Jen: I had the wonderful privilege to meet Deb Marlowe at HRR 2016. When she emailed me to ask about doing a review of her newest release, I knew we had to have her guest with us. So, help me welcome Deb Marlowe to Romancing the Book! Deb, will you share a bio with us?
Deb: USA Today Bestselling Author Deb Marlowe loves History, England and Men in Boots. Clearly she was meant to write Regency Historical Romance!
A Golden Heart Winner and a Rita Finalist, Deb writes Historical Romance and Young Adult Fantasy.
She grew up in Pennsylvania with her nose in a book. Luckily, she’d read enough romances to recognize the true modern hero she met at a college Halloween party—even though he wore a tuxedo t-shirt instead of breeches and tall boots. They married, settled in North Carolina and produced two handsome, intelligent and genuinely amusing boys. A proud geek, history buff and story addict, she loves to talk with readers! Find her discussing books, movies, TV, recipes and her infamous Men in Boots on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest. Find out Behind the Book details and interesting historical tidbits at email@example.com
Jen: Will you share an excerpt from A Lady’s Legacy, which released this week?
Deb: Here you go!
She stilled as he tossed back a long drink of wine. Did he truly feel that a wife and child, a welcoming extended family, and a steady, creative enterprise all measured short against the freedom of his wandering ways?
“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled.
“Like what?” She retreated when he stalked toward her, not stopping until he fetched up against the wall between the door and a small table.
He drew closer, radiating heat. Her hands, flat against the wall, curled into fists. She pressed them into her hips to keep from reaching out.
“Like I’ve disappointed you,” he whispered, setting the glass down on the small table.
“Why not?” He smelled of the wine that they’d shared. And rain. And the small, ever-present tang of linseed oil. She breathed it in and let the smell of him roll through her, savored it, just as he’d instructed her.
“Because I don’t like it.” He loomed closer and then leaned in until his lips brushed her ear. “I like it better when you look at me like . . . this.”
He touched her nape. Just the lightest touch, the softest brush of his fingers, but she felt her color rise, driven high by the feel of liquid want spreading from that one point of contact, curling into all of her most private places.
“The door,” she whispered.
“The door can go hang,” he said gruffly.
The moment was heated, charged with surging passion—and still she could not ignore the inadvertent humor in his words. Her eyes widened. She saw the moment it hit him—and they both laughed softly.
But it faded quickly and he watched her intently while his hand slid around to the back of her neck.
She’d never imagined that she could feel like this, hung in suspense while waiting for a man to kiss her. Even when she knew it was not wise. When she’d vowed to keep things between them light and uncomplicated. Yet here she was, entirely willing and waiting impatiently for it to happen.
And then it did. One moment they were sharing breaths, and the next he was kissing her with a hungry passion.
She leaned into it, so glad that they had shared that laughter. It freed her somehow, made it easier to give over, to open her mouth and invite him in. It made the raw desire that welled up inside of her lighter, more frothy.
He felt it, too. He made a sound and pulled away, buried his mouth in the curve of her neck.
“Ahh,” she said on a long sigh.
The door opened.
“Mr. Caradec?” Mrs. Beattie said.
She was right there, on the other side of the door. They had been saved from discovery only by the thin panel of wood.
“Mr. Caradec?” The landlady, sounding puzzled, took a step inside.
He took a step away from Francis, reaching for his glass at the same time. “Right here, Mrs. Beattie.”
The older woman peered around the door. “What are you doing back there?” she asked.
Jen: Do you have a writing routine?
Deb: I do! But it is a constantly evolving one. I started writing when my kids were small and my schedule has adjusted as they grew. I went from naptime writing to writing at gymnastics practice or in the carpool loop, to now, my first couple of months as an empty nester! My youngest has just gone to college and I am learning to write according to my natural rhythm instead of necessity. I’ll let you know once I figure it all out! 🙂
Jen: Describe your writing in 3 words.
Deb: Adventurous. Passionate. Fun.
Jen: Is there a genre you’d like to write? Is there one you’ll probably stay away from? Why?
Deb: I write Regency Historicals and Young Adult Fantasy now. Historical is my first love and and I will always write it, I think. I love the world building and research into Japanese folklore I’m doing with my YA. I want to do a mystery series set in the Regency, in the future.
I think I will probably never write horror. It’s not a genre that I like to read—my imagination is too busy to put that stuff in there!
Jen: How do you come up with characters names?
Deb: My husband says that he is the only man he knows who does not shudder when he walks in and finds me looking at baby name books. 🙂 I use several of those, and also several great websites like www.behindthename.com
Jen: What did you do to celebrate your first book? Do you do anything to celebrate a sale, new contract or release?
Deb: My first book? I did the happy dance all through the house! I got “The Call” from an editor with an English accent—which was especially wonderful for a Regency writer! Then I called my husband, all my writer friends and everyone I know. 🙂
Now—I celebrate by going out to dinner with my family—and after finishing a book—I clean my refrigerator.
Rhys Caradec and Francis “Flightly” Headley get caught in an awkward moment—Have you ever been caught kissing when you should not have been? Share! A random commenter will win a digital copy of Lady, It’s Cold Outside, which is one of the Half Moon House series books where we encounter Francis as she grows.
Deb will pick a winner on Friday, December 1.