a Girl. Please have a quick peek at the videos, or have a look around the website to see what wonderful things they are doing for girls and women. It`s not charity, it`s empowerment!

 It's my hope that myself, my readers, and Lucy from Pride and Passion might make a difference in the world of women! I will keep everyone up to date of how much I donate, and when. In the meantime, watch these very powerful short videos.


Now have a peek at this one:

I am very passionate about this cause, thankyou for helping me to share it.

Now, a big contest you ask? YES!!!!! So, in keeping with the spirit of sisterhood, my most talented friend, Heidi has made me a wonderful prize to give away. for the release of Pride and Passion. The prize is rather fitting, I think, for Lucy from Pride and Passion collects these. And I was thinking that it`s a fitting way to not only represent the book, but also the girl themed organization. Without further adieu, I give you the grand prize; the Pride and Passion doll, just in time for Christmas gift giving and keep for yourself, or give to a daughter, grand daughter, neice, mother, grandmother, god child, and the list goes on and on!

Grand Prize. This exquistie doll from Victorian Nursery, and a signed copy of Pride and Passion.

Prize Number Two: A Fifty dollar Amazon gift card, and a signed copy of Pride and Passion

Prize Number Three: The beautiful bookmark, and a signed copy of Pride and Passion

Prize Number Four: Any signed copy of any book from my backlist (just not the Secrets one, I`m out of those!) and a Because I Am A Girl T-shirt.

So what`s the catch, right. There is one, but nothing too heavy. Just blog, review, chat about Pride and Passion, Tweet the book, this contest, or Facebook it, and come back to this blog and send a link to whatever you did in the comment section. Do it a couple of times and increase your chance of winning. And that`s it. Easy peasy.

The contest will close on Thursday, Dec 1, at Midnight EST so there is enough time to ship it for Christmas, or whatever holiday or special occasion you might be celebrating.
Please visit Victorian Nursery and discover all the beautiful dolls that Heidi has made. Good luck to everyone! I`ll keep this post up so it doesn`t get missed.

happy holidays, and Peace On Earth!

Friday, October 21, 2011

Temptation and Twilight Teaser!

Readers have asked for a little glimpse of Iain Sinclair, Marquis of Alynwick's book. Apparently, he's captured the fancy of quite a few readers, and I'm so glad. I loved writing him, and his book. And his heroine, Elizabeth, is one of my favorite heroines, right up there with Jane, from Sinful. I love their story, the emotion between them, the raw, and sensual love scenes. I hope readers will, too. So, here is a little Friday tidbit. Temptation and Twilight's cover, the song that inspired their romance, and a couple of little teaser passages. Enjoy!

I just love this cover, the colours, her gown, and the model portraying Elizabeth. The hero is quite handsome, although, he is not 'my' Alynwick. He's a little too soft in this cover. Alynwick is hard, rough around the edges. He's deeply intense, a violent storm brews inside him. And this model just seems....well, I don't know what it is. But it's not my image of Iain, and how he holds Elizabeth the first time. Here's the image I had in mind for Iain. I've used this model quite a bit--it's the hair, but mostly its the eyes--so intense. So focused--yet sensual and beautiful.

And whenever I hear this song, I always imagine Alynwick saying these words to Elizabeth. I just love this short piece, and I did write two love scenes to it. Just perfect for them!


In this excerpt, Alynwick is in Sussex's study, secretly watching Elizabeth from his spot by the window...

Elizabeth had softened his hard edges, but he was rather grateful for it. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself a modicum of honesty in regards to his true feelings, but in this, he had to be honest. He had never stopped caring about Elizabeth and her well being. Had never stopped desiring her. Had always secretly loved her, knowing she held nothing inside for him but a seething hatred, he knew all too well he deserved.

Iain had always feared that love for her, feared examining his feelings about loving another--so fiercely--and not having the same feeling reciprocated. Before he had faced death on Gresham Field, Iain had been able to bury that need. To use the savage control and discipline his father had made him acquire to bury his feelings for Elizabeth where they could never be found, or disturb him. But something changed that night. Like Pandora’s Box, the long ignored feelings had sprung free from their hiding place, bringing chaos and fury, and a sickness that clung to him. Every thought, every decision was made with a purpose to reunite him with Elizabeth. For the past few days he felt as though every breath he took, was for her. Always her. Only her.

And now, here she was, robbing him of breath and speech, and the brutal self control that hid everything he was. Elizabeth had done this, taken a wild, snarling wolf and turned him into a damnable, drooling lap dog!

Before, the very idea of allowing himself to fall so easily, to be vulnerable to another human being would have sent him lashing out, reeling against feeling anything. Surprisingly, he did not feel angered by the fact that she could have no idea what it was like to lay in bed at night and ache for another, to love only one person on Earth and know she did not feel anything but contempt. Did she know how lonely it was? Could she imagine his guilt, regret, the hatred he held for himself and the actions he had caused twelve years ago? Could she fathom that he, the Mad Marquis, the Aberrant Alynwick could harbor such deep sentiment, a love that would cross oceans of times--lifetimes. A love that would never die?

Would she believe him if he told her all this? If he exposed his feelings to her, and in doing so, expose himself to her ridicule and rejection?

How did one take such hatred and turn it into love? As she stood before him, he pondered that, questioning how he could take something dark and forbidding and make it pure and desirable. He’d give away his fortune, his title, all his earthly possessions for one chance to make Elizabeth see it--his worth. His love.

He didn’t know how to pray. He was not a man of religion and faith, despite his vocation as a Brethren Guardian, but he swallowed hard, closed his eyes and silently plead. 'Please, give me one more chance to earn her forgiveness. Let me love her well, like I should have all those years ago…one more chance at redemption, and I shall do whatever you ask.'

2nd excerpt. Elizabeth has been standing before a looking a glass, in her blindness she is unable to see the woman she has become. Iain has come to her, and this scene is one of the ones I love most with them. It's sexy, and yet, it strips them down, raw and bared (and not in the literal sense!) and you really get a sense of each of their pain, and the struggle within. Iain is struggling not to hide from Elizabeth and his feelings, and Elizabeth is struggling to hid from him, knowing how easy it would be for her to accept him, and forget the past.
 Here's a bit of a teaser from this scene...

Her hands, of their own volition slid up along the curve of her hips, hips her gown could not conceal, and over to the rise of her belly, the soft protuberance beneath her corset, and up, to the bodice of her gown.

She felt the curves, sensed a woman’s body, but could not decipher if it was the sort that was becoming to men. Impotent frustration rose like a fury inside her. She was not vain, not at all, but there were times in a woman’s life when she wanted to see her reflection and gaze upon herself, discovering the woman she was. What others saw in her. What she saw in her own eyes while looking upon herself. She had no idea what shone in the looking glass. No sense of identity, or person…

“Wondering what he sees when he looks at you?”

She startled, gasped, nearly screamed until she felt him, the heat of Iain’s chest against her back. The firm grip of his large hands anchoring around her waist as he slowly brought her rigid back to rest against the long length of his body.

“Shall I tell you what he sees? What any man sees.”

“Don’t.” Ooh, her voice sounded breathless and weak, so very unconvincing in her protestation. She thought back to that afternoon, to Lucy and Isabella, and she only felt weaker, thinking of what they had said. What they saw in Iain’s gaze. “Let me be your eyes, Beth.”

