Several years ago, I wrote several traditional Regency Romances for Kensington. The last of them was a play-against-type vampire romance with strong Regency overtones. I called it Ravensclaw. ‘Too Gothic’, said the powers that be, ‘and furthermore the word ‘vampire’ has to be in the title.’ They titled it Waltz With A Vampire’and gave it a hugely misleading cartoonish cover.
Well, the rights have to that book have finally reverted, so I finally get to use the title of my choice. And give it a more appropriate cover. In the interim, I wrote the second book in the trilogy (which also has a brand new cover), and am currently writing the third.
RAVENSCLAW. The Edinburgh Vampires, Book 1
Emily Dinwiddie, current overseer of the Dinwiddie Society for the Exploration of Matters Abstruse and Supersensible, knows full well that fantastical beings exist. Werewolves. Shapeshifters. Vampires. To her regret, she has not yet been privileged to meet one of these creatures in, as it were, the flesh. However, that is about to change. Will Count Revay-Czobar be a blood-sucking fiend so foul she cannot bear to look at him, let alone ask his help? Will he see her as a tasty tidbit, and force her to defend herself?
Valentin Lupescu, Count Revay-Czobar, is not the sort of supersensible being read about in books. No vampir melancholia for Ravensclaw. No regret for past lives, lost loves. His situation suits him well enough, save for his tendency to get bored. When Emily arrives on his doorstep,d raped about with every vampire-repelling charm devised by mortal man, he sees in this freckled, bespectacled spinster the source of more potential amusement than he’s enjoyed in a score of decades.
She wants him, of course. It is the nature of his kind.
He wants her also. Which is not at all the say these matters generally play out.
A quest. A curse. Passion and perplexities. Mystery, mayhem and madness in the dark streets of Regency Edinburgh’s Old Town.
Ravensclaw reached out one graceful finger and pushed Emily’s glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. The Count was toying with her as if he were a cat and she a witless rodent. Emily elevated her umbrella and poked him in the chest. “I would prefer that you keen your hands — and your thoughts — to yourself, my lord.”
“Would you, indeed?” he asked softly. On the hearth, the wolf-dog stirred.
Emily took a firmer grip on her umbrella. She had no desire to skewer her host, but neither was she eager to make the intimate acquaintance of a vampire’s fangs. Rather, she didn’t think she was. At least, not yet., She did have a certain curiosity–
“What you don’t know can’t hurt you,” murmured the Count. And then, without the slightest hint of fangs, he smiled. It was a roguish captivating smile that said ‘you’re the most delicious thing I’ve seen in a long time and I’m going to gobble you up slowly and savor every nibble’ as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.
Emily blinked. Ravensclaw must surely be the most irresistibly, wickedly beautiful being ever put on God’s green earth.
In whatever century that had been.
And she was staring at him like a smitten schoolgirl.
Oh, bloody hell.
VAMPIRE, BESPELLED: The Edinburgh Vampires, Book 2
Sarah Kincaid is a widow with a knack for charms and herbs. Her marriage left her disillusioned. The last thing she needs is for an annoying green-eyed man to interfere with her peace of mind.
Andrei Torok is a warrior with a demon mistress and an unrelenting headache. He is weary of his existence. The last thing he needs is to have long-buried emotions stirred by a quick-tempered, sharp-tongued lass.
Moreover, Andrei is vampir.
And Sarah is not.
Sarah believes in vampires no more than she believes in the lasting nature of sentimental attachments formed by the perfidious opposite sex.
Andrei is smitten with her, nonetheless.
Add mysterious artifacts and inconvenient corpses. Curses and spells. Vengeful preternatural beings, a deadly vendetta, and a pesky ghost…
A romantic misadventure in Regency Edinburgh.
Sarah closed one hand into a fist and cuffed him on the ear. “Release me at once, you lout!” The intruder promptly set her on her feet. Perversely, she then wished that he had not.
Gleaming Hessian boots, tight buckskin breeches, a coat of green superfine that hugged his magnificent shoulders like a second skin…
He was lean, muscular, and altogether overwhelming, with chestnut hair long enough to brush his collar, eyes hidden behind round dark spectacles, harsh sculpted features made even more savagely compelling by the scar that slashed one cheek from temple to jaw before continuing across his throat.
Sarah wondered for a startled second if brooding about love spells had brought this splendid specimen into the shop. He was not handsome, certainly, but she’d had her fill of handsome. A battle-scarred warrior, however, who might take up his sword on her behalf–
What was she thinking? Sarah was done with men. Selfish,self-centered, self-indulgent beasts.
He removed his spectacles, revealing eyes the color of green ice. Lass. That is harsh.
Perdition. Now she was hearing things.
MOON MADNESS: The Edinburgh Vampires, Book 3.
Coming in 2015