Having Fun With Donna MacMeans

My guest is Historical Romance author, Donna MacMeans. Aside from being a lot of fun in person, she writes some fabulous books which make you laugh and sigh. I'm happy to be welcoming her back to Over Coffee. Isn't her cover gorgeous?

Thanks Sia for having me here today.


I had so much fun writing this last book, I’m hoping readers will enjoy it as well.  In particular, I had great fun with my hero, Michael Rafferty, and his sidekick Phineas Connor, a secondary character who I’m guessing will have his own book one of these days.  Michael Rafferty is the muscle of the two.  He’s an Irishman who works for British Intelligence.  He’s well-acquainted with London’s underbelly.  The bad guys that live in the sewers there are well acquainted with his fists.  His best friend and associate, Phineas Connor, is a stage magician and a master of disguise.  I patterned the relationship on James West and Artemis Gordon from the Wild Wild West - the TV show, not the movie.

When I first clicked on the men’s relationship, I thought I’d watch some reruns of that show for a little character study.  Somehow I don’t remember the series being quite as campy as it is on my dvds (grin).  Memories work that way I guess.  I remember my brother and I watching the show after school.  James West was like an American James Bond for the Victorian period.  Remember their private railroad car with all the cool gadgets?  I understand that the show is now considered one of the first examples of Steampunk.

            
I also learned that the show was cancelled at the height of its popularity because SOMEONE decided it was too violent.  (Remember when James West punched the woman with the knife in the animated segments?)  Robert Conrad was known for doing his own stunts so I imagine the insurance costs to produce the show didn’t exactly aid its longevity.  Anyway, I don’t have to worry about either of these things in my REDEEMING THE ROGUE.  I’m not sure you can say I have a lot of violence in the book, but there are an awful lot of dead bodies.  This book definitely has a high body count.  Fortunately, the insurance cost for fictional characters is eminently affordable (grin). 

Here’s an excerpt so you can get a taste for the relationship of these two:

The vaguely annoying threat of a knife pressed to the small of his back gave Michael Rafferty pause.

“Your valuables or your life,” a guttural voice hissed.  “I reckon a couple of swanks like you two have nice fat pockets.”

Michael glanced at his associate.  Receiving his slight nod, Rafferty turned abruptly, rapping the miscreant’s hand sharply with his walking stick.  The knife fell and slid along the street.  Deprived of his weapon, the thief resorted to his fists but soon discovered he was out-classed there as well.  Rafferty had the man’s face pressed to the side of a well-appointed Mayfair townhouse with his arm twisted in a painful hold.

“Well done.”  His companion applauded.  “You didn't need my assistance at all.”

Rafferty winced, feeling the sting of a cut on his lip.  The bloody bugger had landed one lucky punch.  Blast that it had been the fist with a ring.


“Some of that famous sleight of hand would have been appreciated,” Rafferty said, shaking his hair clear from his eyes.  “Or is that only for the stage?”

His friend, the renowned Phineas Connor master of illusion, laughed.  “My performance on stage is limited to cards and doves.  You’re the one, Rafferty, known for his fists.”  He glanced at Rafferty’s captive.  “At least among the Irishmen that should know better.”

The man squirmed. “Rafferty?  Is that you?”  He swore like a seaman, which —based on his filthy rags — he could have been.  “I swear I didn’t know.”

Rafferty tugged the crook’s arm higher and heard fabric rip.  “Check his pockets.”

While Phineas rummaged through the man’s clothing, Rafferty glanced around the corner of the building to a line of hansoms in front of a stylish townhouse.  Such an elite gathering might offer temptation for the kind of criminal he held captive.  “This is a dapper neighborhood for a wharf rat like you.”

“I was minding me own business until you two came along,” the thief muttered.

Silver glinted in Phineas’s hand, the contents of the thief’s pocket.  Rafferty gave the man a shake.  “A half-crown?  Who else did you rob tonight?”
 

            “I didn't rob nobody.  That was for a message.  Half now and half when I brings the reply.”

              “What sort of reply did you expect to a knife in the back?” Rafferty tugged the arm, earning a squeal from the thief.

