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They call him the Devil . . .
He is the most notorious laird of Scotland: fierce, cold, deadly . . . and maybe even worse. Yet Evelinde has just agreed to wed him. Anything, she thinks, is better than her cruel stepmother. Though Evelinde should be wary of the rumors, she can't help but be drawn to this warrior . . . for the Devil of the Highlands inspires a heat within her that is unlike anything she has ever known.
They may call him whatever they wish, but Cullen, Laird of Donnachaidh, cares only for the future of his clan. He must find a wife, a woman to bear him sons and heed his commands. He has no need for beauty or grace, but one taste of his lovely bride's sweet lips and the sultry feel of her skin arouse an untamed passion. Perhaps there's more to marriage than he thought . . .
More Reviews and RecommendationsBorn in Southern Ontario, Lynsay Sands is the New York Times bestselling author of the Argeneau Vampire series. She has written more than 34 books and anthologies since her first novel was published in 1997. Her romantic comedies span three genres—historical, contemporary, and paranormal—and have made the Waldenbooks, Barnes & Noble, USA Today, and New York Times bestseller lists.
Lynsay's books are read in more than twelve countries and have been translated into at least six languages. She's been a nominee for both the Romantic Times Best Historical Romance Award and the Romantic Times Best Paranormal Romance Award, was nominated and placed three times in the RIO (Reviewers International Organization) Awards of Excellence, and has several books on All About Romance's Favorite Funnies list.
Author biography courtesy of HarperCollins Publishers
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November 04, 2009: I enjoyed reading this story and trying to figure out the bad guy. I was very proud of myself when I figured it out before I got to the answer. I've never read a Lynsay Sands book before but I'm curious if her other stories have any zing to them. I'm not exactly sure what "zing" is myself but I felt like it was missing from the story. While I was curious about about the "accidents," I didn't feel that pull that just keeps you enthralled throughout the whole story. I don't know; it was still pretty good without the zing. I'm sure I'll grab another book from Ms. Sands bookshelf at some time!
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August 22, 2009: Needs work on scottish dialogue. Reads more like Popeye. Follows the usual romance outline.
Name:
Lynsay Sands
Current Home:
London, Ontario
Place of Birth:
Leamington, Ontario
Born in Southern Ontario, Lynsay Sands is the New York Times bestselling author of the Argeneau Vampire series. She has written more than 34 books and anthologies since her first novel was published in 1997. Her romantic comedies span three genres—historical, contemporary, and paranormal—and have made the Waldenbooks, Barnes & Noble, USA Today, and New York Times bestseller lists.
Lynsay's books are read in more than twelve countries and have been translated into at least six languages. She's been a nominee for both the Romantic Times Best Historical Romance Award and the Romantic Times Best Paranormal Romance Award, was nominated and placed three times in the RIO (Reviewers International Organization) Awards of Excellence, and has several books on All About Romance's Favorite Funnies list.
Author biography courtesy of HarperCollins Publishers
1.) I started The Deed (my first romantic comedy and the first book to be published) a year after my mother's death. I was very close to my mother and the year following her death was about the most miserable time imaginable. But then I decided I was tired of being down and unhappy, and looked around for something to lift my spirits and make me laugh. When I couldn't find anything, I decided to sit down and write my own. It worked! Emmalene and Amaury's antics in The The Deed had me chuckling as I wrote.
2.) I met my husband in New York in July 2003. I was there because of the RWA conference and he was there on vacation. The first day there we kept running into each other and chatting in front of the hotel, and then he asked to join our group (it was very brave of him. He was the lone male amongst six or seven women, lol). He's a Brit and I'm Canadian and the first two months of our relationship were conducted by phone as well as over the internet. Our first date was a week in New York in September, followed by three weeks in England. He then came to Canada in both November and December, the first time to propose and the second time for Christmas with my family and then to take me back to England with him for New Years. I lived in Northern England for two years. We married in New York and now live in Canada.
