Saturday, May 25, 2013

Saturday Sojourn with Evonne Wareham



One of the perks of being an author is setting books in places you have enjoyed visiting. I like to locate my stories in atmospheric locations, mainly in Europe. I write romantic suspense, and I think that it can add to the tension to have scary events happening in beautiful places. If I’m throwing all manner of nasty stuff at my hero and heroine, at least the sun is shining! And I can stay warm, if only inside my own head. I hate the cold.

I lived for a long while in London, so that city features often in my books. My home is now on the coast of Wales and if I can, I like to include at least one Welsh scene in anything I write. In my debut novel, Never Coming Home, this is a short but crucial encounter that takes place in Cardiff, which is the Welsh capital. In my second book, Out of Sight Out of Mind, the latter half of the book is located on the Pembrokeshire coast. Sadly, in real life we cannot rely on sun filled summer days, so I had to invoke author privilege to adjust the weather accordingly – but I also included one day of typical Welsh rain. My hero had just revealed a sinister and damaging secret to my heroine and really upset her. After that I enjoyed sending him out in a torrential downpour and soaking him to the skin. 

For this post I’ve chosen two photographs of Florence, in Italy. It’s a beautiful, historic city, full of memorable art and architecture, and one of my favourite places. When I was writing Never Coming Home, my debut novel, I needed a city where Kaz, my heroine, would search for her ex-husband, who has information that she needs. Florence was my number one choice.
My first picture is of the Ponte Vecchio – the bridge over the river Arno which is lined with shops, many of them selling jewelry – and yes, I have been known to shop there, while visiting the city. In Never Coming Home Kaz and Devlin – a security expert with a dark past, who Kaz has hired to help her track down her ex  - walk across the bridge at night. 
The second picture is a panorama of the city taken from the Piazzale Michelangelo. Again this is one of the locations from the book. Kaz admires the view, unaware that behind her in the crowds on the square Devlin is having a tense encounter with a former colleague. The pictures were taken on a trip to Italy a few years ago, and the weather was unexpectedly stormy, as you can see. But, of course, in the book I have ensured that the sun shone. 

Evonne Wareham is published by award winning independent UK publisher, Choc Lit. Her debut novel, Never Coming Home, won the UK Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writers’ prize for 2012 and was a nominee for a Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews magazine. Her second book, Out of Sight Out of Mind, features a scientist who reads minds and a down-and-out who can’t remember his own name.
www.evonnewareham.com


Sunday, May 12, 2013

Sunday Snippet With Tea Cooper


Born into privileged society, Lilibeth Dungarven finds herself married, widowed, and much to her distress, back under her father’s rule, all before her twenty-first birthday. But this feisty and independent young woman has a dream: she is determined to breed the perfect racehorse and restore the family’s flagging fortunes. An accomplished rider, she takes matters into her own hands and sets out to restore the Dungarven horse farm to its former glory.
When the devastatingly attractive Captain Tom and his mismatched band of bushrangers stumble across a mob of the best horses they’ve ever seen, and the daughter of the famed Dungarven horse farm, they know their fortunes have changed. Their catch is worth a king’s ransom. Surely it can’t be too difficult to contain this beautiful young woman with violet eyes and skin-tight riding breeches for seven days?


Lily could see the pale ribbon of road below cutting through the trees and the bright blue expanse of sky wide-open in front of her.
“Nero. You can do it,” she whispered into his sleek, shiny neck and he snorted in response. Her thigh muscles burned as she tightened her grasp on his flanks. His muscles tensed in response, attuned to her body. She gritted her teeth and willed her shaking hands to steady. “We can do this, Nero. We have to.” Her heart hammered so hard in her chest she thought it might leap right over the culvert and down the hill ahead of them.

With barely a moment’s hesitation she dug her heels into the stallion’s flanks and urged him down the hill. The last trees cleared and the sudden heat of the sun stung her face, then she crouched low over Nero’s neck. The clatter of his hooves on the sandstone surface told her they had reached the road. The blood raced through her veins, pulsing in her ears, a violent and excruciating pounding raged through her body.

“Stop.” Tom’s command echoed around her as the blocks of the convict hewn, sandstone walls reared ahead of her. Surely it wasn’t such a huge jump for a horse like Nero?

She leaned forward in the saddle and her cheek brushed the dampness of his neck. Time slowed. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut she sucked in a great gulp of air and clenched her teeth tightly together. Nero lifted into the air. His muscles bunched beneath her and he flew over the chiseled blocks and down the slope. Her knees gripped the saddle and she dragged the reins almost vertical as they plunged down. Tufts of wiry grass and small rocks littered the route. She flinched as Nero’s hooves crashed across them. Gasping in a quick breath, she prayed for the terrain to level off.

Her lungs contracted like bellows and what little air remained, whistled out through her pursed lips. Nero tensed and she shuddered as he stumbled and then regained his balance. Her heart leapt to her throat and her wrists twisted as she wrenched on the reins to slow him. He quivered to a halt. Silver spots danced in front of her eyes and she gulped in a breath to feed her starving lungs. Nero’s muscled body trembled and quaked beneath her and white froth flecked his muzzle.

“We did it, darling Nero. We did it.” The salty tang of his body filled her nostrils as she leaned over his neck murmuring endearments. She swayed with exertion and forced her rubbery muscles to respond as she squinted into the sunlight. Figures on horseback towered above her, stalled on the road. She had an overwhelming urge to wave her hand and shriek in triumph.

But she resisted; this was her opportunity and she had no time to waste. She cut away to the right praying her memory of the maps was correct as she searched for the track leading her to Laguna.

“Lil-eee. Lil-eee.” Tom’s call bounced off the sandstone walls. Shading her eyes with her hand she stared back toward the culvert wall. It was empty.

“Lil-eee. Lil-eee.” The sorrowful echo reached her, resounding somewhere deep in her gut. Her sweat-soaked curls clung to her face as she shook her head, raging at her ridiculous foolishness. After such an exhilarating and successful leap for freedom why did she suddenly feel so melancholy? Her heels bruised Nero’s flanks and she urged him away in a fast canter.


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 Téa writes historical and contemporary romance featuring strong-minded women and irresistible Australian men.  Her heroes and heroines have to fight long and hard for what they believe in before they reach their happy ever after. Many of her books are set in her own back yard and take their inspiration either from the fascinating local characters she knows and loves or those haunting the local museum.

She has written three contemporary romance novels - Tree Change, The Protea Boys and Passionfruit & Poetry and two historical romances - Lily's Leap and Matilda's Freedom. In June 2013 her first historical novella will be released and she is currently working on her third historical romance novel set on a schooner somewhere between Sydney and Van Diemen's Land. 


To keep up with all of Tea's news, visit her website: www.teacooperauthor.com where you will find links to her blog and social media pages.