So let’s get this party started. Please tell us about yourself. What got you interested in being an author?
Hello there, my name is Grace and first off let me say a big thank you to Dawn for inviting me!
I am a veterinarian working near London and when I’m not vetting or acting as taxi driver to two teenage sons, I write historical romance.
My writing career stems from a ‘eureka’ moment at a school reunion, of all places. Friends I hadn’t seen for twenty years were surprised I was a vet (?!) as they’d assumed I’d become a novelist…and then it came back to me…. English homework read out to a hushed class, novellas in dog eared notebooks, hastily scribbled poems …and suddenly I needed to rediscover my creative side.
That school reunion was five years ago and I have written a novel a year since then, with ‘A Dead Man’s Debt’ being my first published full length work. In truth, writing is now an addiction. I get cranky if I’m kept away from the keyboard, and my husband jokes I can see in the dark – since my best ideas come whilst drifting off to sleep and they just have to be scribbled down!
Can you tell me a bit about your most recent/upcoming release?
I’m an avid reader of historical romance and my aim is to write the page turning historicals with engrossing characters, addictive plot and nail biting tension that I so love to read. Only you can judge the result, but here’s what author Suzette Stone (A Fateful Wind) wrote in a recent review.
“Grace Elliot’s debut novel, A Dead Man’s Debt, should come with a warning. Once you start reading this brilliant historical romance novel, it is extremely difficult to put the book down. The book contains all the right ingredients – blackmail, family secrets, passion – written with intelligence and attention to detail.”
For any readers who may not have read any of your books, can you just give us a little sneak peak into world (i.e. the type of genre you write, type of stories you like to write....etc)?
Set in Regency England ‘A Dead Man’s Debt’ is a story of blackmail, duty and unexpected love.
It is the story of two opposites. The dissolute Lord Ranulf Charing is being blackmailed over his late brother’s debts and is hamstrung by ducal duty, whilst our heroine, Celeste Armitage risks disgrace by refusing an arranged marriage. As the story progresses the darkly distant Ranulf comes to love Celeste for her honesty and passion, but of course true love never runs smoothly as his ruthless enemy, Lady Ursula Black, decides Celeste’s life is the price of revenge
How much of yourself, if any, do you put into your characters?
Oh that’s a good question! I suspect there are facets of my personality that worm their way into many of the characters; after all part of the fun of writing is indulging a hidden alter ego! On reflection it would be nice to think Celeste has some of me in her; she’s a modern woman, independent and unwilling to settle to second best. She is also stubborn (no comments please!), determined and fiercely loyal to those she loves.
As for the darker characters... I would get arrested if I admit to having anything in common with Lady Ursula Black…so best I keep quiet.
Is there a genre you haven’t done that you would like to explore in the future?
These days a lot of author’s write across the genres, but I can honestly say I would be totally lost and this has never occurred to me. I am firmly addicted to historicals; its what I love!
For me it’s the distance of the past that suspends disbelief and let’s the reader sink straight into characters and plot. The modern world is so full of bad news and stress that I’d rather leave the 21st century behind, and revel in the delights of the regency where men were so potent that a woman’s reputation could be ruined by spending five minutes alone with one!
If you could throw a party with any five people (living or dead) who would you pick and why?
Oh there would be a riot!
I would invite Henry VIII, Casanova, the novelist H G Wells, Emma Hart (who became Lady Hamilton and Admiral Nelson’s mistress) and Marie Curie.
I’d love to find out if King Henry was a sociopath, and it would be a blast watching Emma Hart flirt with him. Casanova sounds a fascinating man (apart from his obvious reputation); he invented the lottery and was one of life’s survivors – and I’m sure he would be the life and soul of the party. As for H G Wells, I’d love to pick his brains about how he came up with ideas such as the Invisible Man and the Time Machine. He was a man who wrote about science way ahead of his time and must have a fascinating mind. As for Marie Curie, the amazing scientist who discovered the penetrative properties of radiation and invented radiographs – I just want to warn her to wear lead protective clothing…and stop her getting the cancer that killed her.
Is there one series/author you feel is a must read for readers to explore (can be e book authors or print NY house authors)?
Did I mention that I’m passionate about historical romance? I think it has so much to offer and my favorites are Gaelen Foley, Nicola Cornick, Mary Balogh, Stephanie Laurens and Emma Holly, but in terms of consistency the prize goes to Lisa Kleypas. In my opinion her heroes are second to none; from the tormented Christopher (Love in the Afternoon) to Derek Craven (Dreaming of You] she never disappoints and I have yet to be disappointed by one of her books.
Do you listen to music when writing? Do you feel like some stories write themselves a soundtrack with specific music? If so, what book and what kind of music influenced it?
