Showing posts with label romantic comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romantic comedy. Show all posts

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Authorsday: Wendy Soliman


Wendy Soliman was brought up on the Isle of Wight in southern England but now divides her time between Andorra and west Florida. She lives with her husband Andre and a rescued dog of indeterminate pedigree. When not writing she enjoys reading other people’s work, walking for miles with her dog, drinking good wine and generally making the most out of life.







A Class Apart

Lady Octavia Radleigh is devastated when Radleigh Manor, her ancestral home, falls victim to her grandfather’s crippling debts. Jake Bentley, boy made good from the East End of London plans to buy Radleigh to prove to the world that he’s made it but reckons without Octavia, who’s determined to turn it into an upmarket hotel to attract American tourists. Now all she has to do is persuade Jake to finance her crazy scheme…

A Class Apart by Wendy Soliman from SirenBookStrand or Amazon.com September 2011



How long have you been writing?

I wrote my first novel when I was fifteen, so I guess I’ve always been drawn to words. I certainly live in a fantasy world most of the time! I wrote a second book when I was in my twenties and, no, I’m not telling you how long ago that was. It was just a long time, okay! Anyway, I took it up seriously about eight years ago when the circumstances in my life changed and I had the time for it. Incidentally, my third published book was based around the plot for the one I wrote in my twenties. Moral of the story: never throw anything away.

Do you plot or write by the seat of your pants?

Both. When I’m writing historicals or even contemporary romance I tend to start with a premise – a what if – and let the characters run with it. It’s amazing what they get up to and where they take me. For my series of marine crime novels that I’m writing for Carina Press I do need to do an outline and a lot more research but I never stick to it. My tendency to let the characters sort out their own messes is too deeply entrenched, I guess.

Tell me one thing about yourself which few other people know.

Well, I’m told I come across as confident but, let me tell you, my self-esteem is just about zero. Getting published was one of the few achievements that made me feel good about myself. It continues to do so every time another book gets accepted.



Describe your book

My first five books were all Regencies. I guess coming from the Isle of Wight, with all those historical buildings littering the landscape, a sense of history seeped into me like osmosis. As I gained in confidence I decided to try something different and a ‘modern’ historical seemed like the logical step. England is still full of aristocrats but not all of them are as wealthy as they once were. What if a titled lady discovered that her ancestral home had to be sold and that a self-made upstart from the East End of London wanted to buy it to prove to the world that he’d made it? That’s the basis of A Class Apart.

What drew you to the subject of your novel, A Class Apart?

The class society in England fascinates me, especially the way the aristocracy it being forced by circumstances and society to adapt to the modern world. Even the Queen pays income tax nowadays – shock, horror! Unlike the Regency period that I first wrote about, modern Britain doesn’t turn its nose up at business men, especially successful ones, but it’s a concept  that my heroine Octavia in A Class Apart finds hard to accept. Game on!

Did you encounter any obstacles in researching it?

Not really. I learned a hard lesson when my first book was published. Part of it was set in Alexandria, Egypt two hundred years ago. I diligently researched the period to death and proudly put a lot of my findings into the novel, just to prove I knew what I was talking about. My editor put a red pen through the lot of it, telling me to cut most if not all. This is a novel, Wendy, not a history lesson. You’ll bore your readers. It was a bitter pill to swallow but I took the advice on board, mainly because I could see it was right, and now only do enough research for authenticity.

Where do you write?

We’re fortunate enough to divide our time between Andorra, a small principality high up in the Pyrenees mountains between France and Spain and west Florida. In Andorra, where I am at the moment, I have a tiny desk in my own room where I beaver away. In Florida we’re in the process of creating a study with fitted floor to ceiling bookshelves for my tomes. My dream come true!

What’s the name of the first novel you wrote? Did you try to publish it?

Can’t remember the names of the books I wrote when I was a kid, (which is probably a good thing!). The first one I wrote when I took it up seriously eight years back was Lady Hartley’s Inheritance – yes, the one that had the setting in Alexandria! – and it was published by Robert Hale in England, as were the next four.

If you could ask readers one question what would it be?

What attracts you to a particular book? Do you indeed judge it by its cover? Is your interest piqued through blogs, review sites, promotion of any sort? Do you always favour a particular genre or take pot luck?

What next in your writing career?

I’m now a split personality. I write historical and contemporary romance as Wendy Soliman and marine crime mysteries from Carina Press as W. Soliman. I have six titles coming out in the latter half of this year so check both my websites for more information.

Thanks for having me here. It’s been a blast.

Monday, January 18, 2010

ExcerpTuesday - Judi Fennell



Today Judi Fennell shares an excerpt from her latest, Catch of a Lifetime.


When I received the document it read Logan in the Kitchen. Now I love a man who knows his way around a kitchen so I was intrigued and read it before I pasted it here.


I'm glad I did.




She had the best breasts he’d seen in a long time.
Logan jerked his head. What was wrong with him? Ogling Angel’s breasts? He should be shot.

And as for pinning her up against the cabinets and mauling her, he ought to be drawn and quartered.

He wiped his face with the towel she’d mercifully tossed him and gave half a thought to gouging out his eyes. He’d never leered at a woman before, much less attacked one. She was a guest in his home. Michael’s babysitter. Could he be a bigger cad?
He slumped against the counter and reached for the glass. Christ. Something had hit him like a tidal wave. There hadn’t been a subtle thing about the staring he’d done. At her breasts, no less. The poor woman was looking at him as if he’d suggested he tie her to the bedposts. He couldn’t blame her.

In another life, that idea would have a lot to commend it.

He shook his head. Something weird had come over him. Exhaustion maybe. The shock of finding Michael on his doorstep finally catching up with him? A naked goddess on his boat who sang like an angel and looked like a temptress? Who, at this very moment, might be wearing red lingerie beneath her dress? Hell, it was anybody’s guess.

He took a swig of the water. Or rather, he tried to.

Nothing left.

That’d be because he was wearing it—and he didn’t blame her in the least.
She started to fiddle with a few strands of hair. “Logan…”

“Angel, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t excuse my actions, but I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

She let go of her hair and gripped the chair in front of her, her tongue sneaking out to lick her bottom lip.
Actually, he did know what had come over him.
But that was no reason to act on it.
“I don’t blame you if you want to look for another place to stay, but I want to apologize and assure you”—and himself—“that it won’t happen again.”
He hoped.

Her mouth fell open. “Wha…what?”

He laughed inwardly. She was going to make him say it. Well, served him right.

What moron took advantage of a woman the way he had? You might think it’d been four years instead of four weeks since Joanne.

“That kiss. I was way out of line. I have no idea why I did it—”
She got this look on her face, and Logan realized he was digging a deeper hole for himself. Of course no woman would want to hear that the man who’d just been mauling her—quite pleasantly, there was no denying the truth in that—didn’t know why he’d done it. She was gorgeous; he knew why he was attracted to her. He just didn’t know why he’d gone all caveman on her.

“I mean, yes, you’re beautiful, but that’s no excuse for the way I behaved. I’m very sorry and you have my word that it won’t happen again. Please don’t leave. Michael really cares about you and he’s been through a lot. I’d rather not disappoint him if it can be avoided.”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
www.JudiFennell.com