Book Spotlight with Kelli Wilkins: Redemption from a Dark Past

 

Love Gothic Romances Blended with Mystery?

Don’t miss Redemption from a Dark Past

By Kelli A. Wilkins

www.KelliWilkins.com

 

Hi romance lovers,

Today I’m sharing a look at my Gothic historical romance, Redemption from a Dark Past. This full-length novel is set in the kingdom of Hungary in 1723 and blends a sensual romance with mystery and suspense.

The heroine, Katarina, is feisty, clever, and anything but superstitious. She dismisses tales of evil spirits and ghosts, and doesn’t have time for old wives’ tales. She’s ambitious and wants to leave her pathetic existence on a goat farm for better things.

When she learns that she’s about to be forced into marriage to a much older man, she jumps at the chance to be Lord Adrik’s companion—despite all the terrifying stories she has been told. Katarina’s boldness and intelligence make her the perfect person to free Sebestyen from his dark past.

Here’s the summary, a mild excerpt, and links:

Redemption from a Dark Past

Lord Sebestyen Adrik has an unsavory reputation as a madman, murderer… and worse. Lonely and searching for love, he seeks the companionship of local young women, hoping one of them will ease his torment and bring him the happiness he longs for. Katarina is his last chance—but will she fear him like all the others? Or is she the one who can lift his curse?

Desperate to avoid a forced marriage, Katarina agrees to become Lord Adrik’s latest companion, despite the rumors she has heard about him. She discovers the “Dark Lord’s” secret past and realizes he’s not the monster everyone thinks he is.

As their love blossoms, she renews his passion for life—yet they cannot escape the ghosts of the past.

When a meeting of the nobility goes horribly wrong, Sebestyen’s world unravels, and his enemies plot to destroy him. As all seems lost, a mysterious stranger arrives at the castle. Sebestyen must decide if he is a friend or a foe…and if he can find redemption in his love for Katarina, or lose her and everything else that he holds dear.

The Excerpt:

Katarina stood in the parlor doorway, clutching her skirts. The large room was lit with three candles, and firelight cast long shadows on the walls. One story about His Lordship seemed to be true; he did live in the dark. She heard a low growling noise coming from the corner. What was that? Did Lord Adrik have a vicious dog?

She stepped into the parlor and spotted a figure slumped in the throne-sized chair near the fire. A white ruffled sleeve hung over the armrest. A moment later, she realized the noise was coming from Lord Adrik. He was fast asleep and snoring.

Had she kept him waiting too long? She had eaten her fill of meat and potatoes and even tried the greens and biscuits. His Lordship hadn’t been interested in talking to her before, so why he had summoned her here?

She touched his arm. “Lord Adrik?”

He jerked awake. “What is it?”

She reeled back. “I finished eating and—”

“Your name again?”

“Katarina.” Had he forgotten about her already?

“Yes, Katarina.” He blinked up at her. “Sit here, next to me. I wish to ask you questions.”

She balanced herself on the padded arm of the chair as he instructed. Even from her perch, she couldn’t see him clearly—he was still cloaked in shadows. Why did he hide himself? Was he deformed or disfigured in some way?

“Are you afraid of me?

How should she answer? She wasn’t afraid, but she was nervous. The last thing she wanted was to make a mess out of things and displease him. “No. I’m not afraid, merely curious. I’ve never met a lord before, and I haven’t been around such finery, My Lord.” She hoped her answer would satisfy him.

“Tell me about yourself. Where do you come from? How old are you? Are you a virgin? How many lovers have you had?”

“What?” The questions surprised her, and she spun toward him. As she did, she lost her balance, toppled off the arm of the chair, and fell into Lord Adrik’s lap. She yelped and gazed up at him.

“From the expression on your face I imagine I’m not what you envisioned. What did the villagers tell you? That I had horns? That I was a troll?”

“No, nothing like that. Nobody ever mentioned your looks,” she replied.

Lord Adrik was anything but malformed. In fact, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His black wavy hair hung to his ruffled white collar, his clean-shaven face was long and lean, and his green eyes sparkled in the firelight.

“Do you wish a glass of wine or brandy? It may settle your nerves.”

“No, Your Lordship. My… my… nerves are fine,” she stammered.

“For now,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pinning her close to him. “But in a little while you may wish you had a healthy dose of liquor in you. It would dull the torment of being sacrificed to the Dark Gods.”

What did he mean by that?

