DELIVERY & GIFT DETAILS:
Usually ships within 24 hours
Delivery Time and Shipping Rates
Eligible for gift wrap & gift message.

Reserve it at BN.com & pick it up in 60 minutes at your local store.
Enter a zip code
(Mass Market Paperback)
| More Formats | |
|---|---|
| Mass Market Paperback | $4.99 |
It is to be hoped that her groom is partial to cherries. For Avelyn fears she will very much resemble one at their wedding feast. Too round, too red in the scarlet gown that is all she can fit into -- and perhaps too tart for his taste? No doubt he longs for a sweet, biddable bride, one who is as tiny and trim as she is trying to appear.
Paen Gerville longs for a lively, well-rounded woman, one whose plump breast will cushion his head after the lonely, harsh life of a solitary fighting knight. At first his wife-to-be promises no such delights, but one split bridal gown later, her assets are eye-poppingly apparent and Paen can only grin as he anticipates his wedding night with...THE PERFECT WIFE
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
Reader Rating:
See Detailed Ratings
April 27, 2009: My first book from Sands. I thought she did a wonderful job. Characters were easy to relate to and the plot was intriguing. Was exciting to find who the villain would be and an unexpected surprise when you did. A very nice happy ending to characters who deserved it.
I Also Recommend: The Devil in Winter (Wallflower Series #3), Gabriel's Bride, Love Only Once, Dark Lover (Black Dagger Brotherhood Series #1), Dark Prince (Dark Series #1).
Reader Rating:
See Detailed Ratings
October 15, 2005: I really enjoyed this one. Some of the scenes were so funny, I had to stop reading it with people around bacause I was getting strange looks. It just kept me laughing so much! It is a truly funny, warm story that anyone who isn't 'perfect' would love!
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.
It is to be hoped that her groom is partial to cherries. For Avelyn fears she will very much resemble one at their wedding feast. Too round, too red in the scarlet gown that is all she can fit into -- and perhaps too tart for his taste? No doubt he longs for a sweet, biddable bride, one who is as tiny and trim as she is trying to appear.
Paen Gerville longs for a lively, well-rounded woman, one whose plump breast will cushion his head after the lonely, harsh life of a solitary fighting knight. At first his wife-to-be promises no such delights, but one split bridal gown later, her assets are eye-poppingly apparent and Paen can only grin as he anticipates his wedding night with...THE PERFECT WIFE
Loading..."Hmm?" Lady Christina Gerville glanced up from her meal with surprise at those muttered words. Her gaze softened as it ran over the man seated between she and her husband. Paen Gerville, her son. His long dark hair was caught in a ponytail low at the back of his neck, his face was clean shaven and he was wearing the new forest green tunic she'd made for this auspicious occasion. He looked much as his own father had on their wedding day; handsome, strong and just about as grumpy she noted with mild amusement. Then she recalled what he'd muttered to catch her attention and asked, "What is strange, son?"
"This." Paen gestured around the trestle tables filled with people. Lord and Lady Straughton, and all their people surrounded them, all but one. The most important one in his mind. "Where is my bride? 'Tis damned strange that she is not here. She was not about when we arrived last night either. Something is amiss."
Lady Gerville exchanged an amused glance with her husband, Wimarc, as he turned from his conversation with Lord Straughton to hear the end of Paen's comment.
"There is nothing amiss, boy," Lord Wimarc Gerville assured his son. "No doubt the girl is delayed by ... er ... beautifying type things. Typical female stuff. Women are always the last to arrive," he assured him. Then, catching the way his wife's eyes narrowed with displeasure the older man cleared his throat and sent an apologetic smile her way for slandering the whole of her gender before continuing, "Well, anyway, just refrain from worrying. 'Tis just those wedding jitters I warned you about, they are playing havoc with you."
He concluded this bit of encouragement by giving his son what he considered to be a gentle supportive nudge. That nudge nearly sent his large son flying backward off the bench, but Paen - used to his father's affectionate thumps and bumps - grabbed at the table and was able to save himself from ending in an ignoble heap in the rushes.
Grunting as he settled back in place, Paen picked up a piece of cheese and took a bite, but he was distracted. His gaze was locked on the stairs he expected his bride to descend any moment. He knew his father was right and that he was unusually nervous, but Paen had no idea why. It had come upon him suddenly. He hadn't been the least uncertain on the way here. In his mind there had been nothing to be uncertain about. He was merely collecting his betrothed, making her his wife.
True, it was a new venture for him, but 'twas not much different than collecting a new war horse and he'd done that oft times. 'Twas nothing to get all worked up about.