3.) I was writing about my husband before I met him. Single White Vampire came out in September 2003 and I took a copy with me to England when I went for the three weeks. I walked into my now-hubby's house to find at least six months worth of mail unopened and stacked up on a shelf inside the front door. When I stopped dead, eyes going wide with shock and asked "My God. That's mail. You don't open your mail?" He looked embarrassed and muttered some explanation about bills automatically being paid by the bank so no need to open those and everything else was unsolicited and he couldn't be bothered. When I burst out laughing, he started to frown and said "What?" My response was to dig out the copy of Single White Vampire and hand it over with the suggestion he read it. The mail thing wasn't the only similarity he had to Lucern Argeneau. There are many more and when he sat down to read the book, he kept stopping and turning a rather startled and even suspicious gaze my way and muttering that this sounded familiar" or that did. I had to point out that it really was coincidence, that I had written that story at least nine months before meeting him. LOL.
What are your ten favorite books, and what makes them special to you?
This is a hard question for me. I am horrible at recalling names and titles. Aside from that, when it comes to books I'm kind of like a cheap tart dropped amongst a boat load of sailors. I love them all. While I keep every book I read, I've never read a book more than once, there's always another one to read. However, regarding favorites...
For me the first book that stands out in my mind isn't one but many. The Nancy Drew series. I adored those books when young and am pretty sure I read every one. I don't think they have a single author but various. Either way, I couldn't tell you names of authors or even book titles, just that I loved the books and that if I couldn't grow up to be Nancy Drew and have the adventure and mystery in life that she had, then growing up to write such things is a lovely alternative.
Another early influence was Julie Garwood's early works. I'm afraid when I was young I was completely turned off historical romance by some pretty horrid bodice rippers owned by my grandmother on my father's side. Stories from the day when the "hero" could be completely horrid to the female; abuse her verbally, treat her cruelly and even rape her and yet the heroine "loved him" and understood he was just "wounded" and that - with the love of a good woman - he could be tamed, changed, healed. Ugh! Bleck! Yuck! I mean geeeeeeez, how could any woman fall in love with a man who starts out by being beastly? Puhleeeeze!! So, I was totally anti-romance, and then, while I was in University, my sister brought me a Julie Garwood book. I'm afraid I can't remember which one, but she brought it around and said I should read it. I wasn't interested. She pestered me to read it. I just kept shaking my head with disgust and muttering "Historical romance! No thanks!" She assured me it wasn't "like that" and begged me to read it. Nope, not me. This went on for months. I forget now how she actually convinced me to read it. It might have been sheer determination and that I read it just to get her off my back. Certainly, I read it expecting to toss it aside after a chapter or so and inform her - with some vindication - that historicals were utter. . . ummm . . . garbage. Instead, I had to admit it was good, and fun, and the hero was actually worthy of the title. It was the first time I saw historicals as something that could be fun and entertaining.
If I'm going to list favorites, I also have to mention anything by Dean Koontz. I've been reading him FOREVER. Okay, that makes us both sound ancient, but you know what I mean. Dean Koontz just somehow manages to grab you with the first paragraph and hold onto you until the end. And while he's listed as a horror writer, really his books usually have everything in them; suspense, adventure, action, romance and even mystery. I've never read a Dean Koontz I haven't liked.
And then, of course, there's J. K. Rowling. Few people have managed to avoid getting drawn into her Harry and Hogwarts world, and I'm afraid I was in the first wave of converts. How could you help but love a story that was like a fairy tale. There's poor Harry a male Cinderella being treated so shabbily and forced to live under the stairs until along comes Hagrid to inform him he's special. He's taken away to an amazing world, an incredible and fascinating alternate reality where he's famous and where he finds a family of his own as well as people who care about him. It's classic!
The most recent favorite I've found is Deborah MacGillvray. I read her first book Restless Knight before it was published and gave a quote for the cover. I don't often experience envy of other author's skills, but will admit that I did while reading Restless Knight. This author is very, very talented. I am not big on books that spend thirty or forty pages describing a room or scene. They bore me. I've always felt self-conscious about admitting that because someone once said that it was a sign of the MTV age and immaturity and a short attention span. Basically, they made me feel a complete idiot with "immature and unrefined" tastes for not enjoying a three page description of a leaf on the ground. Well, my answer to that will now be that it's a shame to waste so much space on such descriptions when a really gifted writer can give you enough description with just a few deft words that you can feel the warmth of a fire on your cheek and hear the crackle and hiss of it as it burns. Ms MacGillvray can do that. That first book was exceptional and I have since purchased her second historical as well as her two contemps that have followed . . . now I just have to find the time to read them. That's something I'm looking forward to. If they're half as good as her first book, I know I'll enjoy them.
