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Happy Sunday, everyone! I am soooo excited to be launching my new book, The Shy Duchess, because it’s a return to the Welbourne Manor family. After working on The Diamonds of Welbourne Manor anthology with Diane and our friend Deb Marlowe (whose own Welbourne book, How to Marry a Rake, is out in May!), I felt like these characters had become my friends. I wanted to know what happened to them, if they were happy, if they were having more adventures. With The Shy Duchess, I got to do that! I had so much fun catching up with them all, and getting to know Lady Emily Carroll, who was a very special heroine to me after my own childhood battles with deep shyness…

“McCabe knows her time period, the mores and expectations of her characters…her stories have made her a fan favorite and she does not disappoint” –RT BookReviews

Our hero is Nicholas, the eldest (legitimate!) son of the rambunctious family, and now the Duke of Manning. The heavy responsibilities of being duke and taking care of his family have been weighing on Nicholas, making him take life much more seriously. He’s also burdened with a tragic secret in his past–a secret, youthful marriage that ended after less than a year when his beloved wife died in childbirth. He mourned her alone, not even telling his siblings what happened, and he’s determined never to hurt a woman like that again. Never to give her the “cursed” title of Duchess of Manning.

But of course he can’t quit thinking about our heroine, Lady Emily Carroll, can’t quit wanting to make the too-serious young lady smile. Even though she seems all wrong for him…

Emily was born with the gift of great beauty–and the curse of paralyzing shyness. She freezes whenever she tries to talk to a man, stumbles when she tries to dance, and ends up hiding in the corner at every ball. The only time she feels comfortable is when she is doing her secret charity work with “fallen women” trying to make new lives for themselves! Her silence has earned her the nickname The Ice Princess–and no offers of marriage. She knows her penurious parents are counting on her to marry well, but all she can do is long for Nicholas from afar.

Until a masked ball at Vauxhall reveals an explosive passion, which leads to a scandal and a forced betrothal, which leads to a Welbourne honeymoon–and Nicholas begins to thaw his ice princess’s heart as well as heal his own.

If they can get past a blackmailer, Nicholas’s protective family, and Emily’s mother’s terrifying pre-marital advice…

“Come sit by me for a moment, Emily dearest. I want to speak with you about something very important.”

Emily’s stomach clenched. Whenever her mother had that tone in her voice, Emily knew she wouldn’t like what she heard. “Oh, Mama, I am very tired, and tomorrow is such a busy day. Can it not wait?”

“No, it cannot,” her mother said sternly. “This is very important. Now, come sit by me on the bed and listen to me carefully.”

Emily went with her in silence, letting her mother hold onto her hand. Her fingers were very tight, pressing the heavy emerald engagement ring into Emily’s skin. “Now, my dear, a wife has many duties, especially a wife who is a duchess,” her mother said. “I have taught you to run a house properly, to dress fashionably and to remember to be charitable and kind. But there is one last, most important duty I must tell you about, as my mother did for me the night before my wedding.”

Emily very much feared she knew what was coming next. “Oh, no, Mama.”

“Yes.” Her mother’s lips pressed together grimly. “You will have your duty in the bedchamber. Now, Emily, I warn you it will not be pleasant. It will hurt, and be rather messy. You must lie back and do as your husband tells you, and it will soon be over.”

“Mama!” Emily groaned. “I don’t really need to know…”

“Let me finish. There are ways to make it easier. I used to close my eyes and plan a party.”

Emily stared at mother numbly. “A party?”

“Yes. I would choose the china and the silver, and design flower arrangements and guest lists. Then I would devise a menu and decide on my gown. By the time I knew what to serve for dessert, it was all over and I scarcely felt a thing! As a duchess, you could plan very elaborate parties indeed.”

Emily closed her eyes, trying not to shudder. She knew the rudiments of anatomy, of course; she often visited galleries full of classical nude statues. And she knew the basics of the marriage act, what went where and so forth. But… “Mama, what exactly happens that I must fear?”

“Oh, my dear, you needn’t fear! It is our natural duty and we must bear it. The duke will show you what to do, and I am sure he will not demand anything–extra of you.”

“Extra?” Emily choked out.

“Yes. You must not touch things, or move about too much. That just makes it last longer. You are his wife, not a hired mistress. All will be well, Emily dearest, and in the end you will have beautiful babies, as I did. That will make everything worthwhile.”

Emily was utterly stunned. Pain, and–and mess? It sounded utterly appalling. She could hardly reconcile it to the pleasure she felt when Nicholas kissed her. “Is that all, Mama?” It was surely quite enough…

Please visit my website for more excerpts, plus a Behind the Book glimpse at the history of Vauxhall Gardens! You can also see more about the book on eharlequin. I will be giving away an autographed copy of The Shy Duchess (so you can see for yourself what actually does happen on the wedding night!) to one commenter on today’s post.