Or so he'd thought on the journey here yesterday. This morning however, Paen was of a different mind. It had suddenly occurred to him that a wife might be a somewhat different proposition than a horse. After all, a man needn't bed his horse. He also didn't have to live out his life with the horse for however long he should be fortunate enough - or unfortunate enough as the case may be - to live. And, too, he could always sell the horse if it displeased him. Unfortunately, one could not sell a wife, no matter how bad she was.
On top of all that, he had yet to set eyes on his would-be bride. It seemed almost to him that she was avoiding him. He found it hard to imagine that was a good sign.
* * *
"Suck in your breath a bit more, my lady."
"I cannot, Runilda. This is as much as I can suck in." Avelyn pushed the words out on the last of the air left in her lungs, then had to inhale a bit to ask, "How close are we?"
The painful silence that followed her question was answer enough. Avelyn let her breath out on a defeated sigh. "'Tis no use, Runilda. I shall not get this gown on, and we both know it. Besides, even did I manage the chore, no doubt the seams would split the moment you finished fastening the hooks."
"I am sorry, my lady. I should not have taken it in so much." Runilda released her hold on the sides of the gown and stepped around in front of Avelyn, her face a portrait of guilt.
"'Tis not your fault. I ordered it done." Avelyn sank dispiritedly onto the end of the bed. She was biting her lip furiously, her mind racing over her options. There were very few that she could see. She had not lost two stone in the last two weeks since her determination that she would. She hadn't lost one stone either. She hadn't even lost an ounce. In fact, despite all her determination and her best efforts, Avelyn very much feared that she may have gained a pound or two instead. The lovely blue gown she and Runilda had planned and worked so hard over would not fit.
On the bright side, she supposed she would no longer need fear looking like a giant blueberry on this her wedding day. Unfortunately, that left her with the choice of resembling a large cherry or a pile of-
"Perhaps we could let the seams back out," Runilda suggested doubtfully, but Avelyn knew that was impossible. She had insisted the cloth be cut away to ensure her success at losing weight. She was an idiot. She had even deceived herself into thinking that she had lost some weight. Right up until that morning, Avelyn had been positive that her day gowns were growing looser. She was a fool. Her gowns had already been loose. Avelyn preferred them that way and had them made so.
She should have tried the gown on sooner, of course. Then, at least, there would have been the chance of doing something about it. But she hadn't. What with all the arrangements for the wedding, the feast and the influx of guests, there had been so much to do that she simply hadn't thought of her gown or the fact that she'd asked Runilda to take it in. Then to, in her heart of hearts, Avelyn supposed she'd not wished to face the reality that she would be married looking as fat as ever. She'd wished to hold on to her dream of looking lithe and lovely as she started her new life. She was a fool.
Forcing away the misery and self-pity attempting to swamp her, Avelyn stood abruptly and began to struggle out of what was supposed to have been her wedding gown.
"Well, it shall have to be the red gown then. 'Tis the one with the least wear." She tried not to think of the reason for that. The last thing she needed was to fret over its unfortunate effect of turning her face florid. Fortunately, Runilda was kind enough not to bring up that point and merely murmured a heart-broken, "Oh, my lady."
Hearing the tremble in the young maid's voice, Avelyn stiffened her spine. "Here, now. No crying, Runilda, else you shall start me crying as well. Although that would not be all that bad, I suppose. A red and blotchy face and eyes would go nicely with my red gown."
Her attempt at humor failed somewhat and actually saw the maid bursting into tears. Swallowing unhappily, Avelyn turned away from the sight, determined that she would withstand this disaster with all the dignity and aplomb she could muster. She would not cry. Even if Lord Paen Gerville should reject her on sight, she would hold her head high and keep a calm and unaffected facade.
Leaving Runilda to mop up her tears, Avelyn moved to her chest and sorted through its contents until she found the red gown in question. Her mouth twisted as she unearthed the dress and she paused to caress the soft material with her fingers. She'd thought it the loveliest material she'd ever seen when the traveling merchant had brought it out of his wagon to show her. Avelyn had imagined the cool cloth cut in simple lines, flowing over her body in caressing waves. Of course, she'd imagined herself lean and lovely in the gown. An image that had stayed in her head even once the gown was finished and she tried it on. Avelyn had felt more than beautiful on first donning it ... then she'd gone below for the sup.
Hugo, Stacius and Eunice had been quick to help clear her vision. Their caustic comments and cruel words had sliced at her pride and pleasure in the new gown, leaving her feeling large and ungainly. It was Eunice who had pointed out that the color had an unfortunate effect on her complexion. Hugo had laughed and commented that he'd hardly noticed what with being distracted by the very girth of her in what appeared to him to be a warrior's blood-soaked traveling tent.
Avelyn had never worn the gown again. Hence the reason it was her least worn gown and why it had not faded from washing and had no frayed hems on the skirt or sleeves. It was the reason she would be meeting her betrothed looking like a large round cherry.