***

Order Redemption from a Dark Past here:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DL1FXYW/

All other platforms: https://www.books2read.com/u/3R1aYD

Read reviews here: https://www.kelliwilkins.com/redemption-from-a-dark-past

Happy Reading,

Kelli A. Wilkins

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kelli A. Wilkins is an award-winning author who has published more than 100 short stories, 20+ romance novels, and 6 mystery/horror ebooks. Her romances span many genres and settings, and she likes to scare readers with her horror and mystery stories.

She released The Route 9 Killer, a mystery/thriller set in Central NJ, in early 2023.

Kelli’s paranormal/mystery romance, In Another World, was published in 2022. She released two horror shorts, More Than I Bargained For and Silent Sentinel in 2021.

Follow Kelli on her Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKelliWilkins and visit her website/blog www.KelliWilkins.com for a full title list and social media links.

 

New Release Spotlight/Giveaway: Mrs. Rochester's Ghost

 

Discover the world of Lindsay Marcott in her new release, Mrs. Rochester's Ghost. 

Jane Eyre for the Modern Age with Lindsay Marcott 

 

What is it about Jane Eyre that has made it a blockbuster for over a hundred and seventy years? The breathtaking writing, yes. The gripping plot: part Gothic romance, part coming-of-age story. The swooning romance between a rich man and a poor orphan, and the shock of the mad wife secreted in an attic.

But I think most of all it’s the voice of Jane herself: a young woman with an extraordinary sense of her own worth and independence. A voice that was revolutionary in 1847 when Charlotte Brontë published it. At the time, women had little say outside family and home. Their career opportunities outside of marriage were limited to underpaid servants and schoolteachers. Female characters in early Victorian novels were usually portrayed as either sugary too-good-to-be-true angels or fallen women seeking repentance.

Jane is neither. She’s constricted by the society she lives in--she needs to keep a stifling job as a governess or else starve to death—but she makes it clear she’d rather starve than sacrifice her will or stifle her intelligence. As a child, she has a temper and a will, even though she’s punished harshly for it. Later, when her employer, Mr. Rochester, grills her, she responds with strong opinions and engages in spirited debates. And when he tempts her to go live in sin with him in Europe, she escapes through the only means available to her—by running off to the surrounding moors, though it probably means she will die in those wilds. And she will not return to him until she learns he has fundamentally changed, and she can now love him passionately and physically without compromising her true self.

I believe it’s this will and independence of Jane’s that keep modern readers coming back for more (not to mention that throbbing romance!), and these are the same elements that inspire continual adaptations of the story. I had long dreamed of creating modern versions of these characters, because they so thrilled and delighted me and taught me life lessons over many years of my rereading the book. A nervy dream, yes. But also one that presented huge challenges: there are so many elements of the book that just won’t fly in an updated story.

For example: a current-day Jane would not be able to keep her curiosity under wraps about all the strange and spooky things going on in Mr. Rochester’s house. She wouldn’t just accept vague explanations or agree to his request to simply not ask about them. She would be itching to find out more.

Also a sexual relationship outside of marriage is no longer a taboo for most women of today. Jane wouldn’t have to flee that temptation. And of course a modern Mr. Rochester would be able to divorce a mad wife, though no doubt having to pay a heavy alimony for her future care. So that’s no longer even an obstacle.

But lies are always a problem in a relationship. Especially big lies.

A secret bigamist is a pretty big lie.

Being a secret murderer would be an even bigger one.

It was thinking about this that gave me the idea of adapting the book as a modern thriller. One in which Rochester does not have a stashed-away wife—instead he’s suspected of murdering a famous wife who has now disappeared. Jane would have to surreptitiously seek out the truth about him--guilty or not?--before she could give in to falling in love. And when spooky things happened, she would need to confront those as well. She would be risking an enormous amount. Losing the love of her life. And maybe also losing her life.

And so I set about writing a thriller, adding startling new twists, putting in jumps and shivers. The result is Mrs. Rochester’s Ghost. It was a joy to write, and I certainly hope it’s an equal joy to read.

About the Book

Title: Mrs. Rochester’s Ghost

Author: Lindsay Marcott

Release Date: August 1, 2021

Publisher: Thomas & Mercer

Summary

 

Jane has lost everything: job, mother, relationship, even her home. A friend calls to offer an unusual deal—a cottage above the crashing surf of Big Sur on the estate of his employer, Evan Rochester. In return, Jane will tutor his teenage daughter. She accepts.

