Love Bytes at Piatkus

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noreply@blogger.com (Donna) — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 16:56:00 +0000

To catch up on all the latest news about our books and authors, please visit our new and improved website!

You'll find information here on all our books and often our wonderful authors drop and a write a piece for us!

And to get regular updates about our books, don't forget to sign up for our monthly fiction newsletter here!

Here are some exciting tasters for you! >>>>

Read a festive short story by Nora Roberts.

Nick Brownlee tells us why he chose Kenya as the setting for his thrilling debut novel Bait.

Find out how Keri Arthur's Ripple Creek and Nikki and Michael series inspired her exciting Riley Jenson series. (Check out the gorgeous new cover style for the Riley Jenson series here.)

Julia Quinn gives us ten reasons why you should read one of her novels (actually, we've supplied the 10th reason)!

Watch the movie trailer for ACHERON: the most awaited Sherrilyn Kenyon Dark-Hunter book ever!!.

Olivia Ryan discusses her new book Tales From a Wedding Day -- and the inspiration behind the 'Tales From' trilogy, in this interview.

Read an article by Christina Jones, in which she reveals how her love of Guy Fawkes Night and fireworks inspired both her novel Heaven Sent AND her wedding.

Enjoy! From all the Piatkus fiction team!

Nora Roberts movie trailer on ITV3...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 01 Oct 2007 21:06:00 +0000

I thought I'd post the ITV3 movie trailer for all those who may have missed it. I hope it works - it's my first attempt at posting a video clip on blogger...

Thanks to ITV3 who shared it with us.

Do feel free to join in the discussion about Angels Fall in the post below...

First Nora movie...ANGELS FALL..

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 01 Oct 2007 20:51:00 +0000

At long last it's here - the Nora Robert's season on ITV3. In fact I'm typing this during the ad break of the first film Angels Fall. Very exciting!!!

So did you watch? Did you like it? I'd love to know what everybody thought...

And if you missed it Sony will be releasing the DVD of the movie next week. You can order it here

Next week it's Montana Sky with the divine John Corbett. (Of Sex and the City fame).

Pure Passion comes to Piatkus...

noreply@blogger.com (Donna) — Fri, 14 Sep 2007 13:37:00 +0000

We have just had some fabulous news about two of our bestselling authors, Christina Jones and MaryJanice Davidson!

We are thrilled to announce that Christina’s novel, LOVE POTIONS – a magical mix of H. E. Bates and Joanna Trollope with a spoonful of J. K. Rowling – and MaryJanice's UNDEAD AND UNWED – part of her series of romantic comedies which is best described as Bridget Jones meets Buffy – have been shortlisted for the Pure Passion Award, which is sponsored by North West Libraries, the RNA and Bertrams Books.

For this award, readers have to choose and vote for their favourite contemporary romantic novel from the last 10 years.

And, on voting, if you leave your name and contact details, you will be entered into a prize draw and may receive an invitation to a grand finale event in February 2008, at which you will have a chance to meet the winning writer (subject to their availability)!

To vote Christina, click here!

To vote for MaryJanice, click here!

PS Look out for Linda Gillard on the list, too - we're delighted to be publishing her new novel, STAR GAZING, next year!

Sneak peak at Christine Feehan's brand new Carpathian novel...(Out September 6th!)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 30 Aug 2007 09:23:00 +0000

Chapter 1 of Dark Possession

Manolito De La Cruz woke beneath the dark earth with his heart pounding, blood-red tears streaking his face and grief overwhelming him. A woman’s despairing cry echoed in his soul, tearing at him, reprimanding him, drawing him back from the edge of a great precipice. And he was starving.

Every cell in his body craved blood. The hunger raked at him with merciless claws until a red haze covered his sight and his pulse hammered with the need for immediate sustenance. Desperate, he scanned the area above his resting place for the presence of enemies and, finding none, burst through the rich layers of soil, into the air, his heart thundering in his ears, his mind screaming.

He landed in a crouch in the midst of dense shrubbery and thick vegetation, and took a slow, careful look around him. For a moment everything was wrong—monkeys shrieking, birds calling out a warning, the cough of a larger predator, even the brush of lizards through vegetation. He wasn’t supposed to be here. The rain forest. Home.