The whisper of her name, the name only he used, was at once so arousing and powerful, yet like a sword to the heart. How could one weaken, be aroused, when they were slowly, but effectively being stabbed to death?

“G…get out before you are discovered here. You have no right to come here, none at all!”

“I think I do.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“I only wanted to make certain you were safe.”

“And why shouldn’t I be? This is, after all, my home.”

“You are determined to thwart my attempt at being a gentleman.”

“No, to prevent any more lies that spring so easily from your lips.”

His hand was hot, burning through the bodice of her gown. “All right then. The truth. I came up here to find you because I could not stay away.”

Elizabeth snorted, trying to find level footing. “Not likely. You have some other motivation up your sleeve.”

“Perhaps. Maybe its that I want to kiss you again. Want to see your body naked in this mirror, with my hands covering you. I want, Beth” he whispered darkly next to her ear, “to see myself sink so deeply inside you. To watch you accept me.”


“Slowly, penetrating deep, softly, lazily, until the past is gone, purged from us both.”

That, she could not allow. She was not good at hating. Forgiveness and understanding came too easy to her, she feared; and knew it would be all too simple to forgive him for the past. To want to allow him that kiss. Or worse, to wish he would take the decision from her hand, and just take it from her. Yes…that…she had always gravitated to that aspect of him, the dominant part that always knew what she wanted, that wouldn’t allow her to run away in fear.

Swallowing, she gathered her courage to fight him, and her body‘s natural instincts. “I am not at all interested in your kisses, my lord.”

“Are you not?”

How smooth and dark his voice was, whispering into her ear. The man knew she lied. It seemed she couldn’t hide anything from him.

“What of Sheldon’s kisses?” he asked darkly, “are you in interested in his?”

“I don’t see what concern that is of yours.”

“Everything you do concerns me. Everywhere you go, everyone you visit, everything you do…or dream.”

“I have no need of your concern. You may continue in the pursuit of your own vices, and no longer have to involve yourself in anything I’m doing.”

“I’ve been involved in your life, Elizabeth, whether you have noticed it or not, for a very long time.”

She struggled against him, fighting against a warmth that refused to grow cold in his arms. How she wished she could send him on his way, but she was weak and inconstant. The wicked creature who always found him irresistible was much more insistent than the woman of good sense.

“You’ve said your piece, now it is time to leave.”

“Not yet. You haven’t answered my question,” he said quietly, his voice wrapping around her in the dark, “what is your purpose standing here before this mirror?”

“None of your business.” She could not weaken. Could not. “You have no right to know my thoughts.”

“I know it for the truth, that I should never be allowed into your life, that I have no right to assume I should be allowed in. Yet I cannot help but think it is my concern. After all, I have tasted you, have brought you to shuddering climax. My body has been so deeply inside yours. I know you as no man ever has, Elizabeth. We have a connection, and although you want to deny it, to ignore the fact, that the bond between us remains--neglected and dormant, but like a bud in the spring, is awakening beneath the heat.”

“I will never allow you back in.”

He sighed, and Elizabeth felt his chin drop to the juncture of her shoulder and neck. He needed a shave, for his chin was covered in a night beard. The devil slowly brushed his chin against her, abrading her, sensitizing her, and her womb responded with a deep ache of want.

Blast him, not even a kiss, only a small grazing and she was already aching deep inside. She closed her eyes against the knowledge of it, the realization that she was weak and wanton.

“I am already there, aren’t I? Already so deep inside you. Just as deep as you are inside me. The past might lay between us, but there is something there beyond the hurt. Isn’t there?”

She refused to answer. Couldn’t. Didn’t trust herself to speak for fear she might say ‘yes,’, or to even nod in agreement. No man made her surrender, made her give up her control like Alynwick.

“Damn, but you smell so good,” he murmured as his palm, large and firm, moved from her waist and made a slow progression over the rise of her stomach, her ribs, the valley between her breasts where the tips of his fingers toyed with the edges of the bow on her bodice. “I can smell you, the building desire, the struggle within. I remember it from all those years ago, the heady musk of your excitement. The outline of your body before the window. The way it made me feel to look at you, to know you were mine. The way I took you,” his lips brushed softly over her flesh. “The way you gave to me.”

Once before, they had stood like this, in the dark of night, when he had crept into her room. She had been watching for him from her window, and he had silently come up behind her, captured her around the waist and tore off her nightrail and wrapper, rendering her naked to him. He had made love to her like that, her naked and on her knees, her hair fisted in his hand. Him, behind her, fully dressed, breathing hard--exciting her. He had possessed her, and she had allowed him to. Had given him everything she had, and he’d taken it, like a man starved, he had greedily consumed her.

“Tell me what you were searching for, standing before this mirror?”

Shaking her head, Elizabeth pressed her lips together. She refused to answer, to give words to her vulnerability, but he knew…somehow the soulless, callous Alynwick always could read her thoughts…knew what she wanted, what she yearned for her. He proved her correct when he said, “see yourself through my eyes, Beth.”

Coward. Weakling. Silly wanton. No, she could not allow him to show her what she was. She had no wish to see how quickly and easily she could succumb to him.

But oh, god his fingers, hot on the bare flesh of her bosom felt so good. The trembling of them against her, the sweep of his mouth against the bounding pulse of her neck.

It felt too good to resist, and she allowed her head to fall back against him. It had been so long since she had been touched. She’d had so much of him before, his mouth, his hands, his body moving inside hers. And then he had left, abruptly withdrew from her. It had been like a death, her body grieving for what it once had, and no longer did. His touch had been a living thing, a life, and when he had left her, withholding his touch from her, it had been a death. Hers.

How she longed for this in the nights. To be stroked. Held. Caressed. There was nothing to rival a lover’s soft, reverent touch. It had been sacred to her, he had made her body his, a supplicant only too willing to obey with just a touch. And like all masters do with their slaves, he had tossed her aside when her worth was no longer of any value to him.

“You are so beautiful,” his lips moved over her neck, his chin over her sensitive collar bone. “You cannot imagine how lovely, Beth. Every man’s dream. My most wicked, erotic fantasy come to life.”

“No,” she shook her head, protesting not his assessment, but the way she felt herself falling against him, the way her arm rose up over her head to clutch at him. She could not stop the action, could not prevent the tears that started to well behind her closed lids.

So much pain….her heart was aching with it, with the memories of his betrayal. It was mixed with the onslaught of pleasure, so acute, so overwhelming. She was literally trembling with it, her body awakening after years of being cold and dead. It wanted to reach out to him. To live. The inner struggle, it was tearing her apart, and she could do nothing more than rest against him and pray…pray that he would not destroy her once again.

“Let me in, Beth,” he murmured, his voice dark, compelling. “Please…”

Time hung, suspended, the sound of his breathing mingled with her racing pulse.

Please…had he ever asked before? Ever begged?

“Come back to me, Beth, let us find our way back to one another.”

A tear slipped from her eye and she squeezed them shut, struggling with an answer to a question she could not answer without regret. To deny him, and live in regret for the dashed opportunity to feel his exquisite touch, his body loving hers, or to submit, and despise herself forever for her weakness.

