I'm at Steamed! blog today talking about a Greek inventor and a famous chef.
My steampunk romance, Asher's Invention, goes on sale today!
Here's the blurb:
And an excerpt:
England, 1870s
Never in her worst imaginings had she thought it would come to this. Minerva tilted back the drooping feather of her hat and wiped a raindrop from her nose. All day the rain had been unrelenting. The draughty third-class train carriage had rattled and jolted all the way down from Manchester. She couldn't afford a hansom cab from the station, so she had walked, and now she shivered on the porch of a fashionable Kensington villa, waiting for her door knock to be answered. Mizzle and murkiness surrounded her. A chill had settled deep in her bones. A chill that had started days ago. Raising her gloved hand to knock once more, she started back as the door silently swung open. A tall, cadaverous manservant peered out at her.
Minerva drew herself upright, conscious of her unprepossessing appearance. "Is Mr. Quigley at home?"
The servant assessed her in a blink of an eye, pausing only a fraction before granting her entry. "Who shall I say is calling?" he asked as he led her into the front parlor.
"Tell him it's Miss Lambkin. Miss Minerva Lambkin." She had debated the wisdom of giving her real name--more than likely Asher would refuse to see her at all--but she would not resort to pretense. Either he would see her or he would not. If he did not...
The man retreated and left her alone in the warm parlor. With a sigh, she set down her carpetbag, took off her sodden cloak and drew closer to the crackling fire. As she peeled off her damp gloves and rubbed her hands, she surveyed the graciously furnished room, her curiosity mingling with a feeling of suspense. She noted the walls hung with striped silk, the black walnut settees richly upholstered in rose damask, the fireplace carved from the finest Italian marble. Asher Quigley was no stranger to wealth these days.
Here's the blurb:
Five years ago, Asher Quigley broke his
engagement to Minerva Lambkin, believing she was an accomplice in a scheme to
steal his prototype for a wondrous device. Minerva swore she was innocent,
though the thief—and Asher’s mentor—was her own father.
Now, sheer desperation has driven Minerva to
Asher’s door. Her father has been kidnapped by investors furious that he’s
never been able to make the machine work. Only Asher, now a rich and famous
inventor in his own right, can replicate the device. He’s also become a hard,
distant stranger far different from the young idealist she once loved.
Despite their troubled past, Asher agrees
to help Minerva. He still harbors his suspicions about her, but their reunion stirs
emotions and desires they both thought were buried forever. Can they rebuild
their fragile relationship in time to save her father and their future together?
And an excerpt:
Asher's Invention
England, 1870s
Never in her worst imaginings had she thought it would come to this. Minerva tilted back the drooping feather of her hat and wiped a raindrop from her nose. All day the rain had been unrelenting. The draughty third-class train carriage had rattled and jolted all the way down from Manchester. She couldn't afford a hansom cab from the station, so she had walked, and now she shivered on the porch of a fashionable Kensington villa, waiting for her door knock to be answered. Mizzle and murkiness surrounded her. A chill had settled deep in her bones. A chill that had started days ago. Raising her gloved hand to knock once more, she started back as the door silently swung open. A tall, cadaverous manservant peered out at her.
Minerva drew herself upright, conscious of her unprepossessing appearance. "Is Mr. Quigley at home?"
The servant assessed her in a blink of an eye, pausing only a fraction before granting her entry. "Who shall I say is calling?" he asked as he led her into the front parlor.
"Tell him it's Miss Lambkin. Miss Minerva Lambkin." She had debated the wisdom of giving her real name--more than likely Asher would refuse to see her at all--but she would not resort to pretense. Either he would see her or he would not. If he did not...
The man retreated and left her alone in the warm parlor. With a sigh, she set down her carpetbag, took off her sodden cloak and drew closer to the crackling fire. As she peeled off her damp gloves and rubbed her hands, she surveyed the graciously furnished room, her curiosity mingling with a feeling of suspense. She noted the walls hung with striped silk, the black walnut settees richly upholstered in rose damask, the fireplace carved from the finest Italian marble. Asher Quigley was no stranger to wealth these days.
The door swung open, accompanied by a whirring noise. Minerva straightened in surprise as a large mechanical dog entered the room. Its multi-jointed body was made of polished brass joined together by hundreds of minute rivets. It had ruby eyes, copper claws and a small, articulated tail. She'd seen automaton animals before, but never one so detailed. The dog lifted its head and approached her, then stopped. Its red eyes glowed as it crouched and bared steel fangs at her.
More intrigued than afraid, Minerva inched closer. A menacing growl rumbled out of the dog's mouth.
"Cerberus! Sit." A man she recognized all too clearly strode into the room.
More intrigued than afraid, Minerva inched closer. A menacing growl rumbled out of the dog's mouth.
"Cerberus! Sit." A man she recognized all too clearly strode into the room.
Her nerves seized. She lurched upright, knocking her hat askew. Hotly aware of her bedraggled state, she pushed the damp feathers away from her face. This was not how she wished to meet Asher Quigley again. In fact, she'd wished never to meet him again. Only desperation had driven her to his doorstep.