He shook his head, trying to clear his fragmented mind. The last thing he remembered clearly was stepping in front of a pregnant Carpathian woman, shielding mother and unborn child from a killer. Shea Dubrinsky, lifemate to Jacques, brother to the prince of the Carpathian people. He had been in the Carpathian Mountains, not in South America, which he now called home.

He replayed the images in his head. Shea had gone into labor at a party. Ridiculous that. How could they keep the women and children safe in the midst of such madness? Manolito had sensed danger, the enemy moving within the crowd, stalking Shea. He’d been distracted, dazzled with color and sound and emotion pouring in from every direction. How could that be? Ancient Carpathian hunters didn’t feel emotion and saw in shades of gray, white and black—yet—he distinctly recalled that Shea’s hair had been red. Bright, bright red.

Memories whirled away as pain exploded through him, doubling him over. Waves of weakness rocked him. He found himself on his hands and knees, his belly in hard knots and his insides heaving. Fire burned through his system like molten poison. Disease didn’t plague the Carpathian race. He couldn’t have become ill with a human disease. This was manufactured by an enemy.

Who did this to me? His white teeth snapped together in a show of aggression, his incisors and canines sharp and lethal as he glared fiercely around him. How had he gotten here? Kneeling in the fertile soil, he tried to sort through what he did know.

Another jolt of blinding pain lashed at his temples, blackening the edges of his vision. He covered his eyes to try to block out the shooting stars coming at him like missiles, but closing his eyes worsened the effect. “I am Manuel De La Cruz,” he murmured aloud, trying to force his brain to work . . . to remember . . . pushing the words through teeth clenched tightly together in a grimace. “I have one older and three younger brothers. They call me Manolito to tease me because my shoulders are broader and I carry more muscle so they reduce me to a boy. They would not leave me if they knew I had need of them.”

They would never have left me. Never. Not his brothers. They were loyal to one another—they had been through the long centuries together and would always remain so.

He pushed past the pain to try to uncover the truth. Why was he in the rain forest when he should have been in the Carpathian Mountains? Why had he been abandoned by his people? His brothers? He shook his head in denial, although it cost him dearly, as the pain increased, spikes seeming to stab through his skull.

He shivered as the shadows crept closer, ringing him, taking shapes. Leaves rustled and the bushes shifted, as if touched by unseen hands. Lizards darted out from under the rotting vegetation and raced away as if frightened.

Manolito pulled back and once again looked warily around him, this time scanning above and below ground, quartering the region thoroughly. There were shadows only, nothing flesh and blood to indicate an enemy close. He had to get a hold of himself and figure out what was happening before the trap was sprung—and he was certain there was a trap and he was close to being truly caught.

Throughout his time hunting the vampire, Manolito had been wounded and poisoned on many occasions, but still he’d survived because he’d always used his brain. He was cunning and shrewd and very intelligent. No vampire or mage would best him, sick or not. If he was hallucinating, he had to find a way out of the spell to protect himself.

Shadows moved in his mind, dark and evil. He looked around him at the growth of the jungle, and instead of seeing a welcoming home, he saw the same shadows moving—reaching—trying to grasp him with greedy claws. Things moved, banshees wailed, unfamiliar creatures gathered in the bushes and along the ground.

It made no sense, not for one of his kind. The night should have welcomed him—soothed him. Enfolded him in its rich blanket of peace. The night had always belonged to him—to his kind. Information should have flooded him with each breath he took into his body, but instead his mind played tricks, saw things that couldn’t be there. He could hear a dark symphony of voices calling to him, the sounds swelling in volume until his head pounded with moans and pitiful cries. Bony fingers brushed at his skin, spider legs crawled over him so that he twisted left and right, flailing his arms, slapping at his chest and back, brushing vigorously in an effort to dislodge the invisible webs that seemed to stick to his skin.

He shuddered again and forced air through his lungs. He had to be hallucinating, caught in the trap of a master vampire. If that was the case, he couldn’t call on his brothers for aid until he knew if he was bait to draw them into the web as well.