“Beth,” he whispered, “I am your slave. Command me to your will, and I will do anything you desire. Anything….”

To stand firm or submit….she struggled with the decision, and from some place deep inside her, she wondered how sweet and heady it would be to surrender, to yield to Iain and the dark, sensual pleasure that awaited her.

Be Well!

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

News! Sins and Virtues.....

I've been swamped lately, so my apologies for letting the dust collect on this blog! Thanks to everyone who has been emailing me asking me about the next book in the Sins and Virtues series. I have news!!! No cover yet, but news!

So, some of you might have heard that the Spice line from Harlequin was streamalined into part of the HQN umbrella. It's still going to be the same old Spice that readers love, but I think (and please don't hold me to it) that the only difference will be that they are coming out in mass market paperback. As I was told, this was done to increase the ability for wider distribution. Erotica as a whole is a niche market, so, to get their books out to more readers, they've merged. So, that said, that tipped back my release date beacause my Brethren Guardian series was already slotted for release. So, book two is Vanity, and it's releasing Jan, 2013. I know, crazy long wait. But, usually HQN releases a few weeks early, so you might be able to get a copy in December, 2012.

I know readers are anxious, but I hope you'll find it worth the wait. Vanity is a beautiful dark Fey, and as I've promised readers who've emailed me, you will get to see more of Envy, and that bad boy Gluttony as well! I will post the cover, and little juicy excerpts to keep you going until then, I promise!

So, because I've sat down and started plucking away at Vanity, and because we're spending more time in the Unseelie Court in his book, I've been surfing around the net looking for inspiration. Well, I've found it. In my mind, the Unseelie Court is this fantastic, erotic and sensual version of an Aruthrian court. In my mind its clear what it looks like, but readers can now see what is pretty much going on in my grey matter. I think this girl has some mad skill! This video is just gorgeous, and its everything the Unseelie Court is.

Enjoy it! And I will keep you updated as we move along! Thanks so, so much for all your support! It's SO appreciated!
Be Well!

Saturday, September 03, 2011

Oooh la la!!!

Is this not a lovely cover for the French translation version of Sinful. And it has a new title, too, which I am loving!

The colors are pretty, although purple and mauve never really occured to me while writing Sinful, but I have to say these colors give a nice feel. I love, love, the way that very male beringed hand is pressing against her breast, beautiful, and very Wallingford if you ask me.

I think it is a good reflection of Matthew and Jane, and the vibe and color scheme are making me think fall. I love fall....my fav time of year!

So, what do we think, a keeper
Hope everyone is having a lovely long weekend.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Pride and Passion Giveaway!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Pride & Passion by Charlotte Featherstone

Pride & Passion

by Charlotte Featherstone

Giveaway ends October 31, 2011.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Monday, August 08, 2011

Just a girl in the world! Please Read

Yep, that's me. Just an ordinary girl, working for a living, helping to support my family (and yeah, as much as he hates to admit it, I do make waaaay more money that Mr. Charlotte) I'm educated, I'm a labour and delivery room nurse, supporting women through the most wonderful time of their lives--and sometimes the most tragic moments of their lives. I'm a writer, writing whatever I want, embracing love and romance, and the beauty of sexual relationships. I'm a wife--whose husband treats me like an equal, a mother of a daughter, who was was raised for the first five years of her life by a devoted father because she was too ill to go to daycare, and because I made 2/3 more than what my husband made. I'm a daughter, raised by two parents who made me think for myself, who taught me life lessons, and inner strength and conviction, who did not raise me any different from my two brothers. I'm Canadian, born into a country where rights are for both sexes, all colours, all religions. And thank God for that, because if I had not been, my world, and my life might have been drastically different.

It's amazing,and heartbreaking to me that girls in developing countries, and third world countries are still treated without dignity and basic human rights. There are millions of women and girls out there who could make a difference in their family, their village, their city, and their country if they were only allowed to contribute but cannot because they were born female.

It burns my rear end whenever I think of it. I look at my daughter and see a future, a bright future with lots of chances to follow hopes and dreams, and then I think of the female babies being born today around the world and know that they will not have the same chances.

We can do something about this, and I'm going to! In the coming months I'll be announcing the release of Pride and Passion, and also Temptation and Twilight. Those books contain two very strong, independent women, struggling with their sex, and the ideals of men in Victorian England. They overcome and they come out winning! What better way to showcase the empowerment of women, but with Lucy Ashton and Elizabeth York. And what better way to benefit Because I Am A Girl than by sharing proceeds of my royalites with this fabulous group!

More to come on what I will be doing, and more on tCanada's plan, Because I am a Girl to come. But just so you know what I'm talking about, have a quick peek at their introduction video. Or visit, http://plancanada.ca/becauseiamagirl?WT.mc_id=BIAAGFY11GS18 to see what they're about.

I really want to make a difference, and give women and children the freedom and gifts that we in developed countries enjoy, but more than that, have come to expect! I will hope you will join me in the coming months, because after all, we are all just girls!

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Damn Hot! Presenting the Duke of Delciousness!

It's hot as hell here in Southwestern Ontario! OMG, like suffocating hot! And it's not made any better when you have to sit for hours at a time with copyedits of Pride and Passion, and the naughty duke of Sussex! So, thought I'd share this with you, it's a nice, hot scene with Sussex and Lucy. Sussex has just discovered Lucy, in the dark of night making her way to her where someone from her past is waiting for her. Hope you enjoy it--and the picture I used to inspire the Duke of Deliciousness! Thanks to my friend Aly whom not only supplied the picture, but also gave him his nickname!

Stay cool and enjoy! This excerpt is not for anyone under 18 yrs..just sayin! :) Oh, yeah, could still be some typos etc...this is copy edit stage, so please excuse any housekeeping I might have overlooked!

“You were going to meet him!” his gaze narrowed. “You’ve been there before, haven’t you?”

Raising her chin in defiance, she replied, “I don’t believe I owe you any explanations.”

Something snapped inside him, and roughly he reached for her arm, and pulled her to him, then started to make his way deeper into the house, all but dragging her along, Lucy protesting bitterly. In the library he shoved her into the nearest chair and pulled his already loosened cravat from his neck.

“You will start speaking now, or I swear…” he threatened, unable to finish the sentence. His mind was reeling with information, the implications, and the terror of knowing that Lucy was alone on that bloody street, intent on meeting her lover at the House of Orpheus.

“I will not,” she sniffed haughtily as she artfully arranged her skirts. If you want to know you’ll have to drag it out of me--torture me with one of your Templar methods.”

Oh, he’d love to, he thought as he stared down at her, mesmerized into pure idiocy as he focused on her mouth, and thought how he’d like to torture her--he’d start by unpinning that glorious mound of red hair. Shaking himself, he focused on the task at hand.

“I could use a Brethren Guardian tactic,” he growled, unsure if the Brethren even had a torture tactic--certainly none that had ever been implemented in the past two or three centuries. “But you wouldn’t like it.” Which was the entire point of torture--you idiot!

“I am prepared.”

With an arch of a brow, he reached for her reticule and snatched it from her, causing her to jump up in outrage. “That is private! You cannot simply just open my bag and go searching through my effects!”

