Sultry Summer Reads Blog Hop @DenyseBridger

Welcome to the Sultry Summer Reads Blog Hop! All the rules and how the hop will work it listed on the Safari Heat site. Follow the link below.

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First, please read this carefully, so you can increase your chances of winning the wonderful prizes being given away! To be eligible to win the fabulous prizes in this hop THAT REQUIRE MAILING, you must reside in the US or Canada, because of prohibitive shipping costs for prizes. All other prizes are open to everyone.

The Grand Prize Is A Kindle Fire HD 7” – Second Prize Is A 100.00 Gift Card to Amazon or B&N. Plus books to go on the winner’s new Kindle.

Apart from one of my books donated for the winner’s new Kindle, I’ll be giving away a Gift Certificate for ARe All Romance Books. PLUS:  We will be giving away six to seven prizes a day. The hop’s host will be randomly popping into blogs to pick winners, so be sure to visit as many blogs as you can to increase your chances daily! It’s also VERY important that you leave your email when you comment–it’s the only way we can contact you if you win a prize!

There are four ways for you to get extra entries into the grand prize giveaway: Leave a comment, follow my blog, follow me on Facebook, or on Twitter. To keep it simple, you can try this format as a guide:

Name:

Email:

Comment:

Twitter: Followed

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Blog: Followed

Are You a Reader or Author:

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You will gain four entries for doing these things, but please know they are totally OPTIONAL!

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Writing historical fiction that is based on factual events is sometimes difficult. When you choose Victorian London as the setting, and the genre is erotic romance, things can present special challenges. I’ve always loved this era, a holdover I think from my utter love of Sherlock Holmes. A few years back, I wanted to do a series. As things sometimes happen, my timing was not great. The Devane Files only survived two books, a long novella and a short one. I wanted to write more, but there was little interest. Who knows? I love the Inspector, so it’s likely I will revisit him one day soon.

One of the interesting things about writing in this era is to keep the tone correct. Victorian society was very proper and in many ways quite repressed on the surface. The heroine in these two books is a young widow, accused of murdering her abusive husband. Michael Devane is an opium addict and a very unorthodox investigator. So, instead of choosing the blatant for the eroticism, I went with a more subtle sensuality. The readers who have discovered these books have given them consistently excellent reviews, and I have to admit, they are rare for me in the sense that they’re stories I genuinely like myself. So, if you’d like to discover a mystery with sensuous edge, and ties to Jack the Ripper, you will probably love The Devane Files!

I’ve chosen a very simple excerpt for this blog, Bethany and Michael’s first real kiss, catching them both by surprise:

“My carriage is outside,” she said, “Percy will take us to the Café, if you are willing to be seen with me, Inspector,” she grinned as she spoke, a teasing challenge in her tone.

“I think I’ll risk it, Lady Bradshaw,” he replied, matching her tone.

Once they were underway, he looked across the carriage and saw she was still watching him, a wistful smile softening her features. When she saw he was observing her interest, the expression changed, and became one of polite warmth. He was exceedingly disappointed.

“Why did you want to see me?” he asked, finally coming to the reason for their present meeting.

She opened the small bag she carried and offered him the handkerchief he’d given her in the library of her home, after the torrential storm of her tears had passed and left them bonded much more intimately than was wise for either of them. He accepted the freshly washed and pressed handkerchief, tucked it in his pocket, and waited.

“Bethany?” he prodded when she seemed inclined to remain silent. He leaned forward, and saw the ashen features that had been so animated mere minutes prior to his query. He took her hands in his, felt the chill through her lace gloves, and his chest tightened painfully. “What is it, darling?” he coaxed, sincerely anxious when her agitation grew more evident.

“Last night,” she started, choosing her words with obvious difficulty and care. “Do you believe dreams show us things, Michael?” she asked, attention erratic, switching topics so swiftly, he blinked.

“Yes,” he answered her honestly. How could he not believe in dreams as visions of truth when much of his investigative brilliance was based on the abstract images of dreams and drug-induced vision.

If it was possible, the answer upset her further. He left his seat and settled next to her, keeping her hands held tightly between his.

“What have you seen?” he asked, filtering the probable answers through his brain even before she could reply. When she spoke again, she offered him the one possibility that he would never have guessed.

“Your death,” she murmured, voice heavy with dread. “Last night, in my dreams, I saw you die, Michael! You were alone, lying on a dark street...” She shuddered violently, closed her eyes, and tears slid from beneath the veil she’d hidden behind. “I know it is highly inappropriate, but I cannot help it,” she looked at him again, and finished, “I do not think I could bear your death, dearest.”

Devane was speechless for a few seconds, stunned by the revelation of both her nightmare and the depth of her sincere affection for him. Bethany clearly misinterpreted his silence; she pulled her hands from his grasp and stared at the other side of the carriage wall.

“You must think me a complete fool, Inspector,” she murmured bitterly. “Please accept my apology for the embarrassment I have...”

Devane reacted purely on instinct, cutting off the apology that hit him as an offense, not a deference to his feelings. He touched her cheek, turning her to face him.  Before reason could censor his action, he touched his lips with hers, covering her mouth with a tenderness that had been missing from his heart since the early days of his marriage. Back when he and Evelyn had been in love and filled with hope. The kiss had been meant as a brief caress of reassurance, but the tentative touch slowly caught him and held, making him deepen the kiss further, turning it into a sensuous exploration of her mouth. The taste and scent of her filled his awareness and he leaned closer, holding her head, guiding her willing response as she sighed quietly and melted into his embrace.

It was several minutes before he withdrew, and seconds more before he knew what had pulled him out of the erotic languor that had seeped into his very bones. The carriage had stopped moving. He looked at Bethany, and she stared back, her expression a combination of wonder and confusion. He was puzzled by the emotions, but decided not to ask.

“Lady Bradshaw!”

Percival Vaughan’s anxiety laden voice reached them a moment before the carriage door was unceremoniously opened and the footman peered inside. Devane caught his attention instantly and was startled by the burning resentment that sizzled in the other man’s light blue eyes.

“I’m fine, Percy,” she said, sounding slightly breathless. “Really. Thank you for your concern.”

“I told you we was here, ma’am,” he stated quietly. “When you didn’t answer, I thought you’d fainted again.”

She winced at the reminder of the last time she’d ridden in a carriage with Devane, and he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the smile from curving his lips upward. She pretended not to notice his amusement.

“I’m sorry, Percy,” she apologized, quite unnecessarily. “The Inspector and I were discussing Robert’s death, and I truly didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he bowed his head in deference, and held the door open while Devane stepped from the carriage then turned to assist Bethany.

Devane caught the anger in Vaughan’s eyes again the instant his hand touched hers, but he made no outward appearance of having noted the emotion. Bethany stepped daintily onto the cobble-stoned walk, and asked Percy to return for them in approximately an hour. He nodded, slammed the carriage door shut with needless force, then climbed back into the driver’s seat. Devane felt the prickle of ice at the back of his neck as they approached the door to the café, and he glanced back, long enough to see Vaughan glaring at him with open hostility. The vehemence of the resentment struck Devane like a blow, then he entered the building and turned his attention to Bethany as she spoke quietly to a young man, asking for a private room. He clearly knew her and was happy to accommodate the request.

The Devane Files: Book One - OUT OF HELL

Available from: Liquid Silver Books

Read More HERE: http://www.lsbooks.com/out-of-hell-p425.php

The Devane Files: Book Two - AN UNSPOKEN BETRAYAL

Available from: Liquid Silver Books

Read More HERE: http://www.lsbooks.com/an-unspoken-betrayal-p67.php

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