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To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood…

Monday, October 29th, 2012
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The election results are in…. and so is the winner of my latest release – Suzi Love…

Gosh, here in New Zealand I’m watching the developing ‘Sandy’ perfect storm with trepidation. I can’t imagine what that must be like if you live in it’s path. We’re lucky here in New Zealand. We don’t get hurricanes, but we do have a lot of very strong winds. It’s not unusual for planes at Wellington airport to have to land in 120kph winds. So I cannot imagine what 90 mph winds are like! Please take care…

To take your mind off the storm, I thought I’d share a snippet of my latest Wicked Wagers trilogy release, TO CHALLENGE THE EARL OF CRAVENSWOOD, book#3 in the trilogy. I’m really sad the wagers have finished. They were great fun to write.

Here’s the blurb-

To live happily ever after…

Henry St. Giles, the Earl of Cravenswood, longs to find his soul mate. Now that his two best friends, both reformed rakes, are happily married, the need becomes an obsession. When they challenge him to find a wife by the end of the season or marry his neighbor, the innocently alluring Lady Amy Shipton, he can’t believe his luck. He wins, either way. But a darkened garden, a case of mistaken identity, a drunken kiss, and a dropped emerald earring, leads Henry on a Cinderella hunt. He knows the woman he held in his arms could be the one he’s searched for all his life. He just has to find her.

Lady Amy Shipton is determined to marry for love instead of sharing her husband like her mother did. So why did she let her handsome neighbor and romantic fantasy, the Sinful Saint as he’s called for his bedroom prowess, seduce her in his garden? And what can she do when in the middle of their passionate encounter; he whispers another woman’s name. Now Henry is hunting the owner of the earring Amy left behind, and she’s determined to retrieve it before her identity is revealed. She’s not about to give her father the ammunition he desperately wants to force her down the aisle.

Want a taste of Henry’s story?

“Do you ride, Lady Amy?”

Turning to look up at Henry, Any froze as she met his intense gaze. He stood looking at her in a manner he’d never used before. Like a starving man at a feast. Just like Marcus sometimes looked at Sabine. Her heart stuttered as did her mouth.

Today had altered the balance between them. They’d shared something special. Witnessed something personal and unique, and she was having difficulty keeping her feelings for him in check. She had to move their relationship back to formality in order to keep her distance. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Henry, she didn’t trust herself.

“P-Pardon?”

“Ride…”

He looked utterly gorgeous. Speaking of starving… He looked good enough to eat. She put her hand on her chest and felt her heart begin to race wildly.

His tawny fringe was pushed to the side highlighting long sweeping lashes, which lowered slowly as his gaze swept down her figure, then lifted again so that his stare captured hers. One perfect eyebrow lifted.

Amy licked her lips in order to pry them open. Her mouth suddenly dry. “Yes, my lord. I do ride.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to accompany me on a ride in the morning. The Roman city ruins near Silchester are said to be worth investigating, and it’s only a half-hour’s ride from here.”

Breathe. “I’d like that, thank you.”

Amy found his continued perusal disconcerting. He’d never paid her this much attention before. From a distance he’d been enchanting, but up close he hummed with vibrancy, heat radiating from his body in waves.

“I haven’t had the occasion to formally thank you for helping Sabine. You’ve made my good friend, Lord Wolverstone, very happy.”

Her face began to heat. “It was nothing that anyone else would not have done. Marcus was the hero. He got to Sabine in time to save her.”

His smile momentarily slipped, why she was not sure.

“I’m not sure many young ladies would have helped as you did. Not when they could become Countess Wolverstone by remaining silent.”

There seemed to be some hidden meaning behind his words. His face was alert, searching for…what?

“Marcus did not love me.”

Henry laughed. “That has not stopped women before. The ranks of nobility are full of marriages void of any love or real affection.”

Amy promptly scolded herself. Of course he would laugh at her notion. Yet it hurt. After listening to his late night discussions with his dead brother, she thought Henry wanted what she did—love.

Perhaps not. He was looking for the owner of the earring even when he’d whispered another’s name. Men. They were all alike. Love was convenient when required to gain what they most desired. Trouble was love lasted only as long as the pleasure.

She rolled the stem of her empty glass between her fingers and wished Sabine would call them all into super.

She risked a glance at him. She wished she could think of something clever to say. Instead she burbled forth quite forcefully, “I will only ever marry for love.”

“Very wise,” he replied.

Was he teasing? She was saved from further conversation by a servant. Henry stepped aside to let the man refill her glass. As soon as he’d left, Henry took the seat beside her on the settee. She gulped back a moan. She should have invited him to sit, but his presence was throwing her off-kilter.

A gleam entered his eyes. He leaned close, his thigh touching her leg through the silk. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

Amy glanced at him uncertainly, wondering if he were making fun of her, but his countenance screamed seriousness. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you in love? Come, it’s a simple enough question.”