“Brethren tactic, remember?” She tried to wrestle it out his hands, but he held firmly onto it, while forcing her gently back into the chair. “Why don’t you just explain what you were doing out there, at this time of night, and why you have the coin with the mark of Orpheus? That will do nicely for starters.”

“Never! You’ll have to force it out of me!”

He laughed despite his foul mood. “Dear me, Lucy this is not the crusades, and I’m not going to strap you down on the rack.”

She eyed him speculatively. “We’re enemies.”

“If I were to strap you down…” he shook his head and cleared his throat. Certainly he couldn’t finish the thought because he knew she would not like to hear how damn much he wanted to lay her down on his bed and torture her with pleasure until she screamed and called out his name.

“Now, then,” he muttered, after steadying himself. “You may tell me your tale, or I will go rifling through your reticule. Your choice.”

With a shrug, she nodded to the beaded bag he held in his hands. “Do your worst.”

Such a dramatic little thing, he thought with a smile as he pulled on the corded and tasselled strings that held the purse closed, such fire. It made him want to bed her--hard--riding her into submission. She would burn hot beneath him, every expression naked for him to see, just as her body would be. And her hair, it would resemble a river of flame over his pillow, and he would reach for it, wrap the silken strands around his hand and tilt her face up to look at him as he thrust hard into her, making her accept him. And in her inherent dramatic fashion she would come beautifully--and loudly--for him.

Christ, he was hard as iron standing there, and he lowered the purse in his hands, trying to conceal the fact. He was supposed to be livid with her, not thinking of bedding her. He should be investigating her actions, discovering what the devil she was doing with this coin, but the image of her pale body arching beneath him, of her searching and reaching for the orgasm he masterfully held just out of her reach. By God he would make her wait, make her teeter and fall, only to rise up again. He’d make her want….make her weep…keep her in an acute state of longing and aching need before he gave her what she wanted--just like she had done with him.

Get on with it, he reminded himself. And reluctantly he tore his gaze away from her face, and his mind from the fantasy of making love to her. He would--he vowed. He would have Lucy Ashton, there was no mistaking that.

Drawing the strings, he opened the reticule. There was some money--some coins, a key, presumably to her father’s house, which made him ask the asinine question, “does your father know what you’re about tonight?”

“Oh certainly,” she replied mockingly. “I shook him awake and informed him I was going traipsing through Mayfair in the dead of night to meet with the man who took my innocence.”

It was though an electric bolt lanced through him. He had known what was in Lucy’s past, and he had discarded it. But now, hearing it from her own lips caused a new ravaging in his soul. Was it insufferably hypocritical and priggish for him to wish that he could have been her first? He had dreamt of it for so long, how it would have been between them. He would have taken such good care of her. Would have made it beautiful, and tender--and slow, not rushing her, just allowing her to experience ever nuance of pleasure he and his body to give her.

With a savage oath, he picked through the bag until he came across a folded piece of paper. Her eyes widened, but their expression taunted him, dared him to unfold this bit of private correspondence, which did nothing to ease his riled, and feral--not to mention sexually frustrated mood.

“So this is the damming evidence, is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we?’

Opening it, he read the contents, and saw red as every vessel in his head began to bleed, leaching blood from his brain, to his eyes, until his vision was swimming in crimson.

“God damn it!” he roared. “What the devil you do you mean by obeying this summons? Alone? In the dark? My god, when I think of what might have happened to you. You’re reckless….a danger to yourself,” he huffed, quickly losing his control. “You ought to be tied up for your own good and safety and given to a man who will make it his life‘s purpose to keep you out of mischief!” he had roared those last words, and reached for the cravat, that lay pooled on the table.

“What do you mean by this!” she snapped as he began to bind her hands.

“What does it look like?”

“Untie me at once. Oooh,” she stammered as she stamped her foot against the floor, trying to connect with his foot. The foot wouldn’t hurt half as much as his groin still did. “You cannot do this!”

“I assure you, my love, I can. And I am doing a fine job of it.”

He was done tying her, but his palm had caught her wrist, checking to make certain the cravat was not too tight. He had removed her cloak, and her arms were bare, the skin pale and beckoning as he made an upward brush of his hand along her arm.

“Get your paws off of me,” she gasped, struggling to free herself as she squirmed in the chair. “Cease your manhandling.”

That did it. He stood in front of the chair, bent down to eye level as his hands wrapped around each of the chair’s curved arms. He stared into her vivid green eyes, as glorious as a blade of spring grass and said, “I am not manhandling you.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I am not. Trust me, you will be fully cognizant of the matter when you’ve been manhandled by my paws.”

“Oh, really?” She drawled haughtily. “And what distinction will you make, hmm? What difference will there be from now?”

His mouth came dangerously closer to hers. His cock stiffened, and his bollocks burned with a gut deep ache, but he could not stop himself. Her lips were too close, her mouth so daring and tempting…

“You’ll know, because I’ll do it properly, and you’ll beg me for more of my hands.”

She frowned, crinkling her nose as though she was hit with a most distasteful odour, then her eyes went wide. “You are intoxicated, your grace.”

The revulsion in her expression, the derision in her voice made him feel something more than a little dangerous. “Only mildly inebriated,” he drawled with a sardonic air he did not feel.

“Disgustingly drunk.” Her green eyes narrowed a telling sign she did not find his repartee one bit amusing. “You are foxed. Ripping drunk, sir. Sauced.”

Something he had kept tightly tethered inside suddenly snapped, he straightened, putting distance between them, or else he might fall on her like a ravening lunatic. On the mantle, his glass of whiskey from earlier sat unfinished, and to settle the roiling emotions in him, he strolled to the hearth and reached for it.

Taking a sip of the whiskey, he curled his lips around the crystal tumbler and studied her. The brandy did nothing to settle him. He wanted her with a power that would not be harnessed.

“Sauced is cockney cant, Lady Lucy. Does your lover,” and he spat the word with such vehemence, “speak it to you?”

Her elfin chin tilted upwards in defiance. “You insinuate that he is less than a gentleman, but he is more than you, sir,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, yes,” he thundered, his hand gripping the crystal in a dangerously tight hold. “The very paragon of gentleman like behaviour. The man who shot and killed another in cold blood!”

“You have no proof!” she countered, and the passion in which she defended the bastard made him see red.

“I was there, damn you. I saw him point the gun and shoot Wendell Knighton in the chest from the rooftop. I am telling you, he did it.”

“It…it can’t be.”

“Why? Because you don’t want it to be true? Because you cannot bring yourself to ask a few, very pertinent questions regarding the man you foolishly believe is better than me?”

“He is better than you!” she railed.

“Oh, really?” he drawled, the sound belying the depths of the darkness that he felt. “Well, I for one, would never make you walk through the darkness of night to my carriage that I hid around a corner,” he said with lethal softness.

Something like pain flickered in the depth of her eyes, and he almost despised himself for saying what he had, but jealousy and an unholy unrequited desire was ruling him now, ever since he had read that damned missive.

Her gaze turned mutinous. “Well, I know for certain, that he would not bring me to the very place where he had only just completed fornicating with his mistress!”

Stunned. Adrian knew he stood there with his mouth agog, and his eyes bulging. Whatever her response, he had not expected that.