And who else is excited to watch the Oscars tonight????

Maybe I’m still living under a rock, so apologies if this has been discussed here before. I just found out about this new version of JANE EYRE, starring Michael Fassbender and Mia Wasikowska and due out in theatres on March 11.

But I won’t get my hopes up too much. I’ve had a rough relationship with JANE EYRE on film. I have liked all the actresses who’ve played Jane but too often the casting of Mr. Rochester or some other factor don’t quite work for me.

The 1943 version (Orson Welles, Joan Fontaine) version captured some of the feeling of the book but tampered too much with the plot and dialogue for my taste.

I have not seen the 1970 (George C. Scott, Susannah York) version. How did that happen? Should I look for a copy?

The 1983 (Timothy Dalton, Zelah Clarke) miniseries was pretty good, I thought, but he came off a bit too handsome for Rochester. I find this cover amusing, relegating the title character to the background!

As for the 1996 (William Hurt, Charlotte Gainsbourg) version, all I can say is I like Hurt much better in other roles.

I had high hopes for the 1997 movie with Ciaran Hinds and Samantha Morton, but I was disappointed. I like both the actors but the film felt rushed to fit a target length.

Finally, I loved the 2006 miniseries with Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson. It is easily my favorite adaptation.

Hopefully this new version will be at least as good. Check out the trailer. What do you think? Which versions will it have to contend for to be your Favorite Jane Eyre Adaptation?

Elena

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So finally I was able to open up my current document and do some writing. It felt good, and I want to do more of it.

But then there’s this whole job thing, so we’ll see about that.

Anyway, meanwhile, a friend recommended a book that sounded really great, so I got a copy and started reading it on my lovely subway commute (I should just start calling it the LSC, since I am so appreciative of it, since I get to read). It is great. It is phenomenally up my alley.

But it’s secondary food.

Let me explain. Back in college, I had a friend who was the result of a German woman marrying a Japanese man. A made in World War II relationship. My friend, let’s call him Mr. Axis Power, told me how in the beginning of their marriage, his mom would cook all sorts of things–German things, of course–for her husband. She’d ask him how it was, and he would say, “It’s good, for secondary food.”

This baffled her. She kept trying, doubtless serving all sorts of delicious schnitzels, and roesti, and big meat dishes. Still–the only praise she received was “good for secondary food.”

Eventually, the two figured out the problem; for him, being Japanese, rice was primary; all other foods were secondary.

So back to me. For me, romance is primary; all other genres are secondary. I am loving this book, but it’s not compelling me to read as it would if it were an equally fantastic romance. It’s good–for secondary food.

And so my next book after I finish this one (The Devil You Know by Mike Carey, btw) will be a palate cleansing primary food, a romance carefully chosen from the stack.

And hey, any day where I can equate books and food is a good one, right?

Megan

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First some news–my next book about Jane and the Damned is coming out in October and now has a title, Jane Austen: Blood Persuasion. I’ve also seen the cover but I can’t show it to you yet. Cool! This illustration is my favorite still from the book trailer of Jane and the Damned.

Following last week’s post about the pros and cons of different historical periods it seems only natural (to me anyway) today to delve into subgenres. Lucky us, we have so much choice in the sort of books available and the merging of once-discrete subgenres. It can be confusing! So here’s a field map to some scenarios and how they’d play out.

Hero wears

  • Quietly elegant clothes made by London’s top tailor. You know, the exclusive one only the Big Guys know about.
  • Pants so tight you really don’t notice anything else and a shirt that unbuttons all the way down
  • Subtly scented oil
  • Quietly elegant clothes made by London’s top tailor but cut to accommodate the wings or any other little (or big) extra(s) and/or martial arts weapons

Heroine wears

  • Demure sprigged cotton, bonnet, gloves, the whole shebang
  • Red satin with a dozen tiny buttons down the back etc.
  • Subtly scented oil
  • The usual sort of Regency stuff but with many hidden pockets for stakes, knives, martial arts weapons

They go for a walk in the woods.

  • He picks flowers which she and her chaperone squeal over with delight
  • Not much walking going on here
  • Even less here
  • A possible declaration of love is thwarted by an attack by the creatures of darkness

He retires to the library to

  • Sigh gently over a half-composed poem and figure out how best to serve the needy and poor on the estate
  • Above, pants optional. Some of those tenants are very needy.
  • Enter the orgy room through the false bookcase (note: they’re all false. No time for reading in this world!)
  • Plan strategy to eliminate creatures of darkness

Hero and heroine ride together in a carriage

  • When the chaperone falls asleep, they allow their hands to touch for one precious, poignant moment
  • Athletic goings-on strain the framework of the carriage
  • Above, but chaperone, coachman, and postilions join in
  • Fierce fight as creatures of darkness or whatever swarm over the vehicle

When they arrive in London, the heroine agonizes over whether she’ll receive

  • Vouchers for Almacks
  • Invitations to soirees full of hot, young, single Dukes
  • Invitations to orgies
  • Invitation to summit to fight off creatures of darkness, which are now becoming tedious to me and will catch a mysterious virus and slink back to whence they came

The heroine becomes pregnant after

  • The marriage night, thank you very much
  • About page 35 but she doesn’t realize it until everyone else has, including the exasperated reader
  • Pregnant? I don’t think so
  • Hero assures her the creatures of darkness are vanquished. But wait…

Your suggestions?

