“How fast can you get home?”

I hate phone calls that start like that. I was driving my father back to my brother’s after he spent the weekend at my house. Sassy, whom I often refer to as “The Informer”, had called me about five minutes prior. Her story didn’t make sense – as they so often don’t – and I cut her off.

“Did Daddy tell you to call me or did you take it upon yourself to it?”

She made annoyed huffing sounds – something else I’m entirely used to – and hung up. I wasn’t too worried. However, when my phone rang again just a few minutes later, it was My Honey’s number, and my interest ratcheted up a bit.

“How fast can you get home?” he asked.

“Stitches?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

My brother lives way out on the edge of town and I live pretty much in the middle of it. I got home in record time.

I found my family all laying on my bed watching TV. There was a definite hole in my boy’s knee. It sorta gaped and you could see a good portion of meat in there. Ick, right?

So off to the Children’s Emergency room at the hospital down the street from us. The same hospital Sassy had her chin stitched up when she was almost 3. The Bandit was NOT excited about going. At all. He also wasn’t impressed with my fascination with the oozing and nifty gaping quality.

They got us right into a room and a nurse came along super quick and got him dosed up with lidocaine. We determined that he had on underwear which is a victory in and of itself. There was no ruling on the cleanliness of said underwear as prescribed by every mother when visiting the hospital, but we took the small victory. While we waited we passed the time playing cards. For some reason, My Honey thought it would be a great idea to teach the kids poker. So we played Five Card Stud with Winnie the Pooh mini cards Sassy had in her purse. That seems wrong, right? I told the kids what hands to play and pretty soon Daddy was down $7. This does not bode well for our trip to Laughlin next month.

When the doctor came in with the suture kit, the boy grew anxious. Understandable since he’d never been in this position before. His father and I assured him that chicks dig scars, but 8-year old boys are very shortsighted where this is concerned. He and I tried to concentrate on an iPad while the actual stitching was happening, but still there was flinching. Actually, he did pretty well, all things considered – no crying or serious fit throwing. Victory.

The things I do for blog topics.

Ava and I have decided that no matter what, we’re never going to be happy.

On one side, we complain nearly non-stop about the lack of customer service these days. We despise how no one seems to care whether you use their services or not. The clerks are all surly and the managers don’t give a damn.

Today we went to a national craft store to return some shadow box picture frames. One of them was sans packaging as Ava had already tried to stuff her shadowy things inside it and they wouldn’t fit. We anticipated trouble. We’re getting very good with trouble. In fact, our attitude has arrived to the point where we sorta relish the confrontation.

That wasn’t happening.

We didn’t even know what to do with ourselves when we received three apologies from three separate people. Absurdly, we found their obsequiousness annoying. I actually had to walk away and let Ava deal with them.

“Oh, ma’am. We’re so very, very sorry this didn’t work out.” The manager said while the original clerk was licking Ava’s shoes. “We dearly hope you will continue to patronize our store.”

Why? Was there a flogging that was going to come with the refund? The whole thing was so over the top. It was nauseating. We really just wanted them to sneer at us and throw money in our direction.

Are we really that bitchy? Sadly, I feel that we are.

Once again, it’s like he’s spying on the Bright house.

My Honey and I have been in a battle of wills with the publishers of the Picayune. We didn’t pay the last subscription renewal because we were waiting for them to call up and offer a cheaper rate. According to My Honey that’s what he usually does. Like playing poker with the billing department, he just waits – they’ll come up with a better offer. He assured me it goes like this.

The first letter comes: Dear Sir. We see that you haven’t renewed. Please send in your $36.00.

Next comes: Dear Sir, We see that you haven’t renewed. We miss you. Please send in $24.00.

Followed by: Dear Sir. Our lives are meaningless without you. Please send in $12.00.

So we waited. Nothing happened. The first round of play never occurred. I was certain we’d lost. I figured the Picayune didn’t need us anymore. I was forced to go to the local convenience store on Sundays with the rest of the rabble to buy my copy of the Sunday paper. It was so inconvenient to have to get dressed and everything. Besides, I’m certain my neighbors missed the sight of me in my jammies on Sunday morning, tromping out into the yard with my bare feet, hissing at the sun like a vampire.

I suggested we contact the paper and cave in. Pay them whatever they want, I begged. I really missed the comics. Besides, I so enjoyed reading the paper at work with the rest of the girls. I would regale them with Dear Abby in different voices. My Honey wouldn’t let me contact the paper. Wait, he intoned. Be patient, he said while my fingers hesitated over the send button on my phone.

I fidgeted. I squirmed. I gnashed my teeth with anxiety.