“The room reeks of her, and her perfume. That same overbearing scent that fouled the air at the musicale. I saw her,” Lucy continued on, her voice taking on a strange tone. “The tall blonde that kept saddling up to you, the one you made no pretence of showing interest in. For all your prudish, priggish ways, you quite forgot your head tonight, did you not? I was not the only one to notice the spectacle you made of yourself.”

Something inside him fired to life, and he replaced the glass atop the mantle, and strode slowly to where she sat, still bound in the chair. “She is not my mistress.”

She snorted in derision, her eyes rolling. “You must think me a fool.”

He caged her within his arms, his hands gripping each of the curved arms of the chair, making her jump, but he shortened the space between them, bending lower until he could look into her eyes, smell her skin, feel the rapid puffs of her breathes against his lips, and his body responded, wanting her, desiring to show her how it could be between them, what sort of lover he would be to her.

“I think you a maddeningly obtuse woman,” he growled, and her eyes widened, either at his tone, or the look in his eyes. “You could have been killed tonight--or worse,” he said, reaching out to stroke her silken cheek with the back of his hand. “You might wonder at that statement, what fate could be worse than death, but I assure you, there are fates out there that would make death appear a blessing. And regardless of that, you walked blindly into the depths of it.”

“Nothing happened,” she whispering, shivering, his touch obviously repulsing her.

Abruptly his hand fell away, only to return to the arm of the chair. “We’ll never know, will we? For I intervened, saving you from a certain distasteful end, I am certain.”

“Thomas would never let anything happen to me.”

“No? He let some stranger come out of the darkness and drag you into an alley before the night watchman could even lift his torch light. Do you think he is still there, waiting for you? Wringing his hands with worry? Or do you think he muscled up and had the carriage turned around in the direction of your home to see if you were safe and sound?”

“You’re crowding me,” she sniffed, trying futilely to press away from him. But ruthless, he dipped his head, forcing her gaze to land on his face.

“Tell me,” he asked, his voice dropping low when his gaze lingered over her moist, pink lips, “why he is so much better than me? Is he handsomer? Wealthier?”

“None of that means anything to me,” she spat. “If you knew me, you would never dare insult me with such innuendos.”

“Than what can it be?” he asked, determined to be without mercy, even if it cost him his pride, a strip of his hide. Damn it, he could no longer go on wondering what this man was, how he could provoke her to such lengths of loyalty, when he would do anything--anything--for her, and yet she would not give him one glance.

“Your grace, this is not at all proper.”

“But you don’t like it when I’m proper. You think me a prig, remember?”

“I think the whiskey has made you say things that you will regret upon the morrow.”

“You think this is all the work of liquor, do you?”

“Of course.” She gazed at him with something like pity. “Obviously it has made you not in your right mind. If you were, then you would not be here. I would not be here, and we would not be having this conversation in this home, under this very peculiar, not to mention, potentially destructive circumstances. You do realize how this appears, do you not? If we were to be discovered-”

“I don’t give a damn how it appears, and every demon in hell could descend upon this room, and I won’t give a farthing until I know if his touch makes your heart flutter? If his kisses leave you witless, breathless, aching for more.”

She blinked, her lips parted, breath stilled for a fraction of a second. Adrian didn’t dare blink, for fear he would miss some nuance of need. A flicker of desire. Her mouth opened, worked, but no words, no sounds were emitted from her beckoning mouth--she just studied him, and he moved closer, insinuating himself to stand between her thighs and loom over her, taking up the space between them.

“Does his hands touch you, caress you so softly you want to weep, to shudder in anticipation? Do you let down your hair for him? Does he brush it over your shoulder and allow his fingers to skim over the delicate curve of your arm? Does he kiss your neck, whisper in your ear?”
“Your grace,” she murmured as she stared intimately into his eyes, seeing something, something he didn’t want her to know. But he was too far gone to think. To see the look of worry, and fear in her eyes. He’d been deprived too long. And yes, the whiskey was swimming in his blood, not intoxicating him, but giving him the courage to shed his reputation for politeness and solicitude, and give free rein to the darker need and passion that were festering inside him--needs that had always been there, the one’s he had been forced to hid from the world.

“Does he murmur all those naughty, highly improper things he had dreamt about? Does he tell, you in a most ungentle manly fashion of all the things he wants to do to you, wicked, wicked things involving beds, and settee’s and darkened corners?” she gasped, color infused her cheeks, “how he wants to give you the greatest pleasure of your life, to feel you squeeze around him as he merges his body with yours?”

Tilting her chin up, he cradled her cheek, allowing his gaze to roam freely over her flushed face.

“Tell me, Lucy,” he asked as his mouth descended in a slow slide, “does his kiss feel like this?”

The feel of her satiny lips against his made him moan. She did not pinch them together, but left them soft, pliable, and he deepened the kiss, mouth opening, tongue aching to reach deep inside, to loose himself to a place he thought never to go, a place to return to, where he had felt solace and warmth and love…

Lucy was caught in a sensual haze. She had never before been spoken to in a such a brazen manner as the duke had just spoken to her. It caused a strange tingling in her belly. His mouth on hers only heightened the feeling, and she tipped her chin up, brushing her mouth against his, as he slowly widened his lips across hers. She wanted more of it, a deeper intimacy, and she pressed forward, her breasts thrusting upward, which made him growl deeply, an answering echo in her own body.

“Yes,” his hand left the arm of her chair, only to wrap gently around her throat, his thumb placed directly over the pulse that beat hard and fast. “Reach for me,” he murmured wickedly, as his palm smoothed down the column of her neck, to the expanse of skin above her bodice. Her body jolted and she pressed in, her hands bound behind her back, making her back arch, and her modest bosom thrust forward. His moan was deep, guttural, making her own body answer to it, while his lips caressing, teasing, his tongue making decadent little sweeps across her lips.

His control was rigid, and she felt….so out of control, especially with the tied cravat around her hands. She mewled, tried to inch to the edge of the chair, to feel his tongue surge within her mouth, and his hand press deeper into skin. But he was patient, making her wait, teasing her, and she would not cry out, not plead with him.

“Tell me,” he murmured against her mouth as palm slowly descended to the front of her bodice, leaving his fingers to trail lightly over her breast bone. “Does he inflame you like this? I’ve barely kissed you and I can feel you panting for more.”

Oooh, she wanted to hate him for that! Wanted to tell him to go the devil, and if she wasn’t a lady, she would spit in his face for that. But strangely, bound like this, with him looming over her, large, and masculine, and utterly controlled, the quip only aroused her more. He was dominant, she the supplicant, and it felt….strangely compelling, and sensual, and unbearably erotic. She, Lucy Ashton, cool, aloof, and always in control, giving up her control, and…aroused by it.

“I will keep you here all night until you say it, Lucy.” His voice dropped to a seductive purr, and the cool of his gray eyes were replaced with a molten silver that made his eyes glitter, and the scar in his dark brow all the more alluring for the danger it represented. His hand, so big and strong slipped down until he brushed his palm over the small rise of her breast. Closing her eyes, her head tipped to the side, and she did nothing but enjoy his touch. The soft, but seductive way he flattened then plumped her small breast.

Nudging her head back, his mouth sought the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear. His tongue trailed out and she jumped as he made little circles with the tip. She was aware suddenly, that he had hooked his fingers beneath the sleeve of her gown and was baring her shoulder as his mouth descended in a series of kisses and licks, a pattern that was making her writhe in the chair.