Amy looked quickly around the room, was he serious? As if she would tell him such personal information. She looked across to Marcus and caught his eye, pleading for help. He simply lifted his glass and smiled back at her.

“Marcus is considered to be an extremely handsome man. He has broken many hearts in his time. Not intentionally, of course.”

She tried to repress her flush of embarrassment. “I’m sure you’re right, but I think of Marcus as purely a friend.” She had not meant to have her words come out so sharp but really! “Why are the secrets of my heart so important to you, Lord Cravenswood? Perhaps you’d like to share who your heart belongs to?”

There, that will put him in his place. Who is Millicent? But to her horror he picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. They scorched her skin even through her glove. Suddenly he gave her a slow, charming, devilish grin that seared all her nerve endings. “There are many secrets I’d like to share with you, my sweet.”

She opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again, deciding it wiser to halt this conversation before she got herself into real trouble.

At her muteness, the gleam in Henry’s eyes intensified. “For instance, did you know men find the thrill of the hunt very exciting?”

Hunt? Amy’s eyes flared and she stifled a gasp. Was he indicating his hunt for the owner of her earring? Did he know it was hers or was he simply ferreting for information?

At her confusion he leaned further toward her and whispered, “However, it’s what we do once we’ve caught our pray that is pleasurable.”

Scandalous. His words were scandalous.

Tell me where the ancient ruins Henry wants to visit with Amy are located, and one lucky commenter will WIN a eBook copy of To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood. Open internationally. Closes 31 October.

Isn’t It Ironic….

Monday, September 24th, 2012
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I was reading the newspaper this morning and I read the tragic news that a New Zealander has been killed while walking through Kew Gardens in London, England. It was a terribly stormy day and a large tree branch snapped off and killed her.

Now if you know anything about New Zealand, it’s that we get a lot of wind.  A lot of WIND. I live in the Wellington, nicknamed the windy city. My last two flights into Wellington airport, this month, have seen us landing in 80kph and 100kph winds. I feel so sorry for this unnamed woman and her family. How ironic to travel to the other side of the world to be killed by a falling tree in a storm.

One thing we strive for as authors is to ensure we have believable story lines. How believable would the above situation be if I’d simply written that story line in a book? I hear you using the word, ‘contrived’!

In my latest Brava release, Invitation to Scandal, May 2012, I had to find a way for my hero, Rufus Knight, Viscount Strathmore, to find my heroine Rheda Kerrich, with a barrel of unstamped (smuggled) brandy. Hmmmm–without looking contrived.

I came up with the idea of her trying to deliver a barrel to her friend, widowed Meg, and wouldn’t you know it, ironically she gets trapped by the barrel. Here’s the scene…

Like every other aspect of her day, Rheda was denied her wish. The rider pulled on the reins, and the powerful steed came to a sliding halt in the middle of the road, gravel spraying through the air.

Her shoulders drooped. “Perfect,” she uttered to no one but herself.

The stallion pranced on the road in tune to the pounding surf, its owner stroking its neck with a large gloved hand. He took in her situation and seemed to whisper something in his horse’s ear. Rheda licked her lips nervously. Would he be friend or foe?

The pair trotted across the field in her direction and halted in front of her.

“Are you in need of assistance?” His voice was velvety smooth, yet commanding.

She saw two dark eyes rimmed with lovely long eyelashes, and a wide soft mouth. With a mouth that soft he would be very responsive. She might even be able to control him. The stallion before her was impressive. He would make a fine mate for her mare, Desert Rose.

“He won’t bite,” the man added, misinterpreting her interest in his horse as fear.

With some reluctance she lifted her gaze to the owner of such a beautiful piece of horseflesh. Her heart tumbled in her chest, flipping and flopping as if caught in the thundering surf behind her.

Beautiful.

She shook her head. The word applied equally to the stallion’s rider. She had never seen such an arresting man. Her pulse hitched as she drank him in, the pain from the barrel momentarily forgotten. When she reached his dark eyes she shivered. He had a look of danger about him.

His eyes were almost the same color as his horse’s glossy coat, a luminous rich brown. His breeze-swept chestnut hair was fashionably cut and softened the hard planes of his handsome face. His countenance screamed he was a man not to be messed with.

Like his regal mount when he sought his mares, this man could mesmerize any female he chose to conquer—she was sure of it.

Rheda tried to move her foot so the pain would distract her from the knowledge that this man’s beauty disturbed her more than it should.

To hide her reaction to him she bit out a reply. “Of course I need some help.”

His good looks sharpened as anger washed over his face. She bit her bottom lip anxiously. Pain did not lend her to manners, but with nothing more than a blink his anger disappeared to be replaced by a heart-skipping smile. He looked truly splendid.

“You appear to be stuck.” His expression turned curious and his voice held amusement. Yet underneath his cool, refined composure there simmered a dangerous, exciting energy.