He gripped his head hard and forced his mind to calm. He would remember. He was an ancient Carpathian sent out by the former Prince Vlad to hunt the vampire. Vlad’s son, Mikhail, had, centuries since, taken over guiding their people. Manolito felt one of the pieces snap together as a bit of his memory fell into place. He had been far from his home in South America, summoned by the prince to a reunion in the Carpathian Mountains, a celebration of life as Jacques’s lifemate gave birth to a child. Yet he now appeared to be in the rain forest, a part familiar to him. Could he be dreaming? He had never dreamed before, not that he remembered. When a Carpathian male went to ground, he shut down his heart and lungs and slept as if dead. How could he dream?

Once again he risked a look at his surroundings. His stomach lurched as the brilliant colors dazzled him, hurting his head and making him sick. After centuries of seeing in black-and-white with shades of gray, now the surrounding jungle held violent color, hues of vivid greens, a riot of colored flowers spilling down tree trunks along with creeper vines. His head pounded and his eyes burned. Drops of blood leaked like tears, trailing down his face as he squinted to try to control the sensation of pitching and rolling as he viewed the rain forest.

Emotions poured in. He tasted fear, something he hadn’t known since he’d been a boy. What was going on? Manolito fought to get on top of the strange tumbling of jumbled thoughts in his mind. He pushed hard to clear away the debris and focus on what he knew of his past. He had stepped in front of an elderly human woman possessed by a mage just as she thrust a poisoned weapon at Jacques and Shea’s unborn child. He felt the shock of the entry into his flesh, the twist and rip of the serrated blade cutting through his organs and ripping open his belly. Fire burned through his insides, spreading rapidly as the poison worked its way through his system.

Blood ran in rivers and light faded quickly. He heard voices calling, chanting, felt his brothers reaching for him to try to hold him to earth. He remembered that very clearly, the sound of his brothers voices imploring him—no—commanding him to stay with them. He’d found himself in a shadowy realm, banshees wailing, shadows flickering and reaching. Skeletons. Dark spiked teeth. Talons. Spiders and cockroaches. Snakes hissing. The skeletons drawing closer and closer until . . .

He closed his mind to his surroundings, to all shared pathways, so there was no chance anyone could be feeding his own fears. It had to be hallucination brought on by the poison coating the blade of the knife. No matter that he had stopped anything from entering his brain—something malicious was already present.

Fire ringed him, crackling flames reaching greedily toward the sky and stretching like obscene tongues toward him. Out of the conflagration, women emerged, women he’d used for feeding throughout the centuries, long dead to the world now. They began to crowd around him, arms reaching, mouths open wide as they bent toward him, showing their wares through tight, clinging dresses. They smiled and beckoned, eyes wide, blood running down the sides of their necks—tempting—tempting. Hunger burned. Raged. Grew into a monster.

As he watched, they called to him seductively, moaning and writhing as if in sexual ecstasy, their hands touching themselves suggestively.

“Take me, Manolito,” one cried.

“I’m yours,” another called and reached out to him.

Hunger forced him to his feet. He could already taste the rich, hot blood, was desperate to regain his equilibrium. He needed, and they would provide. He smiled at them, his slow, seductive smile that always foreshadowed the taking of prey. As he took a step forward, he stumbled, the knots in his stomach hardening into painful lumps. He caught himself with one hand on the ground before he fell. The ground shifted, and he could see the women’s faces in the dirt and rotting leaves. The soil, black and lush, shifted until he was surrounded by the faces, the eyes staring accusingly.

“You killed me. Killed me.” The accusation was soft, but powerful, the mouths yawning wide as if in horror.

“You took my love, all that I had to offer, and you left me,” another cried.

“You owe me your soul,” a third demanded.

He drew back with a soft hiss of denial. “I never touched you, other than to feed.” But he’d made them think he had. He and his brothers allowed the women to think they’d been seduced, but they had never betrayed their lifemates. Never. That had been one of their most sacred rules. He had never touched an innocent, not to feed. The women he had used for feeding had all been easy to read, their greed for his name and power apparent. He had cultivated them carefully, encouraged their fantasies, but he had never physically touched them other than to feed.

