on October 3rd 2017
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For centuries, the volumes of a priceless Renaissance manuscript, The Duke's Book of Knowledge, have been the subject of legend and rumor. Three members of London's Bibliomania Club have promised a beloved professor they'll find the manuscripts before the professor retires. They are determined to vindicate his faith in the Duke's existence while rescuing a great literary work from obscurity. The problem? The book must be found in ten days. Matters of the heart intrude as each book hunter realizes that locating an ancient manuscript might just lead to happiness ever after.
The Viscount’s First Kiss by Carolyn Jewel, a novella from the anthology How To Find A Duke in Ten Days.
I have a T-Shirt that reads; “Introverts Unite! We’re here. We’re uncomfortable. We want to go home.”
That shirt describes me just about exactly. So, perhaps it’s not strange at all that The Viscount’s First Kiss, my contribution to How to Find a Duke, features a heroine who is an introvert with a few personality quirks.
I suspect I’m not alone among introverts in that I can extroverted for brief periods, followed by a deep need to sit alone in my room. If I don’t do that, I’ll end up in a corner, hiding in the bathroom, or unable to answer any but the most basic questions and, quite possibly, not being entirely sure what I was asked.
When my heroine turned out to be in introvert, I channeled some of my own familiar panic and dismay when I find myself getting overwhelmed in a social situation. Magdalene is a book nerd (Regency-style) and scary-competent when she’s not falling apart because she had to go to a party. Naturally, I paired her with an extrovert, but one who understands her and takes action when he sees she’s overwhelmed.
Do you consider yourself an introvert, an extrovert, or somewhere on a sliding scale? Do you have ways to cope?
Enjoy this excerpt from The Viscount’s First Kiss:
She was breathless from him being so near. What could possibly be the matter with her? He was Daunt, and she was a widow who interested no one. Most people found her peculiar. Only Angus and Daunt had ever understood her obsession with Medieval manuscripts, for they had shared it. “My lord, stand up.”
He sprang to his feet and strode to the other side of the room as if he hadn’t been on one knee to her. Which he had, but not for that reason. Handsome, vital young lords did not go on bended knee to women like her.
He threw himself on a sofa that was not long enough to contain him. She had grown used to there being three of them. Angus, herself, and him. Now, there would always be one of their number missing. He lounged on the sofa, one booted foot braced on the arm, the other on the floor, Rivett’s letter still in his hand. At ease, just like old times, thank goodness. She imagined there was a river between them, impossible to ford.
They had always been familiar and casual here at Plumwood, so his putting his foot on the sofa arm again did not in the least shock her. She did, however, take note of the shape of his thigh. Well-muscled, strong.
My God, how inappropriate.
“I’ve already replied to him that I wish to examine the books at his earliest possible convenience,” Daunt said. “Whether he has all four Dukes as he claims, we cannot know until he arrives. Can you imagine, Magdalene?”
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