It was to be hoped that Paen Gerville was partial to cherries, she thought with a touch of self-mockery as she lifted the gown out of the chest and gave it a sharp snap.
Most of her gowns - including this one - had been packed away for the journey to Gerville. According to the letter Lord Gerville had sent, they intended to stay for only a few days after the wedding, then hoped to return home, carrying the new bride with them so that she might settle into her new home while the weather was still fine. Avelyn grimaced over the unavoidable wrinkles in the red fabric, then shrugged inwardly. She was sure a few wrinkles would hardly be noticed next to her vast girth.
Trying not to think on how much she'd come to hate this gown, Avelyn stoically set to donning it, relieved when Runilda recovered enough to help her with the fastenings. The maid had just finished the task and stepped back to look her over when the chamber door opened.
"Avelyn!" her mother cried. "What are you doing? You are not even in your dress yet! Paen is impatient to meet with you before the wedding."
"What is he like?" Avelyn asked as her mother hurried to her side. The Gerville's were supposed to have reached Straughton early the day before, giving Avelyn and Paen at least a little time to become acquainted. However, the day had passed with an agonizing slowness and no sign of her betrothed and his party. Most of the other guests had arrived and been settled in before a messenger had arrived with the news that there had been a mishap with one of the Gerville's wagons and they were delayed. Avelyn had already been abed when they finally arrived at Straughton.
If she were to be honest, Avelyn had been relieved at the delay in having to present herself before her betrothed. Her cousin's taunts that he would surely reject her the moment he laid eyes on her had haunted Avelyn these last two weeks. This was a possibility she'd never considered until then, but had fretted over repeatedly since her cousin had suggested it. And each time she considered the possibility, she felt queasy with anxiety.
"He seems very nice," her mother assured her. "In fact, he reminds me a great deal of your father when younger. Now, come. We must get you into the blue gown."
Avelyn forced a smile for her mother, but could not completely hide her misery as she said, "I have decided to wear this gown instead."
"What?" Lady Straughton stopped, her dismayed gaze traveling the length of her. "Nay! But why? The blue gown looks so lovely on you and this one is wrinkled." Her mouth firmed and she shook her head. "Nay. You must wear the blue."
Avelyn stepped back as her mother grabbed up the blue gown and approached. "It does not fit."
"Of course, it does. I saw you in it but a fortnight past. It fit beautifully. You looked lovely."
Avelyn could not keep the doubt from her expression at this claim, but merely confessed unhappily, "I had Runilda take it in and cut away the excess. I hoped to lose weight ere the wedding but-"
"Oh, Avelyn!" Lady Straughton let her hands drop, the precious gown now dangling from her fingers and pooling on the rush-covered floor. Her expression was full of disappointment.
Shame washing over her, Avelyn started to turn away, but her mother would not let her. Catching her arm, she drew her back and pulled her into a warm embrace. Her words were a heartbroken whisper when she said, "Oh Avelyn, how I wish you would not fret so over your shape. You are beautiful just as you are. Why do you suffer so over it?"
"Because I am a great cow, mother, and would have it otherwise."
Much to Avelyn's amazement, she could have sworn her mother hissed a curse word as she released her. When she stepped back there was temper in the woman's eyes and her lips had thinned out rather cruelly. "I ought to hide Hugo, Stacius and Eustice. Honestly! I know they are behind this. Those three-" She suddenly fell silent and a struggle took place on her face, then she calmed and shook her head. "Never mind. You are no cow, Avelyn. You are pleasingly plump. Men prefer their women that way."
Avelyn snorted at that, but her mother ignored her and instead glanced from she to the blue gown, determination entering her gaze.
"You cannot wear the red. 'Tis too wrinkled." Lady Straughton's gaze dropped to the blue gown dangling from her fingers. "I have an idea. But we shall have to hurry. They are ready to head to the church and are waiting only for you. Take off the red gown," she instructed, then turned to Runilda. "Go find Gunnora. Tell her to find that length of white linen we purchased from the traveling merchant who was last around and to hurry back here with it."
"What are you thinking, mother?" Avelyn asked anxiously as she shrugged her way out of the red gown - for truly she had no idea how the woman intended to fix this problem.
"We are going to bind you," her mother announced with determination.
Avelyn's eyes widened uncertainly. "Bind me?"
"Aye. If we cannot change the gown to fit your shape, we shall change your shape to fit the gown."
"Oh dear," Avelyn breathed, not at all sure that this sounded a good idea.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Perfect Wife by Lynsay Sands Copyright © 2004 by Dorchester Publishing . 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.
loading...
loading...
loading...
Terms of Use, Copyright, and Privacy Policy
© 1997-2009 Barnesandnoble.com llc