When his mouth arrived at her shoulder, he licked, then sucked the rounded curve, making her moan out loud, while the entire time he palmmed her breast.

She couldn’t remember what they had been talking of. She was supposed to be answering something--a very improper, smug question, but she couldn’t think clearly enough to remember it exactly. She was caught up in a swirl of emotions that ranged from weakness to strength, to longing to fear.

She had never been this exposed--not even naked. Thomas had excited her, had aroused her passion, but never like this. This….what the duke was making her feel was quite terrifying--and addicting, for she wanted more, and more, to never stop feeling the heady sensations.

His lips were making slow progress to the center of her chest, his palm still a heavy, insistence presence. Despite the fact he was so much taller than her, he did not drop down to his knees, but loomed over her, his head between her breasts, the silken stands of his onyx colored hair sliding against her chin and cheeks. She could feel the movement of his head--could watch but could not touch or clasp him to her. She was immobile, a supplicant for his pleasure. He would claim, take, press upon her kisses and touches and she could do nothing to stop him. And it excited her to know it. To sit as still and quiet as a statue and watch him, study his face, how his eyes were closed, how his lips looked against the paleness of her shoulder and chest. And then suddenly--and she couldn’t understand how or when he had done it, the bodice of her gown slipped down, leaving her in her chemise. She had not bothered with a corset this evening--the gown, and her modest breasts had not required it. She was left sitting there helpless as the duke pulled back slightly and stared at the dark shadows beneath the fine lawn. Puzzled, he glanced up at her, then with a wicked smile, he lowered his head to her breast, turning his face to the side, so she could watch his every torment, and licked the straining tip until the lawn was more than damp--it was wet, and it was clinging to her ruched nipples.

“How interesting,” he whispered, as his thumb circled the small tip. Her body answered, her core clenching and dampening. His gaze had flickered to hers, and she knew she should look away, but she couldn’t. Thomas had been disappointed when he had seen her. He hadn’t said the words, per se, but she had seen it in his eyes. She wondered if Sussex would feel the same.

“Beautiful and dark,” he murmured as he watched his thumb touch her nipple, “such a lovely surprise when I have always imagined your nipples to be a pale pink or a lovely coral. But this…dark and mysterious, a dichotomy for one so fair.”

She had always hated her breasts, small and insignificant with dark nipples that stood out against her flesh. “Please, don’t,” she whimpered when she saw him reach for the strap. His gaze flew to hers, she saw something there, he looked….stricken.

“I cannot leave tonight without seeing them. Touching them.”

Cool air kissed her skin, and Lucy was mortified to discover her breast bared, a small little apple cupped in his hand, with a dark berry for a nipple.

“Cherries,” he murmured, as his thumb and forefinger gently pinched and pulled, making the nipple less rounded, and longer. Then his mouth lowered and she watched with shock and fascination as his tongue caressed the tip, circling around, making her hips move. Arched as she was, it appeared that she was offering herself to him, and he growled, noticing her position, too. He was still bent over her, she could still watch him pleasure her with his mouth, still unable to touch him--to only endure what he would give her. And he was taking his sweet time about too!

Finally he kissed the tip, brought it into his mouth to suckle, and she watched, wicked creature that she was, she watched as her dark nipple was pulled into his mouth, and escaped with a little pop, only to be drawn back, and in the process repeated until she was moving her hips to the rhythm of his mouth. He was playing with her, and he seemed fascinated by it all. His eyes had stayed focused on her breast, and that one dark nipple he had made plump and big, which he toyed with unmerciessly.

It was not enough. She needed more, and with her hands tied, she had little room, so she began to rock, the hardness of the chair, the slide of her linen chemise creeping between thighs eased, yet heightened some of the unbearable ache that was building as he worked his way to torment her other breast.

And before she knew it, her vision dimmed, and she cried out, terrified of what was happening. This had never happened with Thomas.

“What have you done to me!” she cried, and then began to shake. From a distance she heard the duke’s voice, ‘yes, yes, just like that,’ she was practically incoherent, but still she was aware when he told her to move her bottom closer to the edge of the chair--how she was cognizant enough to follow his direction, she had no clue. She felt his arm around her waist, pulling her forward, his knee nudging between her thighs, widening them, the hardness of his thigh riding against her sex--the chemise rubbing between her folds. His mouth was raining havoc on her nipple, his thigh creating release--and ecstasy between her legs.

“Yes, like that,” he was encouraging her in a deep whisper. “Shatter for me. Let me watch.”

Her back was arching more, her rhythm--no rhythm at all, just fast, furious jerks of her hips that were uncoordinated movements, until his hand firmly planted on her waist, his fingers biting into her waist as he took over the task for her, moving her forward and back, onto his thigh as he commanded the rhythm.

“Damn, you are hotter than hell itself like this,” he murmured over her breast. “Come for me, little Lucy, show me the fire that burns in you.”

And then it happened, a feeling of utter euphoria, of floating weightlessly--not a care in the world. She was aware of Sussex there, holding her, keeping her safe, and then she was falling over a sort of precipice, shaking and trembling, and he was there, whispering in her ear, encouraging her to risk the leap. She didn’t want to, didn’t want to give that up, afraid of the unknown after allowing herself to fall over that cliff where the future was unseen and unknown.

“Lucy,” the duke whispered hotly in her ear, a beckoning voice that her body wanted to obey. “Come for me.” he flicked, thumbed her nipple, the wetness of her tongue against her lips, the ride of his thigh brought her up once more to the point she couldn’t think or see, only feel. “yes,” he whispered, “give this to me--your first climax.”

She didn’t want him to know that, that Thomas had never brought her to this point. She hadn’t know that this point even existed back then, but now that she did, she could not bear the shame of having Sussex know that what she and Thomas shared had actually lacked something so dark and complex, so elemental--so passionate. And then, she could no longer think, or dissect, could only allow him to coax her into taking that step over the cliff. She was alone in this, and she was afraid.

“Trust me,” he whispered again. “I’ll catch you when you come down.”

Monday, July 11, 2011

Seduction and Scandal winner!!!

Ok, I know it is Monday, not Sunday, but I have a good excuse for being late in announcing the winners of Seduction and Scandal...I  really do....

You see, I had to work 12hr nights on Friday and Saturday, and then come home Sunday morning to host a bridal shower. Not sure where the error in that occured, but let me just say, that by the time 7 pm rolled around and everything tidied up, I had gone thirty hours without sleep! So, here I am, half dead, and definitely bleary eyed to announce the winners!

congrats to.............................................elaing 8 and dahlia.
If you could, email me at charlotte@charlottefeatherstone.net with your snail mail addy.
Tomorrow, expect the male cast in the Brethren Series to make an introduction!
Till then...to bed!

Tuesday, July 05, 2011

Win it! Seduction and Scandal

Well, the dark and mysterious Lord Black (hero from Seduction and Scandal) has been out (officially) for four days now, and I've been hearing from readers that the're loving Lord Black and the book! Thank you for that!

Now, I would normally have given away a few signed copies before the release date, but Canada Post was on strike for a little over three weeks, so there was no point in holding giveaways, because we didn't know how long the strike would last, and that would just really annoy readers to have won a book and not receive it in the mail!