She would not be intimidated. She raised her head in a show of daring. Rheda Kerrich did not frighten easily. Besides, the man wore the appearance of a gentleman, not the uniform of a Revenuer. Rheda usually found gentlemen easy to handle. Men rarely kept up with her sharp wit, and her intelligence baffled them. They could not tell if she was joking at their expense. It was enough to drive most away.

Fueled by this logic, she uttered, “Oh, well done. What great powers of deduction.” He still did not move. “Do not just sit there. Get off your fine mount and help me move this barrel.”

Her boldness hid the small tremors of fear pulsing through her blood. They were alone on a deserted road. She was now at the mercy of this stranger.

He dismounted in one graceful move. Standing, he stood head and shoulders above her. His broad shoulders were garbed in an expensive riding coat that looked like he’d slept in it, but the covering could not camouflage the muscled physique hidden beneath. The cut molded and enhanced. He radiated strength. This man was not a typical aristocratic fop.

She should be careful.

Her gaze dropped and took in his powerful thighs. She followed them down to where they disappeared into knee-high boots, covered in a fine layer of dust. He must have ridden some distance. Where was this beautiful stranger from?

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat.

She glanced back to his face, held speechless for once in her life by the power of his beauty.

He finally spoke. “You are uncommonly rude to a person who has stopped to offer assistance.” His tone implied hurt.

“You have been here several minutes,” she said between clenched teeth, “and yet you still have not made a move to help.”

He walked toward her. “How rude of me. I’m Rufus Knight, Viscount Strathmore, at your service,” and he bowed low.

I’m sure ironic things happen around us every day. So, I’m no longer going to read a story and say, ‘that would never happen’, or ‘that sounds a little too neat’. Life isn’t neat.  It’s messy and unpredictable.

What’s the most ironic thing that’s happened to you lately? Or that you’ve heard about? Share a story and be in to win a copy (either book or eBook format) of Invitation to Scandal. Open internationally, closes Sunday 30th September.

The winner is ……. CatS! I’ve emailed you privately CatS. You’ve won a copy of Invitation to Scandal.

I’m talking about villains – those characters we love to hate.  There are villains and then there are villains. For instance, you would have to call both Salvatore brothers (Vampire Dairies) villains, they are in fact killers. But Damon in particular captures my heart. He’s so torn. He never wanted to be a vampire. Stefan turned him against his will, and yet, of the two brothers, he became the most evil. He tries hard to be good and to win Elena’s heart, yet falls at every turn, only to redeem himself and repeat the cycle.

Then there are truly evil villains with no redeeming characteristics at all, such as Darken Rahl from Legends of the Seeker. He is simply about power, money and greed. He doesn’t care who he has to hurt, kill, or destroy to achieve his aim of ruling the world. He’s totally unlikeable, in fact, very easy to hate. You are rooting for him to get his comeuppance and are right there with the Seeker shoving the blade through his dark heart.

I must admit I’m partial to both types of villains (if the story is done well). Let’s face it; most of us ladies love the bad boy. The man we can still see a glimmer of good in if only we could love him he might reform. However, I do love a story where it starts with a man very evil, like Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix) in the Gladiator. He was creepy, a bit disturbed and evil to his core. I loved watching him get beaten.

My villain in INVITATION TO SCANDAL (May 2012) is truly evil. You don’t learn his identity until near the end of the story, and I did that so it would be more fun and interesting for the reader. I always find hidden evil is far more interesting in any story, be it a movie, TV program or book! I love being able to try and follow clues or hints from the writer as to who the baddie might be and I’m extra happy when I’m surprised.

Then again, sometimes I like knowing who the villain is from the start so I can take satisfaction from watching him be destroyed. Rufus Swell’s character in A Knight’s Tale, was like that for me. I loved watching him get beaten at the end. Having seen how he treated everyone from the beginning made me really want him to lose.

In Invitation to Scandal, I don’t promise to surprise you, but I hope you are at least unsure of the villain’s identity for most of the book.  Drop me a line and let me know at which chapter you guessed who the spy in Invitation to Scandal is.

Today I’m giving away a copy of Invitation to Scandal. Tell me who you think is the sexiest villain (male or female) and which villain you’d like to personally redeem. I pick Damon Salvatore. I’ll draw the winner on Sunday 3 June and its open internationally.

PLUS – don’t forget my Invitation to Romance blog tour is still on. You still have a chance to collect all the clues and win a $200 Gift Card from Amazon or B&N, as well as a collection of 30 signed books from various historical romance authors. Visit my website www.bronwenevans.com for more details.

Invitation to Scandal’s First Review…

Sunday, March 25th, 2012
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The first review of INVITATION TO SCANDAL is in

RT Book Review
INVITATION TO SCANDAL
by Bronwen Evans

Genre: England, Historical Romance
Sensuality: HOT
Setting: England 1809

RT Rating 4 Stars

With snappy dialogue, lively action, a hero that believes in honor above all and a strong heroine who loves fiercely, Evans’ story will have readers laughing and crying, savoring every scene.

