Q&A With the Author:
Q. What is the thing you struggle with the most while writing? And how do you defeat it?
A. Confidence is a major stumbling block. I always worry that my books aren't good enough and that my latest manuscript--whatever it is--is the most ridiculous, worthless drivel that has ever had the misfortune of being put on a page. I usually overcome it by talking to a critique partner. Reading fan mail sure helps, too.
Q. What kind of music do you listen to while you write?
A. I like either classical music or new age--nothing with lyrics or a drum beat. There's a Pandora station called Regency Classical that I like to listen to while I write those first few chapters. It help me create that believable Regency feel.
Connect with the Author here:
"Determined to help her father with his political career, Jocelyn sets aside dreams of love. When she meets the handsome and mysterious Grant Amesbury, her dreams reawaken. But his secrets put her family in peril. Grant goes undercover to capture conspirators avowed to murder the prime minister, but his only suspect is the father of a courageous lady who is growing increasingly hard to ignore. He can’t allow Jocelyn to distract him from the case, nor will he taint her with his war-darkened soul. She seems to see past the barriers surrounding his heart, which makes her all the more dangerous to his vow of remaining forever alone. Jocelyn will do anything to clear her father’s name, even if that means working with Grant. Time is running out. The future of England hangs in the balance...and so does their love."
She glanced back at the doorway. He had arrived. With hair as dark as a starless night, a tall figure clad almost entirely in black strode toward them. Something shifted inside her and she took a step back from his presence of power. As he neared, his air of deadliness swept ahead of him like a giant clearing the path. Piercing gray eyes set in his fearsomely handsome face caught and held her gaze as he drew nearer.
She chided herself. Grant Amesbury had protected her. Why everything about him seemed so deadly tonight, she couldn’t explain, but she surely had nothing to fear from him. Firmly wearing the role of hostess, she moved to welcome him. He was dressed in beautifully tailored clothing, as fashionable as the clothes he’d worn the night he’d brought home Jonathan. His new haircut and style gave him Town polish.
“Welcome, Mr. Amesbury.” She sank into a curtsy.
He inclined his head. “You look lovely.” The words fell awkwardly from his lips as if he’d rehearsed them. She doubted he often paid compliments to anyone.
“How kind of you to say.”
He paused and focused on her. Something changed in his expression. He studied her in a way that sent heat from her face clear down to her toes. Oh heavens, if these were the kind of looks he was capable of giving, he clearly was dangerous to ladies, but not in the way she’d thought.
Her attention zeroed in on his lips, and hers tingled in response. Powerless under his stare, she wrenched her gaze from his and nervously touched her brooch as if to assure herself it remained in place, anything to restore her good sense, which had quite literally failed her for a moment.
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