I guess I'd best stop there. Each favorite author or series I've mentioned has anywhere from 4 to 60 books so I've definitely done the ten.
What types of music do you like? Is there any particular kind you like to listen to when you're writing?
I like all types of music; pop, rock, classic rock, classical. Sometimes I'll restrict myself to classical music while writing historicals, but otherwise anything goes and the music I listen to depends on my mood.
If you had a book club, what would it be reading -- and why?
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Because its one book I could be relatively certain everyone would enjoy.
What are your favorite kinds of books to give -- and get -- as gifts?
I never buy books as gifts. Book choices are very personal and I'd be afraid to get them the wrong book. Besides, hanging out at the bookstore and picking the book is half the fun in my opinion. So, instead I give them gift cards so that they can make the selection themselves.
Do you have any special writing rituals? For example, what do you have on your desk when you're writing?
I clean my desk and office before I start a new story. I think it's a mental "clearing of the path" for me. I also have a lucky troll that sits on my desk. He's been there from the start.
What are you working on now?
The next Argeneau story.
Many writers are hardly "overnight success" stories. How long did it take for you to get where you are today? Any rejection-slip horror stories or inspirational anecdotes?
I sent my first book in to Harlequin between high school and university and received -- not a rejection, but a letter basically saying to make some changes and send it back in, as well as to send in anything else I'd written. Unfortunately, I didn't realize how wonderful a letter that was at the time or that it meant I'd caught this editor's attention or even what that meant. All I really registered was that the story wasn't good enough and was being rejected. In truth, I don't think I was ready to enter the publishing world (grin). So, I got a full time job and went to University full time and so on. It was ten years before I wrote The Deed, sent it in and sold it.
If you could choose one new writer to be "discovered," who would it be -- and why?
Deborah MacGillvray - The woman can write. Everything of hers I've read so far is great, but her historicals are especially powerful. Her plots are solid, characters are loveable and she has a way with description that draws you in and puts you right there with the characters amongst the heather and mist.
What tips or advice do you have for writers still looking to be discovered?
Write what you love to read. If you're loving it, others are more likely to love it too.
Start with a bang!! Editors are busy people, you want to grab their attention right away, not be tossed aside after they've skimmed a couple of pages. So, grab their attention with your opening and then don't let it go.
Try to avoid the slush pile, query rather than just send the manuscript in cold. Go get a copy of The Writer's Market for this year (they put one out every year) This book will help with the query and help you figure out which publishers print your sort of story, which of them accept unagented, unsolicited manuscripts, and just basically who to query.
Good luck!!
What else would you like your readers to know? Consider here your likes and dislikes, your interests and hobbies, your favorite ways to unwind -- whatever comes to mind.
I'm a very shy person. Really, it's true. No one believes me but it is true.
They call him the Devil . . .
He is the most notorious laird of Scotland: fierce, cold, deadly . . . and maybe even worse. Yet Evelinde has just agreed to wed him. Anything, she thinks, is better than her cruel stepmother. Though Evelinde should be wary of the rumors, she can't help but be drawn to this warrior . . . for the Devil of the Highlands inspires a heat within her that is unlike anything she has ever known.
They may call him whatever they wish, but Cullen, Laird of Donnachaidh, cares only for the future of his clan. He must find a wife, a woman to bear him sons and heed his commands. He has no need for beauty or grace, but one taste of his lovely bride's sweet lips and the sultry feel of her skin arouse an untamed passion. Perhaps there's more to marriage than he thought . . .
Loading...Chapter One
Northern England
1273
"My lady!"
That anxious cry made Evelinde pause in what she was saying to Cook and glance around. Her maid was rushing across the kitchens toward her, expression both angry and worried. It was a combination usually only engendered by Edda's actions. Wondering what her stepmother had got up to now, Evelinde quickly promised Cook they would finish their discussion of menus later, and went to meet her maid.
Mildrede caught her hands the moment they reached one another. Her mouth turned down grimly as she announced, "Your stepmother is calling for you."
Evelinde grimaced. Edda only sent for her when she was in one of her foul moods and wished to cheer herself by abusing her unfortunate stepdaughter. For one moment, Evelinde considered ignoring the summons and finding a task away from the keep for the rest of the day. However, that would only make the woman's mood—and the subsequent abuses—worse.