Yes and no is the answer to this question! Mostly I like to write in silence, except for Widget purring beside me of course! This is because I immerse myself in the characters and settings and need to hear them talking. However occasionally there is a little too much background noise from family (my 18 year old is into techno-rock, say no more!) and then I plug myself into an MP3 player. Strangely I find the soundtrack to Tim Burton’s ‘Sweeney Todd’ strangely soothing, and often wonder if that something I should be worrying about!
What is coming up for you in 2011?
Writing is an addiction and I’m constantly plotting, observing or writing. At the moment ‘A Dead Man’s Debt’ is a stand alone Regency romance but I have plans for Celeste’s sisters, Estella and Serena. However they will have to wait because another Regency was just bursting out of my brain and is in its final draft.
This book, ‘Eulogy’s Secret’ is the first of three books about very different brothers. All being well the book should be out this autumn (watch my blog http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com and website www.graceelliot.webs.com in the summer for details)
Are any of your characters just like you or have personality quirks/traits of you or someone you know?
Don’t tell anyone but I use the character traits of people I dislike to flesh out the baddies in my fiction! As the old saying goes ‘Don’t get mad, get even,’ and it’s a perk of being a writer to have your revenge on the page. Sweeter still is having nasty things happen to them in the end… voodoo with a pen!
Where can readers find you on the web?
My passion for history and obsession with cats melds together at my blog:
http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com and my website is at: www.graceelliot.webs.com
Follow me on Twitter – my tag is Grace_Elliot and let’s meet up at Goodreads and Facebook (Grace Elliot)
“A Dead Man’s Debt” is available from most eBooks stores including Smashwords and Books on Board or via Amazon at
or the Solstice publishing at:
Price $2.99
A Sneak Peek into A Dead Man's Debt
Celeste Armitage has a plan…and that plan doesn’t include marriage.
After deliberately humiliating a suitor, Celeste’s despairing parents exile her to the country. But once there she discovers a sketch book of daring nude studies and is shaken to find the artist is her hostess’s eldest son, Lord Ranulf Charing. This darkly cynical lord is exactly the sort of dissipated rogue she despises most…if only her blood didn’t heat at the thought of him…
Nothing is as it seems. Lord Ranulf’s life is a façade. Only he can save the Charing’s from disgrace as a blackmailer seeks to ruin his late brother’s reputation. But just as Ranulf dares to open his heart to Celeste, the fury of his nemesis is unleashed… facing him with the stark choice between true love and family duty. However when Celeste guesses the truth behind his rejection, Ranulf underestimates her resolve to clear his name and in so doing places the woman he loves in mortal danger….
PG Excerpt:
So be it. Ranulf gritted his teeth as he grasped the leading leg and pushed. It was like fighting against a brick wall, the calf barely moving. A lamb was difficult enough, how much more so a calf? Just as he was wondering if one man was strong enough, a shower of pebbles rattled down the bank. Concentrating on the calf, he barked.
“Don‟t just stand there. Get down here!”
“I beg your pardon!” A woman‟s voice answered.
With a flash of annoyance Ranulf glanced upward.
A wide eyed young woman in a straw bonnet peered down. “I say, is everything all right?”
“Does it look all right?” Muttering under his breath, all he needed was some sensitive Miss fainting on him. “Go! Fetch help from the house.”
He saw her hesitate, biting her top lip. “But you need help now.”
A contraction clamped around his arm as the cow's tail switched across his face, stinging his eyes like a cat-o-nine-tails.
In a flurry of muslin and lace the Miss slid down the bank, landing with a thud in the ditch.
“Ouch.” She rubbed her ankle. Ranulf glared back, dark eyes flashing.
“You should have gone to the house.” Damn it all, she could make herself useful then. “Hold the tail aside.”
Pulling a face she limped over. Ranulf's eye lingered for she merited a second glance. Of middle height with a tidy waist and curves where God intended them, she appeared quick witted and bright eyed. Without further ado, she stripped off her gloves throwing them onto a bramble bush. Long, sensitive fingers grasped the muddy tail. Practical, Ranulf thought, silently impressed.
“Why didn't you go for help?”
“There wasn't time.” Her bonnet slipped backwards, revealing a quirky face with a pointed chin, her lips finely drawn with an arched cupid's bow. The sort of face an artist could lose himself in, all shades of the sea to be found in deep emerald eyes framed by a tangle of chestnut hair.
Ranulf tightened his grasp and pushed. Sweat beading his brow. The calf retreated an inch.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was gentle and calm, if somewhat deep for a woman. Ranulf guessed it would be husky in bed, whispering over a pillow after a night of passion. Her eyes were on him - deep green eyes, lively and entrancing. Suddenly he remembered that he was undressed to the waist, her curious gaze on his skin as he was gripped by the idea of those lily white hands gliding over his naked chest, her almond shaped nails digging into his skin. He shook away the thought, trying to remember her question.