            “The message weren’t for you.  I was to hand-deliver it to a lady, I was.  I thought you two was easy pickings while I waited for her to show.”

            Phineas retrieved an envelope from the crook’s jacket.  No name or address was noted on the front but a blob of red wax sealed the back.  He bounced the letter off his fingertips.  “Nice quality stationery.  Too nice for the likes of a gutter rat.”

            “Who’s the lady?”  Rafferty asked.  When an answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming, he tugged the twisted arm higher.  “Tell me before your arm leaves its socket.”


            “I don’t know her name,” the cutpurse bellowed, his eyes squeezed shut.  “All I know is she’s dressed in green and she’s going to that party of swells.”  He slid his face on the limestone to point the way with his chin.


            “Barnell said…” His eyes widened and his mouth clamped shut. 

You might notice that Rafferty is a little rough around the edges.  As he’s about to be assigned a mission to masquerade as a British diplomat assigned to Washington DC, he’s going to need some sprucing up.  That’s where my heroine comes in.  Lady Arianne Chambers is the  sister to a duke who agrees to transform the rogue into something more convincing for his mission.  It’s sort of a reverse Pygmalion.  All to solve a mystery and catch a killer.

Publishers Weekly neatly summed up the story this way:  Irish rebellion, smuggled guns, and the assassination of American president James Garfield form a lively backdrop for this sweet, sexy, and smartly told Victorian romance.

Romantic Times gave REDEEMING THE ROGUE a 4.5 Top Pick with the comment: [Redeeming the Rogue] is pure joy; funny, sexy and exciting.”

I hope you will give it a try.  I’m running a contest with a Kindle as a prize.  You can find the details at www.DonnaMacMeans.com.

Plus I’ll give a copy of REDEEMING THE ROGUE to someone leaving a comment that tells me their favorite character(s) from an old TV show.  (Old of course being relative - grin).


Buy: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, IndieBound, Powells 

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Before beginning her writing career in earnest, Donna MacMeans kept books of a different nature. A certified public accountant, she recently abandoned the exciting world of debits and credits to return to her passion: writing witty and sensuous romances. Her debut novel, The Education of Mrs. Brimley, won the 2006 Golden Heart for Best Long Historical. Her second book, The Trouble with Moonlight, won the Romantic Times Reviewers Choice award for historical love and laughter. Originally from Towson, Maryland, she now resides in central Ohio with my husband, two adult children and her kitty keyboard companion, Shadow.

Visit her website at https://www.donnamacmeans.com

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Chasing The Dream

Never be afraid to dream. Dreams are the doorway to Reality.~Sylvia Danzo

My guest is romance author Beth Andrews. She is a RITA winner and won for A-Not-So-Perfect Past, which I enjoyed reading. I can also see why it won.


What I admire the most about Beth is her persistence. It's hard, as a writer, to face those rejection slips. Even though we try, there is a twinge that says we've been rejected and it stings.


I like how Beth puts it:  "... rejections are a part of this business...I vowed to work harder, write better and to never give up." I like that philosophy.


I attended my first RWA National Conference in 2002 in Denver where I got to sit in the reserved seats at the RITA/Golden Heart ceremony. I wasn’t finalist—I didn’t even know what either award was about—but the published author who’d generously sponsored the conference scholarship I’d won was up for a RITA. Since she couldn’t attend she asked me to accept on her behalf should her name be called.

I’m what you might call…unassuming. Quiet. Watchful. Not someone who’s comfortable accepting an award in front of two thousand people. But while I ended up not leaving my seat that night, by the end of the ceremony, after watching all the talented, gracious women accept their awards, my viewpoint changed and I was certain of one thing:

I wanted to be up on that stage accepting my own award.

So I did what anyone would do in my situation. I wrote a book (my second) and entered it in the next year’s Golden Heart contest. It didn’t final. Neither did either of my two entries a year later. Or the year after that. Or the year after…well, you get the picture. I wrote more. I revised. I found some fabulous critique partners. Most importantly, I found my voice. And I entered the Golden Heart once again.

That year I was lucky enough to be a double finalist in the GH. I had a blast at the National conference in Atlanta, meeting my fellow finalists for the first time, proudly wearing my GH ribbons and buttons. There was a champagne reception for both RITA and GH finalists, rehearsals and finally, awards night.