Rheda Kerrich has been helping the townspeople and trying to hold on to the family home for her brother in her own unconventional way, as local smuggler “Dark Shadow.” She has one last shipment to deal with before retirement, but then Rheda gets stuck under a barrel of French brandy and is found by Rufus Knight, Viscount Strathmore.

He is immediately attracted to Rheda, thinking she is a simple village girl. Rufus is in Kent to find the smuggler and decides to seduce Rheda, but he will not rest until he finds the Dark Shadow — the only one who can clear his father of treason. But the closer he gets to Rheda and the truth, the more dangerous things become. (BRAVA, May, 320 pp., $15.00)

Read more…

Reviewed By: Jill Brager

Invitation to Scandal is set in the coastal village of Deal, Kent, a notorious smugglers’ stomping ground. I thought of the premise for the book when I read a Daniel Defoe poem about smuggling and it mentions Deal.

“If I had any satire left to write,
Could I with suited spleen indite,
My verse should blast that fatal town,
And drown’d sailors’ widows pull it down;
No footsteps of it should appear,
And ships no more cast anchor there.
The barbarous hated name of Deal shou’d die,
Or be a term of infamy;
And till that’s done, the town will stand
A just reproach to all the land”

Daniel Defoe 17th Century

But I thought to make it more interesting, the smuggler would be female. There were so few ways a LADY could make a living in the early 1800′s and it seemed logical, given Rheda Kerrick lived near Deal, that she’d devise a means to save her brother’s inheritance.

Of course she’d not counted on the devilishly handsome, Viscount Strathmore, Rufus Knight, deciding that the smuggler called Dark Shadow, her, was the key to clearing his father’s name. Nor did she expect his wicked attempts at seduction to have her craving his touch…

Here’s an excerpt – Rufus has helped to free Rheda from being trapped by a very large barrel of French brandy…

Rheda’s eyes slowly flickered open, and she saw a canopy of blue sky above her. For several minutes, while she recovered her senses, she lay on the fragrant grass, enjoying the sunshine and the sensation of firm, strong hands expertly stroking her legs . . .

She bolted into a sitting position and tried to slap off the far-too-familiar hands.

“What do you think you are doing?” she forced out in a wobbly voice, her body heating with shame. She’d actually been taking pleasure in his touch. She tried to gather her legs to her chest, but his hands tightened around her ankles.

“I am merely trying to help the blood flow back into your limbs.” He flashed a smile so roguish it had Rheda nearly succumbing to his charm. Then he added, “It has been the most pleasant of tasks. You have extremely pretty legs.”

Don’t blush. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

 “Shall I continue?” Without waiting for a reply he slid his long, lean fingers up under her dress.

She followed their path with her eyes. She seemed frozen—his touch calming her into submission—much as her touch did with her horses. He stroked up her stocking-covered leg, the sensation very seductive. It was shockingly so, once his fingers met the bare skin of her thigh.

Rheda felt a sudden warmth pool in her stomach. She had never experienced such a purely primal, feminine reaction to a man’s touch before. But then she’d never allowed any man such freedom with her person.

She dragged her gaze from his hands, up his broad chest and wide shoulders, onward past his perfectly tied cravat.  This man was too handsome for her own good. Like a poisonous eel, he looked harmless, but a touch could be deadly.

His eyes darkened, reminding her of the hot chocolate she’d drunk this morning. They locked with hers, causing heat to sear along her nerve endings, where previously she’d had no feeling at all.

“Your legs may experience some tingling once the circulation starts working properly.”

Oh, she tingled all right.

“That is enough, thank you.” He did not loosen his grip on her ankles. “My legs are perfectly fine.”

“Now that I have freed you,” he said in a voice as smooth as the fine French brandy she held in her barrel, “you will return the favor by helping me.”

The hairs on her arms prickled. This could not be good. If he discovered her true identity, it would get back to Daniel. If that happened, Daniel would definitely put an end to her activities. She needed more time . . . Not only that, they could be in serious trouble, accused of participating in free trade.

His next words threw her off balance.  “You’re very tempting, you know.” His voice and the fire in his teasing eyes were having a similar seductive effect as the alcohol would have.

Who was she fooling? She’d been off balance the minute he’d gazed upon her.

“Your beauty cannot be disguised by these rags. I see someone has given you fine silk stockings, your lover perhaps. He must be a wealthy man.”

“I have no lover.”  Rheda could tell by the quirk of his brow that he did not believe her. A woman dressed as she was, with hidden silk stockings. No wonder he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She shook her head. “Besides, I had nothing to do with the face God bestowed on me. It is not meant to entice you. I cannot help how I look.”

He nodded. “No more than I can help wanting to glory in it.”