"I had best go see what she wants then," Evelinde said and squeezed Mildrede's hands reassuringly before moving past her.
"She's smiling," Mildrede warned, following on her heels.
Evelinde paused with her hand on the door to the great hall, trepidation running through her. A smiling Edda was not a good thing. It usuallymeant Evelinde was about to suffer. Not that the woman ever dared hit her, but there were worse things, tasks so unpleasant one would almost prefer a beating. Biting her lip with worry, she asked, "Do you know what has set her off this time?"
"Nay," Mildrede said apologetically. "She was railing at Mac for not pampering her mare properly when a messenger arrived from the king. She read the message, smiled, and called for you."
"Oh," Evelinde breathed faintly, but then forced her shoulders straight, raised her head, and pushed through the door. It was the only thing she could do . . . That and pray that someday, she would be free of her stepmother's control and abuses.
"Ah, Evelinde!" Edda was indeed smiling—a very wide, beaming smile that really didn't bode well.
"I was told you wished to speak with me?" Evelinde said quietly, aware of Mildrede hovering at her back. The woman always offered her support during Edda's little attacks.
"Aye." Edda continued to flash a wide, toothy smile, although toothless would have been as good a description. The woman was missing half her teeth. and those remaining were brown and crooked. Edda rarely smiled, and certainly never widely enough to show off the state of her mouth. Her doing so now made Evelinde's anxiety increase tenfold.
"Since your father's death, seeing to your welfare has fallen to me, and I have been most concerned about your future and well-being, my dear," Edda began.
Evelinde managed not to sneer at the claim of concern. Her father, James d'Aumesbery, had been a good man and a faithful baron to their king. When Henry III had requested he marry the troublesome Edda and remove her from court, where she was making a nuisance of herself, her father had bowed to the task gracefully. Edda had not. She'd resented being tied to a man who held only a barony and had seemed to take an instant dislike to Evelinde on reaching d'Aumesbery.
It hadn't been so bad at first. With the presence of Evelinde's father and her brother, Alexander, Edda had at least behaved cordially to her. However, Alexander had ridden off to join the Crusades with Prince Edward three years earlier. While the prince had since returned and been crowned king on his father's death, Alexander was still in Tunis. Worse yet, no sooner had he left than their father died of a chest complaint.
James d'Aumesbery hadn't even been placed in the family crypt before Edda dropped any pretense at civility and let her true feelings show. These last three years had been a hell Evelinde feared she would never escape. Her only hope was to await her brother's homecoming so that he might see her married and settled far away from the woman. Unfortunately, Alexander seemed in no rush to return.
"I have decided 'tis well past time you married," Edda announced, "and the king agrees with me."
"She means the king decided you should marry, and she was forced to agree," Mildrede muttered behind her, low enough that Edda couldn't hear. "You don't think she'd willingly give up tormenting you. It's her favorite pastime."
Evelinde barely heard her maid, she was too busy trying to absorb what Edda was saying. Part of her feared it was simply a cruel attempt on Edda's part to get her hopes up, then dash them.
"And so I chose a husband for you, and the king negotiated a marriage contract," Edda announced grandly. "I have just received a message that 'tis all done. You will be married."
Evelinde simply waited, knowing there was more. Edda would either explain it was all a jest, or name some perfectly horrid, smelly old lord that Evelinde would surely be miserable with.
"Your betrothed is on his way here from his home even as we speak. He is the laird of Donnachaidh," she announced triumphantly, pronouncing it Don-o-kay.
Evelinde gasped. This was worse than a smelly old lord, this was—"the Devil of Donnachaidh?"
Edda's expression was full of evil glee. "Aye, and I wish you all the unhappiness in the world."
"Bitch," Mildrede hissed furiously from behind Evelinde.
Ignoring her maid, Evelinde managed to force away the horror and dismay and keep her features expressionless. She would not add to Edda's pleasure by revealing how deep this blow had struck. The Devil of Donnachaidh? The woman didn't just hate her, she despised her if she was willing to hand her over to that infamous Scottish laird.
"Now be gone," Edda said, apparently having had her fun. "I do not wish to look on you anymore."
Evelinde nodded stiffly and turned, catching Mildrede by the arm to lead her out of the great hall and the keep itself.
Excerpted from Devil of the Highlands by Lynsay Sands Copyright © 2009 by Lynsay Sands. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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