Ok, so here goes....three copies of Seduction and Scandal to be given away. Nothing hard, just reply to this post, or any upcoming posts, and I'll randomly choose the winners Sunday evening, July 10th

Super easy!

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this is the first summer in which I haven't been buried and suffocating beneath deadlines and I'm taking adantage of it--restocking the creative well, reconnecting with my house, back yard and all the housework I've neglected for months! Spending time with the kidlet, the hubby and the puppies, as well as getting back to two of my passions, cooking and reading! It's been a great couple of weeks, and I hope the rest of the summer stays just as tranquil.

Temptation and Twilight is coming along, and I should have the book reading for my editor by the middle of August. Hard to believe that then the last of the Brethren Guardians will be turned in and my eye will be turned to something else!

Hope you're enjoying your summer, and don't forget to drop by this week for a chance to win Seduction and Scandal!
Be Well!

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Summer Haze

That's what I'm in! And man does it feel good! This is the first summer in nearly five years that isn't totally choked full of writing and deadlines, and it feels great!

I've been away from the blog for weeks now, and I apologize, but I had quite a few things to get off my plate, because I knew I needed to have this summer be calm and pleasant and serene. I really need to rejuvenate the creative muse. So now, I only have 2500 words to write four days a week for the next seven weeks in order to complete the third Brethren Guardian book--Temptation and Twilight! That might sound like a lot, but for me, it's Heaven! I've actually been able to do a bit of promo for Seduction and Scandal, as well as really take my time on edits for Pride and Passion (which I loved how it turned out) as well as taking my time to write some really hot and emotional love scenes for Temptation and Twilight. Beyond writing, I've got my summer reading list all ready and I cannot wait to dive in and indulge. Reading for pleasure has been non existent for me this year and I had hundreds of books to choose from, but the books I'm going to share with you made it to my top!

In the next few weeks  I'll be doing give aways for Seduction and Scandal (and yeah, the Canada Post strike is over so I can actually mail out stuff) as well as posting a brand new scene for Wallingford and Jane. Readers voted, and they wanted to see more of that couple. So, once it's done, I'll post it for a little extra summer treat.

Along wtih reading for pleasure, I'll be doing some reserach reading--I can't say on what, because that would ruin the surprise, but suffice it to say that I have new historical proposal for HQN in the works. I'm REALLY in love with it, and all the characters, and I hope readers--and my editors, will be, too!

Hope you are all enjoying summer, and that you'll come back often to win a book, or read a new excerpt for Pride and Passion--and maybe a little glimpse of Temptation and Twilight, or just to see Jane and Wallingford again!

So, without further adieu, here is my summer list. I've been especially dying for Jennifer Ashley's and Mary Balogh's books! And aren't the covers stunning! Just beautiful.

Jennifer Ashley's writing just speaks to me. I love her writing, her dialogue and her sensual love scenes. She totally won me over with the Mackenzie clan, and I've been salivating for every book! I wish her the best, but man, I wish she could write this series faster!

Mary Balogh is an absolute fav of mine! I love her historical details, her inner monologue and rambling thoughts while in the character's head. I love the way she writes angst and emotions, and I have been DYING for this story since I first read More Than A Mistress! 
I'm new to Meredith's books. I've only read one of her books, Duke of Shadows and loved it. This cover is just so stunning and the back cover copy so compelling, how can I resist reading it? I like to try new to me authors, and I really think that Meredith's books will be the kind that I like to read. Anyone have a favorite of hers?
I'm new to Lorraine, as well, but I have read the two books in this series that lead up to this one. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward this, especially after Barbara reviewed it. We have the same reading tastes, and I know how excited she was about this read, so it only fueled my need to read even more! I love angst and deep emotion in my reads, and I know this will fit the bill! I will be reading this one first!
So, what are you reading? Any good recommendations for me when I'm done these?
Be Well!

Friday, May 13, 2011

Winner!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Wedding of the Century

Hi all! Hope your week went well. I won't be on the blog much for the remainder of the month! Those pesky deadlines! But I will be giving away three-four more copies of Wedding of The Century. And it's easy peasy to win. Just add a comment and you're entered.

Next week I'll be showing you my inspiration for Jase and Blossom, plus giving a bit more background into the story. Abd maybe a little snipped of a scene....

So now, without further adieu, the winner of this week's copy of The Wedding of the Century is.....

Congrats! Just email me at charlotte@charlottefeatherstone.net with your addy and I will get this shipped otu to you.

Now....if the deadlines go well, and the muse is with me, what you like a little to see me write...a little sexy scene wth Lindsay and Anais, or Jane Wallingford. Most votes wins!!!
See ya next week!

Monday, May 09, 2011

Promo~The Wedding of the Century

Happy Monday, I hope all the Mother's out there hada lovely day yesterday, and whether you're the mother of a child, or a special little fur baby, I'd like to extend my wishes (although belatedly) for a happy Mother's Day.

Which, incidently, brings me to today's post. Mothers. So many people have written to me requesting more from the 'Addicted world'. And I thank them for it I was surprised, and honored that they asked. So, when my editor presented me with the opportunity to be included in an anthology that included Mary Jo Putney I was thrilled, yet flummoxed. What would I write about? At about the time I was asked to write the novella, Sinful was just released, and the epilogue I had written to complete the book was floating around the internet. In it, Jane and Wallingford are married, and Jane is carrying his baby. The epilogue was a warm, feel good piece, which was what the publisher wanted for the novella. So, immediately, I began to think. And think. I re-read the epilogue again, and it was then that it hit me. Jase. The little scoundrel who thought girls were yucky would be the perfect hero!

Jase is Lindsay and Anais son (Addicted) and I began to muse about the idea of bringing him together with Jane and Wallingford's daughter Blossom. When I approached my editor with the idea, I was afraid of the reeption. I was already working on the Sins and the Virtues, and the world of Addicted and Sinful seemed far away. But she loved it. And the rest, is the cliched, history.

While writing it, I had to think of Jane and Wallingford, and Lindsay and Anais, not the way they were in their books, but twenty-five years down the road, when they've matured into fifty somethings. I also had to think on what sort of mothers they were to their children. It was surprisingly easy to imagine both Jane and Anais as mothers--but they both have very different mothering styles.

Anais is a very maternal, affectionate woman. Her mothering style is warm, close to smothering, but not cloying. She has the gift of caring deeply, of comforting with embraces and the sharing of secrets. She is the type of mother who would have cried at the door while you tottered off to school. The one most likely to welcome you home from school with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies. In essence, she's the Norman Rockwell mother.

Jane on the other hand is a far different woman. Caring and loving, most certainly, openly affectionate, absolutely. But her style of mothering is far ahead of the average Victorian female. Jane could be considered today's woman. Teaching her daughter to rely on herself, to forge her way in the world so as not to have to rely on a man--a very radical way of thinking in the Victorian era. Janeecourages Blossom to find herself, to be what, and who she is. Despite being a duchess now, Jane is still that down to earth working girl who had
towork and scrape for everything she had.

I like the prevailing differences between Anais and Jane because their ideas and personality have shaped their children. And it was a real delight to see them both interact with their children.

I hope readers will enjoy the novella, and the glimpses of Jane and Anais as they strive to bring their children together, in an union of love of which both have been so blessed to experience.