All innocence and interest she watched, blushing faintly in a charming way and yet, he realized, no wilting flower. He shook his head. The woman had asked a question, damn it. He would answer.
“The calf is breech.” He grunted, “I need to push her back into the womb to turn her…” He wanted to shock this stranger, to test how bold she truly was. She stared back, biting her top lip, exaggerating her snub nose.
“Ah!” Her gaze met his.
“Think of the calf as a carriage in a narrow driveway. To turn it around you push it back into the stable yard…”
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” He growled.
Throwing him an angry look, she anchored the tail with a log and scrambled round to the beast's head. After a moment‟s thought, she placed her pelisse under the cow's head stroking the broad nose and crooning words of comfort.
“She's relaxing.” Ranulf's arm was numb from the contractions. He fell forward, as the first leg finally slid back into the womb. "That helps." His hair had come free from the ribbon, falling thickly about his shoulders. He glanced at the Miss. She was leaning forward, her bosom straining against a tight bodice, a satisfying cleavage between her breasts. He swallowed hard. She was odd looking, he decided, not exactly beautiful but eye catching none the less. Her face showed character, determination…and her complexion too healthy to be fashionable, rosy cheeked and peppered with freckles which with a hint of sunlight burst into a profusion.
The Miss was glaring at him now, her skin glowing bright pink. Had he been staring? His heart raced as he returned to the calving.
“Does it look all right?” Muttering under his breath, all he needed was some sensitive Miss fainting on him. “Go! Fetch help from the house.”
He saw her hesitate, biting her top lip. “But you need help now.”
A contraction clamped around his arm as the cow's tail switched across his face, stinging his eyes like a cat-o-nine-tails.
In a flurry of muslin and lace the Miss slid down the bank, landing with a thud in the ditch.
“Ouch.” She rubbed her ankle. Ranulf glared back, dark eyes flashing.
“You should have gone to the house.” Damn it all, she could make herself useful then. “Hold the tail aside.”
Pulling a face she limped over. Ranulf's eye lingered for she merited a second glance. Of middle height with a tidy waist and curves where God intended them, she appeared quick witted and bright eyed. Without further ado, she stripped off her gloves throwing them onto a bramble bush. Long, sensitive fingers grasped the muddy tail. Practical, Ranulf thought, silently impressed.
“Why didn't you go for help?”
“There wasn't time.” Her bonnet slipped backwards, revealing a quirky face with a pointed chin, her lips finely drawn with an arched cupid's bow. The sort of face an artist could lose himself in, all shades of the sea to be found in deep emerald eyes framed by a tangle of chestnut hair.
Ranulf tightened his grasp and pushed. Sweat beading his brow. The calf retreated an inch.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was gentle and calm, if somewhat deep for a woman. Ranulf guessed it would be husky in bed, whispering over a pillow after a night of passion. Her eyes were on him - deep green eyes, lively and entrancing. Suddenly he remembered that he was undressed to the waist, her curious gaze on his skin as he was gripped by the idea of those lily white hands gliding over his naked chest, her almond shaped nails digging into his skin. He shook away the thought, trying to remember her question.
All innocence and interest she watched, blushing faintly in a charming way and yet, he realized, no wilting flower. He shook his head. The woman had asked a question, damn it. He would answer.
“The calf is breech.” He grunted, “I need to push her back into the womb to turn her…” He wanted to shock this stranger, to test how bold she truly was. She stared back, biting her top lip, exaggerating her snub nose.
“Ah!” Her gaze met his.
“Think of the calf as a carriage in a narrow driveway. To turn it around you push it back into the stable yard…”
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” He growled.
Throwing him an angry look, she anchored the tail with a log and scrambled round to the beast's head. After a moment‟s thought, she placed her pelisse under the cow's head stroking the broad nose and crooning words of comfort.
“She's relaxing.” Ranulf's arm was numb from the contractions. He fell forward, as the first leg finally slid back into the womb. "That helps." His hair had come free from the ribbon, falling thickly about his shoulders. He glanced at the Miss. She was leaning forward, her bosom straining against a tight bodice, a satisfying cleavage between her breasts. He swallowed hard. She was odd looking, he decided, not exactly beautiful but eye catching none the less. Her face showed character, determination…and her complexion too healthy to be fashionable, rosy cheeked and peppered with freckles which with a hint of sunlight burst into a profusion.
The Miss was glaring at him now, her skin glowing bright pink. Had he been staring? His heart raced as he returned to the calving.
1 comment:
Thank you for hosting me today, Dawn, it's been such fun!
Grace x
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