I honestly didn’t expect to win and therefore didn’t experience more than a twinge of disappointment when my name wasn’t called. After all, it was an honor just to final and I was determined not to be eligible for the GH again. I was ready to sell.

Yeah, I hear you all laughing out there.

I knew it didn’t matter that I was ready to sell, what mattered was that an editor was ready to buy me (or in this case, my story). But I thought my story was good. And while the editor I was working with agreed, it wasn’t good enough to buy.

Not one to let a bit of bad news get me down, I forged ahead, entered the 2007 GH, and hoped that lightning could strike the same place twice. It did.

With that third final came the same excitement as the year before, along with healthy doses of relief, gratitude and, to be honest, a sense of validation that perhaps I was going in the right direction after all. I truly thought that this story, a story I’d worked so hard on, a story I’d received an eight page revision letter for, a story that had been sent up to the senior editor with a recommendation to buy, was THE ONE.

And then, a week before the conference, I—or rather, my story—was rejected.

It hurt. Oh, did it hurt. But, since rejections are a part of this business, I didn’t let it get me down (the hot fudge sundae I had for supper that night helped, too). Instead, I focused on making that conference the best ever. I was inspired by stories of authors who wrote for five, ten or even fifteen (yes, I said FIFTEEN) years before selling. Awed by their persistence, determined to achieve my own success and unable to imagine not writing, I vowed to work harder, write better and to never give up.

But by Saturday afternoon, the combination of too little down time and way too little sleep caught up with me. As I waited alone for a friend, the doubts hit. What if I was fooling myself? What if I never sold? How many times would I be able to push on after the door’s been slammed in my face again?

It was pitiful. I was pitiful. And I hate being pitiful.

That night at the awards ceremony, I was shocked and humbled when the presenter announced my title and my name.

I learned I can speak in front of 2,000 people and not make a total fool of myself. A partial fool, maybe, but not a total fool. Back at my seat, staring down at my shiny new Golden Heart necklace, I knew I would defeat those pesky doubts that had invaded my brain earlier in the day. Not because being a GH finalist or winner guaranteed I’d get published, but because I’d realized that no matter how hard this career might be, no matter how disappointing, I don’t want to do anything else.

A month later, I sold that book to Harlequin Superromance and this year I was lucky enough to get back on that stage to accept the RITA for A-Not-So-Perfect Past.

My GH win gave me a boost, an ego stroke if you will, but mostly it taught me to appreciate the steps along the way. To celebrate my successes and mourn my failures (for short amounts of time) and to never stop writing, believing or dreaming.

• What inspires you to keep going when things get tough? How do you like to celebrate your successes or the good times in life?

A MARINE FOR CHRISTMAS Book One in The Diamond Dust Trilogy



It’s a wonderful life…?

Growing up in her perfect sister’s shadow wasn’t easy. Especially because JC Montgomery had been in love with Liz’s boyfriend for as long as she could remember. Brady Sheppard, a a guy who thought of her as only the kid sister. But that all changed when Liz married somebody else and Brady ended up in bed with JC! It was like a dream come true.

Except now JC’s pregnant. And Brady’s a wounded marine, so it’s going to be difficult for him to get down on one knee and tell her she’s his reason for living…But he will. Because she still believes in Santa Claus. Excerpt

Buy: Amazon Barnes and Noble Borders eHarlequin

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Beth Andrews loves Christmas, wine and chocolate - though not necessarily in that order. During the writing of A MARINE FOR CHRISTMAS she listened to hours of Christmas carols, visited a local winery (several times) and made many, many homemade truffles. All for research purposes, of course.

Beth is a Romance Writers of America RITA ® Award Winner and a Golden Heart Winner. She lives in Northwestern Pennsylvania with her husband and three teenagers who claim they are her children, but are a far cry from the sweet, quiet babies she gave birth lo those many years ago.

Her plans for the summer include finally reading The Harry Potter series, learning how to bend metal into pretty shapes for jewelry and writing the second book in her new Diamond Dust trilogy for Harlequin Superromance.

Beth loves to hear from her readers. Please email her at beth@bethandrews.net.