With those husky words, he rose over her, slowly pressing her back into the fresh green grass. She felt every inch of his lean, hard body, and his masculine scent filled her nostrils. Rheda’s body betrayed her, welcoming the feel of him; the aroma of sandalwood and virile man became a heady rush that enhanced all her senses.

His lips hovered by her ear as he ran his hand slowly up the inside of her leg. His fingers found the top of her thigh, and with a small cry, she pushed her hands against his shoulders and squirmed beneath him. She tried to twist away from his touch, but he captured her wrists in his other hand and thrust them on the ground above her head.

“Come now, do not play coy with me. You are old enough to know the games men and women play. I would give you great pleasure. I would satisfy you more than any of your other lovers.”

 She’d had no other lovers. How could she make him believe that?

Before she could respond, his lips found hers in a drugging kiss. The slight stubble around his chin was abrasive on her skin—Rheda decided she liked the feeling. He played with her lower lip, sucking it between his, gently nipping. It made her light-headed. His tongue probed the entrance to her mouth until she surrendered and opened to him. His tongue swept in, and a tremor rocked her. He tasted divine. Like the waves crashing on the rocks, something wild and wanton unlocked and broke free. She embraced the madness his kiss was unleashing within her.

She’d never experienced a kiss like it. With each heaving breath she could feel her breasts pushing against a solid wall of muscle, and to her horror, her nipples hardened. Her gasp formed a tangled knot in her throat. She could not speak. She could only feel the heat of his hand burning her skin where he touched her, igniting bewildering forces in her blood.

Finally he drew back. “What is your name?” he murmured as he lightly tickled the back of her knee.

Rheda’s brain spun. She could not give him her name; things had gone too far. She could barely think with his hand stroking her leg. Her heated skin turned maddeningly sensitive to his touch. It was humiliating to have one’s body react wantonly at the mere touch of a stranger, even if he was the most attractive man she’d ever clapped eyes upon. She shivered and jerked involuntarily, the movement causing his muscled thigh to slip between her legs.

He flashed a smile full of sin and pressed his thigh against the most intimate part of her. Sizzling warmth flooded her lower body, making her burn with mortification. Her heart pounded in a frantic beat as she realized for the first time in her life she was aroused—aroused and infuriated.

“Do not . . . Get your hands off me.”

Ignoring her words, Lord Strathmore’s lips pressed lightly to her neck and he whispered, “Where did you get the barrel?”

There is another excerpt on my website. Be one of the first to win a signed coy of INVITATION TO SCANDAL. Simply tell me in which county in England Deal is situated (I think it’s mentioned above).

Win an ARC, Happy Valentine’s Month!

Friday, February 3rd, 2012
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UPDATE:  Congrats to Bon for winning the ARC!

Hello all!  This is my first Brava post for 2012.  Not because I accidentally missed my January spot (which, let’s face it, was entirely possible), but because some stupid hacker took our site down for a couple weeks in January.  How, I have no clue.  I could no more hack an internet site than beat Dwayne Johnson (a.k.a. The Rock) in an arm wrestling contest.

I have to ask…why don’t these internet gurus use their genius for good rather than…annoyance.  Notice I didn’t say evil.  They’re not evil.  They’re just dumb@$#%s.  (I’m pretty sure I can’t swear on the Brava blog).

Anyway, I digress.   HAPPY NEW YEAR!  And since it’s now February, Happy Valentine’s Month!

I’m gearing up to promote both Tempted and Hunted.  Tempted is an e-novella from the Dark Protector series featuring Max, a tough Russian bodyguard, and Sarah, an ex-teacher who just escaped from a mental institution.  Really, it could happen to any of us.  Please note that you don’t need an e-reader to get Tempted.  You can use “Kindle for PC,” which is a free program from Amazon – you just read on your computer.  I use it all the time.  (I also have a new Kindle Fire I’m loving!)  Tempted will be released on March 27th.

Hunted is book three in the series and features Connlan Kayrs, the ultimate soldier, and Moira Dunne, a tough witch from Ireland.  The two accidentally mated a hundred years ago, and Conn gave Moira time to train as a witch.  Time is up.  Hunted will be released on April 24th.

Both books are available for pre-order now.  Hint.  Hint.

So, I’d like to give away an ARC of Hunted to a commenter here on the Brava blog.  The contest is open internationally and will close late Sunday night.  (Today is Friday here).  Feel free to just say hi, or answer a question.  Could you hack an internet site?  Have you ever been hacked?  Why do you want a Hunted ARC?  Do you think you could beat the Rock in an arm wrestling contest?

A Down Under Happy Festive Season…

Sunday, December 25th, 2011

For those of you who celebrate Christmas, I hope you had a marvelous day yesterday. Did Santa bring you loads of presents, or was it a day like mine, filled with family and food?

It’s summer in New Zealand. So, unlike my characters in INVITATION TO RUIN, my Regency historical, I’ll be having a warm holiday season.  No snow for us. It’s the start of summer. I’ll probably head to the beach along with half the country.