Then I collected the mail on Saturday and I danced a jig at the mailbox. The newspaper publisher offered me their metaphorical throat, jugular exposed, and I went in for the kill.

$2.24 a week GUARANTEED until 2017.

I paid for six months in advance. If the Picayune goes out of business the guilt can be placed at my feet. I will accept blame.

Wall Street Journal – are you paying attention?

Ava’s gonna have a fit that I’m putting this picture on the internet for all the world to see – or at least the 7 people who routinely read

our blog.

We told you all about the ball gowns that Ava made for herself and Mom made for me. They turned out superb and everyone loved them. We wore them to the Beau Monde ball and to my book signing. We figured how often do we get to wear those things for God’s sake?

Anyway, they were scratchy and hot and absolutely gorgeous.

We would like you to note just how well we take to acting regal.

We specifically asked our friend Tara who took this picture to make us look taller and thinner. She was practically laying on the floor of the hotel to get this angle. I suggested she go down to the next floor and try the angle from there.

One thing that’s disappointing from this picture is that you can’t see how many sparkles are on these dresses.

SPARKLES!

As the name implies, we’re a group of readers and authors who love both history and romance, especially when they’re combined in a delightful story. If you feel the same, you’re welcome to join us on our Facebook page and converse with us about historical romance fiction.

Below you’ll find authors of historical romances set in a wide variety of time periods. Perhaps by participating in our Grand Tour you’ll discover some new authors for your future reading pleasure. Hop around to your heart’s content, feel free to comment on the posts, hunt for answers to the authors’ questions, and perhaps you’ll be one of our 25 lucky prize winners (see contest details below)…although you’re already a winner if you find a new story to read, do you not agree?

The theme for this tour is Courting Rituals, and for my post, I’ve chosen to talk about hunting, specifically beagling.

The Beginning of a Long Career

I imagine my handsome young man knows that our lovely young lady loves animals – much like the Quill Sisters do – and has invited her to go beagling. Our heroine is delighted at the prospect of joining her latest crush and a group of friends, cavorting with a pack of beagles and flitting about in the frothy morning air. Sadly, she is disappointed to learn that beagling involves hunting for hares (gasp). Fuzzy bunnies. Sweet little rabbits. It’s not even done with the assistance of horses. Nevertheless, she has a husband to catch and she’ll be with her friends, so she dons several layers of warm outerwear and some sturdy boots, and off she and her group heads into the woods.

Beagling has a long history in Great Britain and was even a favorite pastime of Elizabeth 1. Eventually the trend lead more toward the excitement of fox hunting and the hobby of beagling evolved into primarily a woman’s and old man’s sport. The dogs used in beagling are not the breed we know as a beagle now. Rather they were any pack of small hounds used for hunting.

Sadly, our miss finds the whole event rather less to her liking. It’s cold in the morning and tramping around in the brush is not where she wants to be. Not even the warm tea the servants prepared to warm the ladies serves to pick up her spirits. Until a soft brown blur races by her and hides in the undergrowth. Pushing aside the twigs and leaves, the lady discovers a tiny terrified rabbit. A baby, really, who is too afraid to move even as she extends her hand and gathers the wee, shivering creature to her. His ear twitches and a small leg kicks out as he snuggles up next to her. No one notices the movement inside her pelisse and our lady secrets the animal home.

The gallant young hero escorts the lady home and asks to call on her again. A brief curtsey and a shy smile give the man hope and he clasps her gloved hand in his. Perhaps she would accompany him on a fox hunt next time since she did express a desire for a mounted hunt? The lady considers – she considers the possibility of other frightened animals, these red-hued with perky, pointed ears and sharp, little faces.

Perhaps she should take a basket with her?

“I should like that very much, sir.”

The prize I am offering is an ebook or print copy (in the United States) of my book Miss Goldsleigh’s Secret and this is how you qualify for a chance to win:

Here’s my question for the scavenger hunt: What is the color of the bunny our heroine rescues?

Click on the History Lovers Grand Tour page to fill in the answer, and you may continue on from there. Enjoy!

When Henry Cavendish, Marquess of Dalton, leapt to catch the fainting woman before she hit the cobblestone, he never thought that one chivalrous act would set his well ordered life on end.  His ingrained need to protect her has every bit as much to do with her enchanting beauty as it does his desire to wipe the hunted look from her startling blue eyes. He thinks he has everything in hand, but the lady has secrets that puts everything he loves at risk.

Olivia Goldsleigh just wants to live without terror, but a gunshot in the night proves things can always get worse. The beautiful and god-like Lord Dalton swears to protect her, to make the danger go away. She wants the man, the life, the family, the bliss he promises, but her secrets are certain to destroy them all.