But nothing is quite as it seems at the Rochester estate. Though he’s been accused of murdering his glamorous and troubled wife, Evan Rochester insists she drowned herself. Jane is skeptical, but she still finds herself falling for the brilliant and secretive entrepreneur and growing close to his daughter.

And yet her deepening feelings for Evan can’t disguise dark suspicions aroused when a ghostly presence repeatedly appears in the night’s mist and fog. Jane embarks on an intense search for answers and uncovers evidence that soon puts Evan’s innocence into question. She’s determined to discover what really happened that fateful night, but what will the truth cost her?

Mrs. Rochester’s Ghost Excerpt

The fog streamed in white scarves and pennants, with a bright half moon playing hide-and-seek among them. I walked briskly down the asphalt drive, Pilot racing figure eights around me. We cut across switchbacks toward the highway. I kept to the gravel shoulder as the grade descended.

A pair of headlights glowered in the mist, then swept swiftly by. 

The highway continued to dip. Pilot romped ahead and disappeared from my sight around a curve. 

“Pilot!” I heard him barking but couldn’t see him. I quickened my steps. 

I found myself in the middle of a dense cloud. Fog gathered in the depression in the road. 

“Pilot?” I yelled again. “Where are you?” 

Excited yapping. But he was a ghost dog. 

The roar of a motorcycle echoed from around the far side of the bend. Through the blanketing cloud, I caught a glimpse of the poodle trotting onto the road. 

“Pilot, get back here!” I screamed. 

The motorcycle’s headlamp glowed dimly as it appeared on the near side of the bend. Pilot barked with sudden frenzy. The headlamp veered crazily. Pilot darted off the road into the underbrush. A sickening sound of tires skidding out of control on gravel. A shout. 

With horror, I watched motorcycle and rider slam down onto the gravel shoulder. 

I ran toward the rider. He was sprawled crookedly next to the bike, but his limbs, encased in black leather and jeans, were moving stiffly. Alive, at least. With a groan, he hoisted himself up onto his elbows.

“Are you okay?” I shined my flashlight on him. He whipped his head. “What the hell are you?” 

“Just a person,” I said quickly. 

He yanked his goggles down. “For Chrissake. I meant who are you? What are you doing here?” 

“Taking a walk.” 

“What kind of lunatic goes out for a walk in this kind of fog?” 

“Maybe the same kind of lunatic who drives way too fast in it.” 

“You call that fast? Christ.” He gingerly gathered himself into a sitting position, then flexed his feet in the heavy boots experimentally. He took off his helmet and shook out a head of rough black curls. A week’s tangle of rough salt-and-pepper beard nearly obscured a wide mouth. The prominent nose might be called stately on a more good-natured face. “What the hell was that creature in the middle of the road?” 

“A dog.” 

“A dog?” 

“A standard poodle. Unclipped.” 

He put the helmet back on, then pulled a cell phone from his jacket and squinted at the screen. “Nothing,” he muttered. 

“The reception’s kind of iffy around here.”

He flung out an arm. “Help me up, okay?” 

I approached him tentatively. He was over six feet and powerfully built. About twice my weight, I guessed. “I’m not sure I can pull you.” 

“Yeah, you probably can’t. Stoop down a little.” 

God, he’s rude. I did, and he draped his arm around my shoulder, transferring his weight. My knees buckled a little but didn’t give. He began to stand, crumpled slightly, then got his balance and pulled himself up straight. 

I suddenly became aware of his intense physicality. The power of his arm and shoulder against my body, the taut spring of the muscles in his chest. As if he sensed what I was feeling, he shook off my support and stood on his own feet.

“At least you can put weight on your feet,” I said. “That’s a good sign.” 

“Are you a medical professional?” 

“No.” 

“Then your opinion doesn’t count for much at the moment.” 

Go to hell, was on the tip of my tongue. But the fog’s chill was making me sniffle. It seemed absurd to attempt a stinging retort with a dripping nose. I swiped it surreptitiously with the sleeve of my jacket. 

He walked, limping slightly, to the Harley. “This thing’s supposed to take a corner. That’s the main reason I bought it!” He gave the seat a savage kick. Then he hopped on his nonkicking boot and shook a fist as if in defiance of some bully of a god who particularly had it in for him. 

I laughed. 

He whirled on me. My laughter froze. The look of fury on his face sent a thrill of alarm through me. I edged backward; I felt at that moment he could murder me without compunction and leave my corpse to be devoured by coyotes and bobcats.