I had Christmas day with my two sisters and their children, and my mum, at my sister, Lisa’s house, in Eastbourne, by the beach. It’s one of the nicest swimming bays in Wellington where I live. The sun was shining, there was not a breath of wind (which is unusual for Wellington, nicknamed the windy city) and it was a pleasant 22C which I think is around 71.6F. We had a lunchtime roast turkey and salads, with pavlova and hokey pokey cheesecake with strawberries and raspberries for desert. Then the kids and I took Lola, my sister’s Burmese Mountain dog (huge), for a walk along the beach. Lola is now 9 months old and is very big, she really takes you for a walk.

Kiwi’s always take their main holidays around December/January. The children have school holidays from about 18th December through to the end of January.  Most families head to the beach. The summer days are spent lazy by the water, holding family bar-b-ques and reading great books!

Today, is Boxing Day a public holiday.  I went for my walk this morning to work off the calories I ate yesterday.  But I plan to sit outside under my sun umbrella this afternoon and read. I’ll read all the fabulous books I haven’t had time to read during the busy year. I currently have about 65 books stored up on my kindle!

Finally, I had to share a picture of our iconic Kiwi Christmas tree, the Pohutukawa, which often features on greeting cards and in poems and songs. It’s become an important symbol for New Zealanders at home and abroad. I hope, wherever you are in the world, you have a special holiday season filled with friends, family and love.

Take care, and happy reading.  May all your dreams come true in 2012!

If you feel like saying hello, tell me how you spent your Christmas day. Was it snowing where you were?

Comments (0)
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I hope my American friends had a wonderful Thanks Giving last week, and you’re not too stuffed full of Turkey!

I must be becoming more American with my foray into the publishing world, as I felt like I should be celebrating Thanks Giving too. So I cooked myself some chicken (couldn’t find turkey – usually arrives in the supermarkets in New Zealand for Christmas), and had my own little Thanks Giving dinner.  I gave thanks for my supportive family, my wonderful friends, my terrific readers, my agent and editor, and my writing buddies.

We had nothing as exciting as Thanks Giving happen this past weekend in New Zealand, except an election. Yip, it was our three yearly election of a new Government – in this case the re-election of our current National Party Government. If you’re interested in learning about New Zealand politics click here – I warn you, with a population of only around four million people, it’s not very exciting.

HOWEVER, my other big news it that INVITATION TO RUIN has received a RT Reviewer’s Choice Award Nomination for Best First Historical 2011.  

See the full list here.

Here was Jill’s original review:

Genre: England, Historical Romance
Sensuality: HHHHH HOT
Setting: 1808 London

Here’s a fast-paced story filled with snappy dialogue, action and a tortured hero that will delight the reader as much as he delights the heroine. A strong heroine, some wonderful secondary characters and a villain who is truly evil help move the story forward. Readers will laugh and cry as they and the protagonists learn that your past does not necessarily dictate your future and that love heals all wounds.
Anthony Craven, the Earl of Wickham, aka The Lord of Wicked, is about to pursue his favorite pastimes, sin and vice. On his way to his assignation he winds up in the wrong room, that of Miss Melissa Goodly, a 21-year-old virgin. When they’re caught, Anthony has no choice but to marry Melissa. Many hope that this is just what Anthony needs to turn him from his current path of self-destruction. Anthony leaves Melissa on their wedding night. Each time they are in the same room Anthony’s attraction for his wife grows, but he has vowed to never father a child in order to end what he believes is the evil in the family bloodline. The only thing Melissa hopes for out of this marriage is a child. She is determined to break through Anthony’s icy reserve. When a dark shadow from Anthony’s past kidnaps Melissa, he might lose her before he has a chance to tell her that he has fallen in love with her.
Reviewed By: Jill Brager

 

I have also received the cover flats for INVITATION TO SCANDAL.

Here’s the cover (I have to show you again as I love it!)
Want a little taste of Invitation to Scandal?

“You’re very tempting, you know.” Rufus’s voice and the fire in his teasing eyes were having a similar seductive effect as the alcohol would have.

Who was she fooling? Rheda had been off balance the minute he’d gazed upon her.

“Your beauty cannot be disguised by these rags. I see someone has given you fine silk stockings, your lover perhaps. He must be a wealthy man.”

“I have no lover.”

Rheda could tell by the quirk of his brow that he did not believe her. A woman dressed as she was, with hidden silk stockings. No wonder he had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

She shook her head. “Besides, I had nothing to do with the face God bestowed on me. It is not meant to entice you. I cannot help how I look.”

He nodded. “No more than I can help wanting to glory in it.”

With those husky words, he rose over her, slowly pressing her back into the fresh green grass. She felt every inch of his lean, hard body, and his masculine scent filled her nostrils. Rheda’s body betrayed her, welcoming the feel of him; the aroma of sandalwood and virile man became a heady rush that enhanced all her senses.