So, to celebrate the release of The Wedding of the Century, I will be giving away a copy of the book, each week until the beginning of June. Nothing to terribly difficult, just leave a comment thorought the week, and I'll randomly pick a name out of a hat.Winners will be announced on Fridays.

Stay tuned, though, more to come on Lindsay, and that naughty Wallingford as well as Blossom and Jase, and a little surprise for readers about Sarah, and finding her own true love.....

Be Well!

Friday, May 06, 2011

Yummy Inspiration

Sorry to be gone so long. Deadlines, I'm afraid. I'm busy, busy writing Pride and Passion, as well as beginning the last book in the Brethren Guardian series--Temptation and Twilight. If you can believe it, it's actually time to start pondering future proposals. And I know I've already hinted a bit about that on the blog. But, thought I'd share my inspiration for a component of it.

So, just for all my readers, here's a little Friday mojo to put a smile on our faces....the inspiration for two future heroes. Names aren't fully fixed, but personalities are, and here we go...

Say hello to Mr. Born Common and Ruthless. This guy is determined to rise to the top of the Victorian Society, and he's not afraid to get his hands dirty! I'm quite certain he'll make many a ladies swoon with his skills! I love this guy! I can see him as very bad boy hero. You know how I love me a bad boy, especially when he falls hard for the heroine! This guy is going to look fantastic, especially in a cravat and shiny boots! I was thinking of the name Jake, or Nathan for him. What do you think? He needs a more 'common' less stuffy aristocratic name. Any thoughts or ideas?

And here is Mr. Dark and Brooding. Oh, how I love how masculine this guy is. He's perfect for the character I'm thinking of. He's kind of the quiet, skulking, itense type, maybe a bit ruthless, too, and definitely sexually intense! He looks like he could seduce the knickers off a nun!

So, what do you think? Inspiring?
Happy Mother's Day to everyone!

Friday, April 22, 2011

Favourite Things, and Writing Ways

This is just an occasional blog post to let readers know me on a bit more personal level. I'm not out and about much on the net, mostly because of my writing and home committments, but also because I'm rather shy. I absolutely loathe talking about myself, and the limelight is certaintly nothing I've ever aspired to. Writing for me is something as necessary as breathing. I MUST get these stories and characters down and out of my head. I write books, not for fame but because I must. I think that is the way with most writers. It's a compulsion, and one that must be heeded, or we become miserable and unfocused. Funny, how hearing strange voices, and seeing strange scenes unfold in our mind keep us author's sane!

Lately, I've thinking about story telling, and writing, and I've realized that authors are not the only group of people that make people feel. To make them think, laugh and cry. A good songwriter can do the very same thing. And in fact, I have always responded to music with good lyrics, and a haunting voice in a much more visceral way than iwhile reading. Certainly, many books have touched me and changed me--shaping me, as it were. But when I compare those to music, I realize that music on the whole has inspired me much more. So many times when I'm reaching deeply inside--me--or a character, I can turn to music to get the physical feel. So many readers have asked how I connect to my characters and bring out their feelings until they bleed onto the page. Well, I think the way I do it is to dig deep. To think of some tragic, painful thing in my past and endure the physical manifestations the memory and emotions invoke. And I write them down. To be a character writer you cannot be afraid of what you might find, or what you might write. The same I think must go for songwriters who are writing a song of love, or pain, or longing. They, too must look deep, and face their life experiences to bring forth the words that they will sing. It's almost more intimate, singing those words, I think, then having others read them. For me, there's the connection of voice, and sound, along with the words. YOu can close your eyes and still hear and feel, but when you close your eyes with your book, you're left with only the remants of feelings the writer's words left with you. And let me tell you, this girl will blow your mind with her songwriting ability. She has certainly blown mine!

For a couple of years now I have been a devoted follower of the Brit phenom Adele. Never have I been so profoundly affected by a songer writer's lyrics, emotion, and voice as I have hers. For just being 21yrs of age, Adele packs a lifetime of pain, longing, love and heartache into her songs. This is the type of songwriter who can make people feel. Make them think, and damn it. make them cry.

To me she feels so real, so raw, and she's one of my most 'favourite things' in the world. Someone Like You is the song I go to when I need to dig deep. When I need to connect with a character who is feeling raw and exposed, one who is aching for the other. One listen (usually) has me crying, and feeling, and after I stop the iPod, I can immerse myself in my world--Victorian England, while still feeling part of her world.

So, without further adieu, have a listen to this song (might want to keep a kleenex handy). Watch her performance, her passion, and remember how young she is. She must be an old soul to be able to convey the power of this song so effectively.
Enjoy! And for everyone who celebrates Easter, Happy Easter!

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Ssssh....I'm not supposed to be here....

Yeah...bad me. I'm supposed to be writing. You know, the muse standing over me with a whip, flogging me every time my mind wanders...and it's been wandering A LOT today.

My favorite part of writing, is daydreaming about a new project. In a month or two it will be time to put said  'new project idea' into a formal proposal. This new idea of mine is like a bad weed, taking over, sucking out all light and thought, until all I can think of is it!!!

So, to break the spell, I went trolling through the net, persumably under the guise of searching for intimate bedroom attire for the newly married Victorian woman.....I came up with zero, but I found this picture, which of course, got me thinking again about that 'I cannot think of this' project.

Anyhoo, doesn't it look fun and fluffy? I don't have any sisters, and with my hectic schedule of writing and working and trying to be a wife and mother, I admittedly have lost contact with most of my friends. But when I look at this picture, it tugs at my heartstrings. It makes me think of female relationships and how wonderful and cozy they can be. I always wanted a sister....and I know my new heroine has LOTS of sisters....hey, maybe this is them, along with an eccentric aunt and her companion....

Just saying...ok, the muse is telling me playing time is over!
Not sure when she'll let me back out to play!
Be Well!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Award Winner...Who Me?

Ah, yeah....wow! I can't believe it, I won something, and it's involving Sinful, and that baaaad boy Lord Wallingford! See, I knew that somewhere in the world, someone would see and love the dark beauty that is Matthew, the Earl of Wallingford! And if you ever wondered about that gorgeous hunk of man on the cover, well, he's very much in keeping with the hero of the book, right down to that slightly defiant stance!

I'm very proud of all my books, but I'll admit that Addicted and in particular Sinful have a special place in my heart. I don't think I'll ever forget Wallingford, and really, he still owns a piece of my heart!

So, thank you so much to The Romance Reviews, and their readers and followers who voted Sinful as the 2010 Best Erotic Historical Romance! Thank you, gracie, merci beau coup...and if anyone knows of any other languages I could say thank you in, please let me know!!!!

As an aside, Wallingford, and Lindsay from Addicted can be found once more in the novella Seduced By Starlight. It is the love story involving their children. This anthology releases at the end of May, and I'll be having lots of promo stuff running for it! Be sure to check back in the coming weeks!
So, I'm rejuventated and revitalized, knowing that something is going right with my writing!!! Back to Sussex, aka The Duke of Delicousness.... :)

Be well....it's Tuesday, and there's only three more sleeps till the weekend! (I never count Friday night in there, because that's the  beginning of the w/e, it's also beer and burgers and homemade mac and cheese night at Castle Featherstone!)
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