Welcome to What to Read Wednesday 🙂 Please help me welcome Kristen McLean to the blog. Kristen is here to share a little tidbit about how she came up with the setting for her release To Win A Scoundrel’s Heart. I think you’ll enjoy the behind the scenes information as much as i did.
Afterward, don’t forget to drool over her awesome cover, check out her blurb and excerpt, and definitely enter her giveaway!
Take it away, Kristen …
How I came up with the setting for To Win a Scoundrel’s Heart was quite simple. It all started in Paris. Paris is such a lovely city. Enchanting, really. What it isn’t, is a place one skips when touring Europe. Thankfully I was successful in convincing my husband of this fact before we made all the travel arrangements for our humble version of a Grand Tour.
Two or three days after arriving, my husband and I made our way up the Eiffel Tower along with every other couple in Paris. It was crowded and cold. And it was raining. Of course, it was raining. A giant rain cloud had rolled in sometime between us shuffling into the elevator and arriving at the top. It was just our luck. Thankfully it wasn’t nearly as cold as London had been, but by the time the rain had passed we were icicles. Still, the view of the city was marvelous after a good rain. While I stood there looking out over a city that has been here for nearly 2000 years, I was overcome with the history, beauty, and energy of the city. I knew then and there Nick’s story had to take place in Paris. He’s romantic, debonair, slightly wicked, and he belonged here. He was also going to be drenched with rain.
I might have come up with the entire story on the spot, but my own scoundrel was pulling me into his arms and kissing me senseless. The book would just have to wait until after we left Paris. You understand.
husband’s death is ruled a suicide, Lady Dumonte suspects foul play. However,
finding the truth seems impossible after every investigator in Paris turns up
empty-handed. Now she is forced to seek help from Lord Pembridge, a feckless
constant reminder of why she must hide her heart, this carefree scoundrel
threatens to break past her defenses. He could uncover the truth regarding her
husband’s death, but is learning the truth worth risking her heart?
good looks, and a sunny disposition. None would guess the dark secret
blackening his past or the grudge controlling his future. It was the reason he
could never have a family of his own, a fate he had accepted until he was
forced to play detective for the one woman who could tempt him.
“You, m’dear girl,” he murmured, “are old enough to know better than to tempt a scoundrel.”
“I know what I am doing,” she spouted back indignantly. “I am not a child.”
“No,” he agreed easily. “You are certainly not a child.”
“Then I would expect you not to treat me like one.” Her eyes flashed, giving him a teasing glimpse of passion.
Lady Dumonte possessed passion?
“Of course not.” He frowned in mock seriousness. “How should I treat you? As a lady or a mistress?”
“As a woman,” she ground out. “I am a woman!” Her lips pursed together as she glared up at him.
He smiled broadly; he couldn’t help himself.
“Ah, yes,” he agreed, looking her over as though he had only just noticed. “I believe you are.”
She took in a deep breath, pushing her breasts against the tight fabric of her bodice.
His cock jumped to attention.
“I was wrong about not liking you. I hate you!”
“And yet,” he mused with a knit brow, “you throw yourself at me like all the others. You are either in denial of your overwhelming attraction to me or a glutton for punishment. For my own complacency, I choose the former.”
Céleste shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowed and seething with anger.
“Regardless,” he continued frankly at his own peril, “you had better run along, or you may find your offer accepted, and we both know you never expected that. Your bluff has been called, Lady Dumonte. Go on home like a good girl.”
“I never bluff.”
“Never say never, m’dear,” he murmured with a purposefully wicked smile.
her heart for historical romance. After reading enough of them to fill a rather
impressive library, she decided to write her own. Now she has the pleasure of
writing at home, tucked away in a forest with her husband, two children and her
cat. Her husband is loving, and impressively patient, her two beautiful
children strive to embarrass and exhaust her, and her cat hates everyone, but
tolerates—well, she tolerates whoever will feed her.