He shook his head as the wailing grew louder, the ghostly specters more insistent, eyes narrowing with purpose. He straightened his shoulders and faced the women squarely. “I live by blood and I took what you offered. I did not kill. I did not pretend to love you. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Go away and take your accusations with you. I did not betray my honor, my family, my people or my lifemate.”

He had many sins to answer for, many dark deeds staining his soul, but not this. Not what these sensual women with their greedy mouths were accusing him of. He snarled at them, raised his head with pride and met their cold eyes straight on. His honor was intact. Many things could be said of him. They could judge him in a thousand other ways and find fault, but he had never touched an innocent. He had never allowed a woman to think he might fall in love with her. He had waited faithfully for his lifemate, even knowing the odds that he would ever find her were very small. There had been no other women despite what the world thought. And there never would be. No matter what his other faults, he would not betray his woman. Not by word, not by deed, not even by thought.

Not even when he doubted she would ever be born.

“Get away from me. You came to me wanting power and money. There was no love on your side, no real interest other than to acquire the things you wanted. I left you with memories, false though they were, in exchange for life. You were not harmed, in fact you were under my protection. I owe you nothing, least of all my soul. Nor will I allow myself to be judged by creatures such as you.”

The women screamed, the shadows lengthening, casting dark bands across their bodies, like ribbons of chains. Their arms stretched toward him, talons growing on their fingernails, smoke swirling around their writhing forms.

Manolito shook his head, adamant in his denial of wrongdoing. He was Carpathian and he needed blood to survive—it was that simple. He had followed the dictates of his prince and had protected other species. While it was true that he had killed, and that he often felt superior with his skills and intelligence, he had kept that place that was for his lifemate, the one spark of humanity alive, just in case.

He would not be judged by these women with their sly smiles and ripe bodies, offered only to capture the wealthy male, not for love, but for greed—yet grief was pushing at his emotions. Cruel, overwhelming grief, coming at him and stealing into his soul, so that he felt weary and lost and wanting the sweet oblivion of the earth.

Around him, the wailing grew louder, but the shadows began to leach form and color from the faces. Several women pushed at their clothing and murmured invitations to him. Manolito scowled at them.

“I have no need nor want of your charms.”

Feel. Feel. Touch me and you will feel again. My skin is soft. I can bring you all the way to heaven. You have only to give me your body one time and I will give you the blood you crave.

Shadows moved all around him and the women came out of the vines and leaves, burst through the earth itself and reached for him, smiling seductively. He . . . felt revulsion and bared his teeth, shaking his head. “I would never betray her.” He said it aloud. “I would rather die of slow starvation.” He said it in a low snarl, a growl of warning rumbling in his throat. Meaning it.

“That death will take centuries.” The voices weren’t so seductive now, more desperate and whining, more frantic than accusing.

“So be it. I will not betray her.”

“You have already betrayed her,” one cried. “You stole a piece of her soul. You stole it and you cannot give it back.”

He searched his broken memory. For a moment he smelled a wisp of fragrance, a scent of something clean and fresh in the midst of the decaying rot surrounding him. The taste of her was in his mouth. His heart beat strong and steady. Everything in him settled. She was real.

He took a breath, let it out, breathing away the shadows around him, yet more grief poured in. “If I have committed such a crime against her, then I will do whatever she wishes.” Had he committed so great a sin that she had left him? Was that why the unfamiliar grief turned his heart to such a heavy stone?

Around him, the faces slowly dissolved as the forms blurred even more, until they were only wailing shadows and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach eased, even as his hunger grew beyond craving.

He had a lifemate. He clung to that truth. Beautiful. Perfect. A woman born to be his mate. Born for him. His. Predatory instincts rose sharp and fast. A growl rumbled in his chest, and the ever present hunger raked deeper into his gut, clawing and biting with relentless demand. He had been without color for hundreds of years, a long emotionless time that stretched on and on until the demon had risen and he no longer had the strength or desire to fight against it. He had been so close. Kills had run together and feeding had become difficult. Each time he had sunk his teeth into living flesh, felt and heard the ebb and flow of life in veins, he had wondered if that would be the moment his soul would be lost.