“Come now, do not play coy with me. You are old enough to know the games men and women play.  I would give you great pleasure.  I would satisfy you more than any of your other lovers.”

She’d had no other lovers.

How could she make him believe that?…

You can read more about INVITATION TO SCANDAL on my website. Invitation to Scandal is released in April 2012.

Next month I’ll have a copy to give away, so check my blog after Christmas. I hope you have a good one BTW!

Dani Harper Icon

In my new shapeshifter series, every member of the Macleod family has the ability to become a wolf at will. Insulted by the term werewolf, they call themselves Changelings.

But what makes them different? Why would they be offended to be called werewolves? To answer this question I put together a handy guide with some of the key distinctions between the two.

Turf War - by Patrick McEvoy

APPEARANCE – From the wolfman and the lycan of Hollywood lore to the oft-sighted Beast of Bray Road, Wisconsin and the Michigan Dogman, a werewolf often stands on its hind legs. Its features tend to be distorted, an unhappy cross between human and wolf. Often the tail is short or missing altogether.

Changelings in their wolfen form are identical to natural wolves, standing on all fours. Graceful and swift, the difference is in their size: they’re a lot bigger! And a good look at their eyes often reveals the identity of the person within. While fur color seldom corresponds to their human appearance, their eyes are identical in either form. This is especially noticeable when James Macleod shapeshifts: His wolfen form is snowy white, but his eyes are still Viking-blue.

TEMPERAMENT – Werewolves are not known for their gentle nature. Maddened by their transformation, their bloodlust is insatiable. The Beast of Gevaudan, a French werewolf from the 18th century, killed 113 people and wounded more than 50 in its 3-year reign of terror.

The number one rule in the Changeling world is this: Never harm a human. This doesn’t mean that these wolves are tame, however. Plus, there is the occasional rogue that breaks this all-important law, but his life will be instantly forfeit. The entire Pack will take it upon themselves to stop the rogue  if they can as in the first book of my new paranormal series, Changeling Moon.

TRANSFORMATION – Werewolves have no control over their change. Although the influence of a full moon is a modern-day invention, werewolves are completely subject to the beast within and helpless to stop it from emerging. Plus, the werewolf transformation is often slow and painful. Some werewolves will never be able to return to their human form.

A Changeling’s transformation appears instantaneous to human eyes. The full moon triggers their first change, but they can shapeshift at will after that. They may even choose to change more than once in a single day. Only the first shift is painful, but it is agonizing as the body must learn new pathways.  All subsequent changes are painless.

Changelings are almost always in control of themselves and their inner wolf. Under certain circumstances, however, the wolf within them will rise – to ensure their own survival or that of a mate.

BECOMING A WEREWOLF – Werewolves regard their condition as a curse, one that is usually transmitted by an infectious bite or scratch, or perhaps by a malicious spell. There is no way to stop the transformation once a human has been bitten by a werewolf.

Changelings regard their ability to transform as a gift. They are usually born with it, and in the case of my series, everyone in the Macleod family is a Changeling. The gift can be passed on to a human, but this is seldom done except when the human has married a Changeling and truly wants to join their world. The second cardinal rule in the Changeling world comes into play here: Never turn a human against their will.

MATING – Werewolves are usually too busy chasing down people and eating them to be concerned with dating.

Although Changelings can pair with anyone they choose, shapeshifter or human, their inner wolf recognizes a true mate immediately. Which brings us to the third and best rule of this world: Changelings always mate for life.  Always.


QUESTION FOR READERS:  Do you have a favorite shapeshifter character from a story, series, movie or TV show?

GIVEAWAY:  On Friday, November 11th, I’ll draw a winner at random from the comments section. The prize is a signed copy of Changeling Dream!

Halloween Treats from New Zealand…chocolate time

Sunday, October 23rd, 2011

The winner of the Halloween copy of INVITATION TO RUIN and the big block of Whittaker’s chocolate is Betty Hamilton. Email me at romance at bronwenevans dot com. Many thanks to everyone for stopping by.

Its Halloween Monday 31st October!  Yes – even in New Zealand we celebrate Halloween, although it’s less effective because it’s the start of summer here. We are on daylight saving time and therefore the children have to trick or treat in sunlight!

I remember my first Halloween.  I was five years old and living in America at the time. My father was studying for his PhD at Cornell University. My twin sister and I dressed up in identical outfits – little witches- and mum had made us a bag each, in the shape of a pumpkin.

We went door to door through the married quarters on campus, and I swear I received so much candy I was fully stocked to last me almost the whole year!  I remember having to go back home and empty my bag three times. That’s when I fell in love with America. Nothing as exciting, or as rewarding, in terms of yummy goodies, happened back home in New Zealand. Can you remember your first Halloween?