But then, to my astonishment, he grinned. “You’re right. I look like an ass.” 

Pilot suddenly came crashing out of the underbrush.

“Is that your mutt?” 

“Yes. Though, actually, not mine. He’s a recent addition at the place I’m staying.” 

He stared at me, a thought dawning. I forced myself to stare back: deep-set eyes, dark as ink. I was about to introduce myself, but he yanked the goggles back over his eyes and stooped to the handlebar of the bike. “Help me get this up. Grab the other bar. You pull and I’ll push.” 

“It’s too heavy.” 

“I’ll do the heavy lifting. Just do what you can.” 

Obstinately, I didn’t move. 

“Please,” he added. He made the word sound like an obscenity. 

I took a grudging step forward and grabbed hold of the handlebar with both hands. I tugged it toward me as he lifted his side with a grunt. The bike slowly rose upright. 

“Hold it steady,” he said. 

It felt like it weighed several tons—it took every ounce of my strength to keep my side up as he straddled the seat. He grasped both bars. Engaged the clutch, cursing in pain as he stomped on the pedal. He glanced at me briefly. 

And then, sending up a heavy spray of gravel, the Harley roared off into the enveloping fog.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Rochester!” I shouted into the deepening gloom.

***

BOOK GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Author

Lindsay Marcott is the author of The Producer’s Daughter and six previous novels written as Lindsay Maracotta. Her books have been translated into eleven languages and adapted for cable. She also wrote for the Emmy-nominated HBO series The Hitchhiker and co-produced a number of films. She lives on the coast of California. You can contact the author on her website at https://www.lindsaymarcott.com/. 

The Rules of Dreaming Blog Tour/Contest

Welcome author Bruce Hartman today to the Reading Nook blog. 

To get us started can you tell us a little about what you are working on or have coming out?

My new book, THE RULES OF DREAMING, is just out.  It’s an unconventional mystery/suspense novel which should appeal to readers of a literary bent with a taste for the gothic and an interest in music and literature.

I’ll have a more conventional mystery out in the Fall.  And after that I have another unconventional mystery that will be out next Spring.  I’m also working on a couple of comedies. All in all, I expect to be publishing about two books a year for the next few years.

How would you describe yourself using only five words?

Wide-ranging interests, literature, music, history.

Do you have any guilty pleasures?

            Mojitos (although I’m not much into guilt).

If we asked your muse to describe you using five words, what do you think they would say?

Easily inspired, hard to focus.

Name one thing readers would be surprised to know about you.

I can be heard as a caller on one of the “Best of Car Talk” compilations.  Hint: I once owned a 1962 Ford Fairlane.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Italy or the South of France.

How do you get yourself in the mood to write?

I don’t have any problem getting in the mood to write.  Usually if I just sit down at my computer that’s what I start doing.  It’s what I like to do.  I usually have to get myself in the mood to do something else.

If someone hasn't read any of your work, what book would you recommend that they start with and why?

I would recommend the new book, THE RULES OF DREAMING.  (Heck, there are only two of them!)  Admittedly it’s an unusual book, probably not for everyone.  My previous book, PERFECTLY HEALTHY MAN DROPS DEAD, is a more conventional mystery, and people tell me it’s pretty funny and entertaining.  The two books are very different.  I doubt if I will ever write a series or any list of very similar books.

Where do you find the inspirations for your stories?

It’s usually from an idea or concept, less often from a setting or incident or character.  I have a pretty wide-ranging background of interests and experiences as well as reading.  I’ve worked as a musician, attorney and bookseller, among other things.  I’ve lived in cities, suburbs and farms, and traveled in many countries.  I read several languages.  So the ideas can come from anywhere.

Are your characters able to love or do they need to be taught?

That’s a good question.  I think a novelist has to love his characters (even the bad ones) on some level and care about them in order to make them seem real, and a similar principle probably applies among the characters themselves.  It’s easy to say that a character loves another one, but difficult to show love growing between them without resorting to cliches.  Luckily, in mysteries you don’t have to go too deeply into that!  It’s something I’d like to get better at.

Do you have a book that was easiest to write or one that was the hardest?

It’s never easy.  If it seems easy, you go back and make it harder.

If you could collaborate with one author who would it be?

Tragically he’s no longer with us, but my answer would be David Foster Wallace.  There is a density of thought in his writing, sentence by sentence, word by word, that I find astonishing.  If I were collaborating with him I would be left in the dust, but it would be quite an experience.