Manolito shuddered as voices in his head once again grew louder, drowning out the sounds of the jungle. Little flashes of pain grew behind his eyes, burning and burning until he felt his eyes boiling. Was it the color? She, his lifemate, had restored color to him. Where was she? Had she deserted him? The questions crowded in fast and loud, mixing with the voices until he wanted to hit his head against the nearest tree trunk. The inside of his brain seemed on fire, as did every organ in his body.

Vampire blood? It burned like acid. He knew because he’d hunted and killed hundreds, or perhaps thousands. Some had been friends in his younger years, and he could hear them now, screaming in his head. Chained. Burned. Eaten by endless despair. His heart nearly burst in his chest, and he sank down into the fertile soil where he’d lain, trying to sort out what was real and what was hallucination. When he closed his eyes, he was in a pit, shadows surrounded him, and red eyes stared hungrily.

Perhaps it was all an illusion. Everything. Where he was. The vivid colors. The shadows. Perhaps his wish for a lifemate was so strong he had created one in his mind. Or worse—a vampire had created one for him.

Manolito. You have risen early. You were to remain in the ground a few more weeks. Gregori said to make certain you did not rise too soon.

Manolito’s eyes flew open and he looked warily around him. The voice held the same timbre as that of his youngest brother, Riordan, but it was distorted and slow, each word drawn out so that the voice, instead of resonating with familiarity, seemed demonic. Manolito shook his head and tried to rise. His body, usually graceful and powerful, felt awkward and foreign as he fell back to his knees, too weak to stand. His gut knotted and rolled. The burning spread through his system.

Riordan. I do not know what is happening to me. He used the path shared only by him and his youngest brother. He was careful to keep his energy from spilling from that path. If this was an elaborate trap, he would not draw Riordan into it. He loved his brother too much for that.
The thought made his heart go still.

Love.

He felt love for his brothers. Overwhelming. Real. So intense it took his breath away, as if the emotion had been gathering throughout the long centuries, building in strength behind a solid barrier where he couldn’t access it. There was only one person in the world who could restore emotions to him. The one he’d waited centuries for.

His lifemate.

He pressed his hand tightly to his chest. There could be no doubt she was real. The ability to see color, to feel emotion: all the senses he’d lost in the first two hundred years of his life had been restored. Because of her.

So why couldn’t he remember the most important woman of his life? Why couldn’t he picture her? And why were they apart? Where was she?

You must go back to ground, Manolito. You cannot rise. You have journeyed long from the tree of souls. Your journey is not yet complete. You must give yourself more time.

Manolito withdrew immediately from his brother’s touch. It was the right path. The voice would be the same if it wasn’t playing in slow motion. But the words—the explanation was all wrong. It had to be. You couldn’t go to the tree of souls unless you were dead. He wasn’t dead. His heart was hammering loud—too loud. The pain in his body was real. He had been poisoned. He knew it was still burning through his system. And how could that be if he’d been healed properly? Gregori was the greatest healer the Carpathian people had ever known. He would not have allowed poison to remain in Manolito’s body, no matter what the risk to himself.

Manolito pulled his shirt from his body and stared down at the scars on his chest. Carpathians rarely scarred. The wound was over his heart, a jagged, ugly scar that spoke volumes. A killing blow.

Could it be true? Had he died and been drawn back into the world of the living? He’d never heard of such a feat. Rumors abounded of course, but he hadn’t known it was truly possible. And what of his lifemate? She would have journeyed with him. Panic edged his confusion. Grief pressed him hard.

Manolito.

Riordan’s voice was demanding in his head, but was still distorted and slow. Manolito jerked his head up, his body shaking. The shadows moved again, sliding through the trees and shrubs. Every muscle in his body tensed and knotted. What now? This time he felt the danger as forms began to take shape in a ring around him. Dozens of them, hundreds, thousands even, so there was no possibility of escape. Red eyes blazed at him with hatred and malicious intent. They swayed as if their bodies were far too transparent and thin to resist the slight breeze rustling the leaves in the canopy above them. Vampires every one.

He recognized them. Some were relatively young by Carpathian standards, and some very old. Some were childhood friends and others teachers or mentors. He had killed every one of them without pity or remorse. He had done it fast, brutally and any way he could.

