Yay! I mean, SQUEE!! Or wait – arrrh!
Yay! I’m actually officially here in my new blog digs. Welcome! I think next week I’ll have some sort of contest to celebrate, but in the meantime, I wanted to just thank everyone for bearing with me and share some exciting news.
SQUEE!!! Beverley Kendall, another Fanlit friend, has just signed a two-book deal with Kensington! Her debut historical, tentatively titled A Lady’s Compromise, will be coming to a bookstore near you in Fall 2009. Congratulations, Bev!
Lastly: Arrrh, mateys! It’s International Talk Like A Pirate Day! I’m celebrating by taking the darelings to ride Pirates of the Caribbean for the one millionth time.
But, since piracy does play a role in my second book, Surrender of a Siren (releasing late August 2009!), I thought I’d leave you a little excerpt, below the fold.
Sophia’s hand plunked down on the table. “But privateers … aren’t they nearly the same as pirates?”
“No, miss. There’s a world of difference between the life of a privateer and a pirate.”
Gabriel shook his head. “About the same, there.”
“Not necessarily. That would depend on the particular privateer and the particular pirate.”
“Then how is it different?”
“Why, privateering’s legal, of course. Sanctioned by the Crown. Can’t be hanged for a privateer.”
“’Course, the war’s over now.” Gabriel sprinkled the dish with pepper before removing the pot from the stove. “No more privateering to be had. So we’ve got to turn respectable, Gray says. It was either that, or turn pirate.” Gabriel winked at her. “And I’m rather attached to my neck.”
Sophia sipped her tea, amazed. She was the lone female passenger—the lone passenger, really—aboard a ship crewed entirely by men who might as well be pirates, except that they couldn’t be hanged. And Mr. Grayson, with his arrogant swagger and mercantile lust, was their erstwhile, unhangable pirate king.
She drained the rest of her tea in one long draught, capped with an audible swallow. “Thank you for the refreshment,” she said, rising to her feet. Blood rushed from her head, leaving her dizzy. The steam was suddenly too thick to breathe. “I… I believe I’ll go take some fresh air.”
As she hurried on deck, her mind was awhirl. All that time that Mr. Grayson had been touching her, teasing her… she’d been consorting with a pirate. If he had the slightest inkling that she carried hundreds of pounds beneath her stays, he’d surely stop at nothing to get it. And yet, she could not bid caution to overtake the gothic thrill. For heaven’s sake, a pirate.
She could be in danger, she admonished herself.
She could be plundered.
The possibility really ought to have frightened her more than it did.