Coffee, tea or other drink to get you moving in the morning?

Several cups of black coffee get me going in the morning.  The aroma of it brewing is my alarm clock.

What is coming up from you in 2013? Anything you want to tease us with?

There will be another book out in the Fall.  I thought it was done but now I’m making some last minute changes.  I’m superstitious enough that I don’t want to mention the title or what it’s about.  It’s a mystery, rather complex but more conventional than The Rules of Dreaming.

If you had a reporter follow you around for the day, what would the readers get to see in your daily schedule?

I don’t really follow a schedule, but on a typical day, following me around would be a very boring experience.  Just ask my wife.

When you begin your stories, do you go with the flow, or go with an outline?

I always go with the flow, based on the initial concept that inspired me to start the story.  I brainstorm as many ideas, incidents, scenes, dialogues, descriptions, etc. that I can from that concept before trying to map it all out into a plot.

Is it hard coming up with titles or characters names?

Titles are hard.  But when you’re working on a book for months or years, eventually something comes to you.  Characters’ names just pop into my head; often I change them before the book is put in final form.

If you were to replenish your cabinets with one junk food, what would it be?

Mojitos

Is music a factor for you while you are writing? Do certain songs put you in the right frame of mind to write certain stories?

Music is so important to me that it automatically monopolizes my attention, so I never have it on when I’m writing or otherwise trying to concentrate. Playing the piano is one of my chief pleasures in life.

What do you feel is the most important thing that a first-time author should know?

My philosophy on this is based on years of writing without commercial success.  Maybe it’s sour grapes, but here it is.  If you enjoy writing, do it, and do the best job you can.  Welcome criticism if it makes you a better writer and/or a better person.  Enjoy what you’re doing, and write what only you can write.  Maybe the publishing industry will catch up to you, maybe not.  They’re running a business; you’re life isn’t a business.  Very few people make a significant amount of money from writing fiction, so you’d have to do something else for a living anyway.  If you just write because you enjoy it, keep improving, and say what you have to say, you will get 90% of the benefits that you could expect from being a commercially successful writer, without the negatives.

About the Author: 

Bruce Hartman has been a bookseller, pianist, songwriter and attorney.  He lives with his wife in Philadelphia.  His previous novel, Perfectly Healthy Man Drops Dead, was published by Salvo Press in 2008. 

 The Rules of Dreaming by Bruce Hartman

The Rules of Dreaming

A novel of madness, music — and murder.

A beautiful opera singer hangs herself on the eve of her debut at the Met.  Seven years later the opera she was rehearsing—Offenbach’s Tales of Hoffmann—begins to take over the lives of her two schizophrenic children, the doctors who treat them and everyone else who crosses their paths, until all are enmeshed in a world of deception and delusion, of madness and ultimately of evil and death.  Onto this shadowy stage steps Nicole P., a graduate student who discovers that she too has been assigned a role in the drama. What strange destiny is being worked out in their lives?

Teaser Excerpt:

Nicole was nimble and petite and very pretty.  No, I take that back—“pretty” doesn’t come close to doing her justice.  She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, with cascading red hair and a bold, astonished look in her eyes that made her seem at once wild and angelic. But since my profession has liberated society from all of its taboos save one—that a psychiatrist shall not fall in love with his patient—all I could do was listen sympathetically as she pulled herself back together and prepared to return to her studies.  I put her on appropriate medications and she began to make progress immediately.

As it happened, Nicole had been in the lounge when Hunter sat down to play the piano...

“Nicole,” I said, “did you hear Hunter playing the piano this afternoon?”

“Yes I did.”  She stopped in the doorway, framed in the shadows that darkened the adjoining hall.  “It was impressive, wasn’t it?”

“Impressive isn’t the word, when you realize that he’s never had a lesson or even touched a piano before.”

Her smile faded.  “That’s uncanny.”

“Do you know what piece of music he was playing?”

“I think I’ve heard it before.  One of the German Romantics, I think, maybe Schumann.” 

She started through the door, but just before she disappeared into the shadows she turned back around and her eyes caught a sparkle of the afternoon light.  “He went mad, you know.”

“Who went mad?”

“Robert Schumann.  The composer.  Died in an insane asylum.”

Buy at Amazon

Giveaway Information:

Bruce will award a $50 Amazon or BN.com gift card (winner's choice) to one randomly drawn commenter.

Follow the tour and comment; the more comments you leave, the better the chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/04/virtual-book-tour-rules-of-dreaming-by.html