Most holidays commemorate or celebrate something. But what about Halloween? Until I decided to write this blog I actually never understood what Halloween celebrated. Do you know?

From the internet I managed to learn the word itself, “Halloween,” actually has its origins in the Catholic Church. It comes from the following of All Hallows Eve.  November 1, “All Hollows Day” (or “All Saints Day”), is a Catholic day of observance in honor of saints.

It was believed on that day, the disembodied spirits of all those who had died throughout the preceding year would come back in search of living bodies to possess for the next year. So on the night of October 31, villagers would extinguish the fires in their homes, to make them cold and undesirable. They would then dress up in all manner of ghoulish costumes (similar to today’s Halloween costumes) and noisily parade around the neighborhood, being as destructive as possible in order to frighten away spirits looking for bodies to possess.

In the 21st century it’s simply a day to dress up and have some good old fashion family fun. We all need more of that. I don’t have any children, but I have a nine year old neice and I’m going to spend the night trick or treating with her. I shall even consent to dressing up as a witch! I have the nose for it.

To help get you in the mood for some Halloween fun, I’m giving away a copy of INVITATION TO RUIN along with a block of New Zealand made Whittaker’s Chocolate – the best chocolate in the world. I had the pleasure of meeting the Whittaker’s while on holiday in the South of France one year.

You can pick your favorite flavor. 

All you have to do is leave a comment telling me whose ballroom my hero, Anthony Craven, Lord of Wicked is in, at the beginning of Invitation to Ruin.

I’ll draw a winner on Sunday 30th october, 2011.

Highland Halloween

Thursday, October 6th, 2011
Dani Harper Icon

In my new paranormal series about Changelings, the Macleod family hails from northern Scotland. Halloween is a very different holiday over there, especially when our heroes James, Connor, Culley and their sibs were kids.

Samhain Bonfire

Halloween in the Highlands has its roots in Celtic traditions that are thousands of years old. It was the celebration of Samhain, the end of summer and the light half of the year, and the beginning of the dark half. Feasts were held and huge bonfires lit throughout the countryside. Samhain also marked a mystical time when the veil between worlds was very thin. The souls of the dead, the fairy folk, demons and evil spirits could all interact freely with humans. In many parts of Scotland, an empty chair and a plate of food was put out for the spirits of departed family, who were most likely to come calling during the hour before midnight.

Carved turnip or "tumshie"

Humans, of course, wanted to protect themselves from most otherworldly visitors. To keep the wandering souls and evil spirits away at this time of year, candles and lanterns were used. The bright orange jack o’lantern we know today began as a lowly garden turnip, rutabaga or even a large potato, carved with a frightening face and fill with an ember or two from the fire so it would glow. By the way, turnips are often called neeps in Scotland.

The Scottish tradition of guising – going in disguise – began as people used masks and ragged clothes to fool evil spirits into thinking the guisers were dead souls too! The guisers would often go door to door and were given gifts of food and other little offerings as a way of placating the unseen beings. Later, guisers often had to sing or perform a little dance before they received the goodies.

apple dookin

Outside of warding off evil, there was plenty of celebration at Samhain in Scotland. Games included biting at treacle-covered scones that were dangled on strings – with your hands behind your back and blindfolded as well. (Treacle is a sticky molasses-like syrup) This was followed up by bobbing for apples (called apple dookin in Scotland), another game where you can only use your teeth. Often, it was done by holding a fork between your teeth and catching the stem of the apple with it. And the water in the washtub was usually well-sprinkled with white flour, designed to stick to your treacle-covered face!  Games where the future was divined were very popular. An apple would be peeled in one long strip, and the peeling tossed backward over your shoulder. The shape of the fallen peeling would signify the first letter of a future spouse’s name.

Foretelling the future had its ominous sides too. For instance, after the village bonfire went out, the ashes were often swept into a circle and a large stone placed in the center by each family that lived there. If their stone was moved for any reason, it was said that someone in that family would soon die!

A grave in Scotland

Traditions changed in later centuries, helped along by the Catholic church which sought to replace pagan holidays with its own. Thus the Christian feast of All Saints was assigned to November 1st, a day which honored all saints and especially those that didn’t have their own day devoted to them. The night before became known as All Hallows Eve – but the tradition that souls could wander on that night remained, and the lines between Samhain, Halloween and All Hallows became permanently blurred.

I like to think about my characters, the Macleods, living in northern Scotland a couple hundred years ago and celebrating Samhain in the old traditional ways. Would they utilize their special abilities as Changelings to run as wolves on that night? I can picture them being joined by friends and family, the Pack that they knew at the time. Perhaps they would meet in a special clearing in the great thick Caledonian forest and light their own bonfire.

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Giveaway – one commenter will be drawn at random to receive a Dani Harper book bag filled with swag. Draw will take place October 31, 2011 at high noon Eastern time and announced in the comments section of this blog.

Dani Harper's new shapeshifter series