He seemed equally displeased at making her reacquaintance. He stopped and held himself some distance away, his expression stiff and unwelcoming, as if she were a proselytizer about to press a pamphlet on him.
He seemed equally displeased at making her reacquaintance. He stopped and held himself some distance away, his expression stiff and unwelcoming, as if she were a proselytizer about to press a pamphlet on him.
Another six sentences to share from my steampunk romance, Asher's Invention which goes on sale June 25! Here, Asher and Minerva are talking about the invention he’s worked on for many years, and which Minerva’s father stole from him.
Asher bit his tongue. Never would he admit to her how many hours he had slaved.
He shrugged. “I’ve dabbled in it on occasion, when I have some spare time, which is not often these days.”
“You’ve no wish to prove your theory correct?”
“The only theory I’ve proven is that men will do anything for money.”
Visit Six Sentence Sunday for other writers' contributions.
Asher bit his tongue. Never would he admit to her how many hours he had slaved.
He shrugged. “I’ve dabbled in it on occasion, when I have some spare time, which is not often these days.”
“You’ve no wish to prove your theory correct?”
“The only theory I’ve proven is that men will do anything for money.”
Visit Six Sentence Sunday for other writers' contributions.
I've been tagged for 'Lucky Seven' by my writing friend Whitney E-K! Lucky Seven involves going to page 77 of your current manuscript, counting down 7 lines, and then posting the next 7 sentences on your blog.
My 7 lines come from a Victorian historical (with steampunk elements) which I recently completed.
But now she’d transformed into something else, some shameless creature with primitive, insistent urges. Or perhaps it was Julian who was the cause. Perhaps she’d always carried these latent feelings buried deep within, and it was only Julian who could bring them to the surface.
The idea perturbed her. She screwed her eyes shut, but still Julian’s image floated in her mind. His bronzed body was a thing of beauty, the sculpted lines of muscle, bone and sinew a hymn of virility.
She must get away from him.
My 7 lines come from a Victorian historical (with steampunk elements) which I recently completed.
But now she’d transformed into something else, some shameless creature with primitive, insistent urges. Or perhaps it was Julian who was the cause. Perhaps she’d always carried these latent feelings buried deep within, and it was only Julian who could bring them to the surface.
The idea perturbed her. She screwed her eyes shut, but still Julian’s image floated in her mind. His bronzed body was a thing of beauty, the sculpted lines of muscle, bone and sinew a hymn of virility.
She must get away from him.
Stop by at Night Owl Reviews romance blog where I'm talking about The Allure of Steampunk. There's also a chance to win a copy of my book, Asher's Invention.
I'm taking part in Six Sentence Sunday.
Here are my six sentences from my soon-to-be released steampunk romance, Asher’s Invention. In this scene, the heroine, Minerva, has just met her ex-fiancé, Asher, for the first time after five years.
In the intervening years his chest had filled out, his shoulders broadened. Dressed in his velvet-trimmed coat, brocade vest and silk cravat, he cut a dashingly handsome figure, though he was no slave to fashion, as evidenced by his unfashionably long hair and lack of sideburns. But all lingering youthfulness had been stripped from him, and he seemed more cynical and aloof than his nine-and-twenty years warranted.
Had she done this? She and her father? Were they responsible for the tautness of his lips, the adamantine glint in his eyes?
Here are my six sentences from my soon-to-be released steampunk romance, Asher’s Invention. In this scene, the heroine, Minerva, has just met her ex-fiancé, Asher, for the first time after five years.
In the intervening years his chest had filled out, his shoulders broadened. Dressed in his velvet-trimmed coat, brocade vest and silk cravat, he cut a dashingly handsome figure, though he was no slave to fashion, as evidenced by his unfashionably long hair and lack of sideburns. But all lingering youthfulness had been stripped from him, and he seemed more cynical and aloof than his nine-and-twenty years warranted.
Had she done this? She and her father? Were they responsible for the tautness of his lips, the adamantine glint in his eyes?
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| Snelvis |
It's officially winter here in Sydney. Some people hate the cold season, but I love this time of year. It's perfect for a hermit like me - crisp morning walks, warm fires, lamb shank soup, and curling up with a good book. It's also soccer season for my son, which means muddy boots, smelly shirts, and rugging up on Sunday mornings.
I'm also looking forward to the release of Asher's Invention later this month. This is my first steampunk story, and I loved writing it, as it was such a departure from the contemporary romances I'd been focussed on up till then. I had so much fun that I wrote a sequel, and luckily my editor liked it too. Asher's Dilemma will be coming out in January 2013!
I'll be doing a bit of a blog tour to promote Asher's Invention. Blog stops include:
Jun 13 Night Owl Romance
Jun 27 Carina Press
Jun 27 You Gotta Read Reviews
Jun 29 Basia's Bookshelf
Jun 30 Coffee Time Romance
Jul 1 Romancing The Book
Jul 4 Keziah Hill
Jul 5 Book Lovers Inc
Goodreads
BookBub