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OK, let’s see if I can pull off this post. If not, I blame it on whatever little beastie went after Amanda’s computer. My intention is to bring this around to the Regency era. (waving of hands.)

Country Living

I live in the country, and the other day, I tweeted the picture you see here. (Blogger isn’t letting me add images right now so I’m off to fetch the embed code from my flickr account . . . BRB) snowonSonomaMountains_20110219_1

OK! I took that picture from the deck of my house this past weekend. What I was thinking at the time was that there was SNOW on the mountains. SNOW! Around here, we call them the Sonoma Mountains, even though everyone knows they’re really just hills. The snow level has to be down to 1500-2000 feet for there to be snow on the Sonoma Mountains.

I tweeted the picture thinking everyone would be all, OMG, that’s SNOW on the Sonoma Mountains and that one or two people who live where there is actual weather would tell me to grow a pair. (Hey, I stood on the deck in my jammies and slippers and took that picture! It was kind of cold. Sort of.) I just looked up the elevation of my town. It’s 12-400 feet. That morning, the house was about 30 minutes and 1500 feet of elevation from SNOW and 30 minutes and let’s say 12-400 feet of elevation from the Pacific Ocean.

Instead of the comments I expected, many people on twitter said they wanted to move in with me. Because, as I had actually forgotten in my excitement over SNOW!! on the Sonoma Mountains, our house has a spectacular view. In fact, most of that side of the house is sliding glass doors that look onto variations of that view. Mostly without snow, I should add.

Which Got Me To Thinking

If you live in a city, it’s easy to get divorced from nature. In the US, most of us aren’t getting our food from a garden or the farm, or the neighbor’s farm. We get eggs from the store, not chickens. Our meat comes from the meat department, not from the butchered pig we raised.

When we eat a delicious melon, we don’t save the seeds so we can plant them and eat the same melon again next year.

When we go outside at night, we can’t see the stars and for many of us, we can barely see the moon.

We have declining variety in our food because we stopped saving seeds to plant.

A few stories

We have chickens at our house, and my son has grown up on fresh eggs from chickens that roam around during the day eating what comes naturally to chickens. Eggs from chickens like this taste different. They look different — the yolks are an intense golden-yellow-orange. They behave differently in recipes.

Then a coyote ate the chickens — during the day! and we had to buy store bought eggs while we waited for the weather to warm up enough for us to buy new chicks, and then for the chicks to turn into hens and then for the eggs to get past the tiny pullet stage . . .

The first time my son saw scrambled eggs from store bought eggs, he wanted to know what was wrong with them. Because they were anemic looking. They were pale, pale, yellow instead of a strong yellow. They didn’t taste all that great either. Compared to real eggs.

Fresh vegetables from a garden are kind of the same experience.

Not Lambchops!

When I was a kid, my folks had one of our lambs slaughtered and my mom fed us lamb chops shortly thereafter. We all sat there, in silence, staring at our plates. No one moved to so much as pick up a fork. We were all thinking how we’d watched that lamb gamboling in the field. My mother sighed, took away the lamb chops and fed us Cheerios for dinner.

She could do that because my father was a physician and she had been to the grocery store to buy food. We didn’t need those home grown lamb chops for survival. It’s astonishing when you think about it.

The Regency!

And all that got me to thinking that if you don’t have electricity, you know what dark is. You know there are degrees of outside dark at night and how incredibly bright a full moon is. You can see the stars at night.

Even if you, in the Regency past, do not yourself farm, you are aware of the seasons of farming and what that means for the food that can be easily put on your plate at a given season. Your mode of transportation is your own two feet or powered by an animal who must be fed, watered and cared for.

In the developed world of the 21st century we’ve gotten very far from nature, and every now and then, I get reminded of that.

Since I write stories set in the past, I think it’s a good idea for me to occasionally take a few moments to think of all the ways I am divorced from nature and all the lore we no longer know– because we have no reason to care exactly when the full moon is, for example — and that people in the Regency did know.

Not that I’d give up my civil rights, vaccinations or my iPhone. But it’s interesting to think about.

What do you think we miss most from that past? What modern invention could you least do without? Let’s take medicine off the table on that last one because everyone chiming in with “Antibiotics!” and “Emergency Room Staff” would get dull pretty quickly.

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