AMAZON

History Lovers Grand Tour Authors

Rue Allyn • Amylynn Bright • Collette Cameron • Téa Cooper • Beverley Eikli • Susana Ellis • Aileen Fish • Debra Glass • Amy Hearst • Evangeline Holland • Piper Huguley • Eliza Knight • Kristen Koster • Cora Lee • Georgie Lee • Suzi Love • Denise Lynn • Deborah Macgillivray • Barbara Monajem • Shelly Munro • Ella Quinn • Eva Scott • Shereen Vedam • Elaine Violette

Prizes

1. Each author will offer a prize for a contest, the specifics of which is set up entirely by her. The contest will be open to all participants, regardless of geographic location. For logistical purposes, authors may substitute a digital prize (gift card, etc.) of equal value for another prize that might prove difficult to mail to a distant location.
2. The Grand Prize for the Scavenger Hunt will be awarded to the participant with the most correct answers to the authors’ scavenger hunt questions.  In case of a tie, the winner will be chosen randomly.
3. The winners will be posted on the History Lovers Grand Tour page the following week.

Scavenger Hunt

• Click on the above links to each author’s blog. The blog tour entry can be identified by the graphic in the upper right corner of the post. If it is not the top post, look for the graphic in a prominent location on the sidebar, and click on it to find the blog tour entry.
• Read the blog post and the author’s short answer question at the end. Locate the answer to the question, then click on the link to the History Lovers Grand Tour page and type in the answer next to the author’s name. Be sure to fill in the your name and email address!
• You may go back to same page and read more of the author’s post (excerpt, etc.) or you may click on another author’s name on the answer sheet and repeat the process.
• When you are finished, check to make sure the spaces for your name and email address are filled in correctly, and submit your answer sheet to the tour coordinator. If you submit an incomplete answer sheet, you may come back later and make another submission with the remaining answers when you have more time.
• Any questions about the scavenger hunt should be directed to the tour coordinator .

Do not be alarmed! We are alive and well in Atlanta – just totally exhausted, hopped up on sugar and overloaded. Today we had dessert 3 separate times. Of course we did.  By the time 10pm rolled around and we were still hungry, we decided some fried food would tamp down the sugar. Enter mozzarella sticks and onion rings in the bar.

We’re positive we are still alive because people keep recognizing Amylynn. Well not HER but her name.

“Are you AMYLYNN BRIGHT?” more than one person has said while looking at her name badge.

“Ummmmmmm,” Amylynn responds, bewildered, and wondering if this new, seemingly lovely lady is really an undercover FBI agent who stumbled upon this blog and is concerned about any number of animals being stolen and illegally domesticated.

“I loved your books,” she’ll say.

Or, “I follow your blog,” she’ll tell us.

Then we’re totally confused because we’re pretty sure only Mom and Aunt Debby read this blog with any regularity.

One absolutely charming lady at lunch recognized her and asked for the full story of the TSA/Delta debacle.

Then she asked for Amylynn’s picture. NO ONE who knows Amylynn will ever believe that she willingly sat for a quick picture and smiled nicely – not a grimace or a snarl – but a smile, but she did. Really.

We arrived in Atlanta for the Romance Writers of America convention. Honest to Zeus, it’s a freaking miracle.

We arrived at our local airport with lots of time, which was a good thing because we were held up in security for over an hour. AN HOUR! We were within a hairs breath of missing our plane. When the Delta woman – who was a total bitch, we’d like to add – told us she wasn’t holding the plane for us after she and the TSA people caused the whole problem, suffice it to say things went down hill from there. We arrived in Atlanta after they pulled half our luggage off the plane, and we didn’t get to come with the swag we spent hours and a small fortune and possible tendinitis assembling. It’s outrageous and the people from Delta are going to hear from us, you can be assured. Possibly from our lawyer. The whole debacle would have been almost funny if I wasn’t so near strangling someone during the actual event. Every single person in that airport who possessed a necktie was gathered around, discussing our situation, and frowning. The people who work for TSA and Delta Airlines have absolutely no sense of humor, and we weren’t being particularly funny.

You know who’s funny? John Mulaney who also hates Delta airlines. Check it out.

Then we got to Atlanta and the Marriott screwed up our reservations.

When we finally got an acceptable room, I nearly knocked myself unconscious mistaking a cabinet door for a drawer. I’m certain I’ll have a mark on my forehead in the morning.

We do think there is a time warp or a worm hole or something in the Atlanta airport. If anyone else has experienced this phenomenon please let us know. We’ve never experienced baggage arrived so quickly to a carousal. It was flat out weird.