One pointed an accusing finger. Another hissed and spit with rage. Their eyes, sunken deep in the sockets, weren’t eyes at all, but more like glowing pools of hatred wrapped in red blood.

“You are like us. You belong with us. Join our ranks,” one called.

“Think you’re better. Look at us. You killed again and again. Like a machine, with no thought for what you left behind.”

“So sure of yourself. All the while you were killing your own brethren.”

For a moment Manolito’s heart pounded so hard in his chest he was afraid it might burst through his skin. Sorrow weighed him down. Guilt ate at him. He had killed. He hadn’t felt when he did so, hunting each vampire one by one and fighting with superior intellect and ability. Hunting and killing were necessary. What his thoughts on the subject were didn’t matter in the least. It had to be done.

He pulled himself up to his full height, forced his body to stand straight when his gut clenched and knotted. His body felt different, more leaden, clumsy even. As he shifted onto the balls of his feet, he felt the tremors start.

“You chose your fate, dead one. I was merely the instrument of justice.”

The heads were thrown back on the long, thin stick necks, and howls rent the air. Above them, birds lifted from the canopy, taking flight at the horrible cacophony of shrieks rising in volume. The sound jarred his body, making his insides turn to gel. A vampire trick, he was certain. He knew in his heart his life was over—there were too many to kill—but he would take as many with him as possible to rid the world of such dangerous and immoral creatures.

The mage must have found a way to resurrect the dead. He whispered the information in his head, needing Riordan to tell their oldest brother. Zacarias would send a warning to the prince that armies of the dead would be once again rising against them.

You are certain of this?

I have killed these in centuries long past, yet they surround me with their accusing eyes, beckoning to me as if I am one of them.

From a great distance away, Riordan gasped, and for the first time sounded like Manolito’s beloved sibling. You cannot choose to give your soul to them. We are so close, Manolito, so close. I have found my lifemate and Rafael has found his. It is only a matter of time for you. You must hold out. I am coming to you.

Manolito snarled, throwing his head back to roar with rage. Imposter. You are not my brother.

Manolito! What are you saying? Of course I am your brother. You are ill. I am coming to you with all haste. If the vampires are playing tricks on you . . .

As you are? You have made a terrible mistake, evil one. I have a lifemate. I see your filthy abominations in color. They surround me with their vile bloodstained teeth and their blackened hearts, wizened and shriveled.

You have no lifemate, Riordan said in denial. You have only dreamed of her.

You cannot trap me with such deceit. Go to your puppet master and tell him I am not so easily caught. He broke off the connection immediately and slammed closed all pathways, private and common to his mind.

Spinning around, he took in his enemy, grown into so many faces from his past he knew he was facing death. “Come then, dance with me as you have so many times,” he ordered and beckoned with his fingers.

The first line of vampires closest to him howled, spittle running down their faces and holes for eyes glowing with hatred. “Join us, brother. You are one of us.”

They swayed, feet carrying out the strange hypnotic pattern of the undead. He heard them calling to him, but the sound was more in his head than out of it. Whispers. Buzzing. Drawing a veil over his mind.

He shook his head to clear it, but the sounds persisted.

The vampires drew closer, and now he could feel the flutter of tattered clothing, torn and gray with age, brushing against his skin. Once again, the sensation of bugs crawling over his skin alarmed him. He spun around, trying to keep the enemy in his sight, and all the while
the voices grew louder, more distinctive.

“Join us. Feel. You are so hungry. Starving. We can feel your heart stuttering. You need fresh blood. Adrenaline-laced blood is the best. You can feel.”

“Join us,” they cried, the entreaty loud and swelling in volume until it was a tidal wave rolling over him.

“Fresh blood. You need to survive. Just a taste. One taste. And the fear. Let them see you. Let them feel fear and the high is like nothing you’ve ever felt.”

The temptation made hunger grow until he couldn’t think beyond the red haze in his mind.

“Look at yourself, brother, look at your face.”

He found himself on the ground, on his hands and knees, as if they’d shoved him, but he never felt the push. He stared into the shimmering pond of water stretching before him. The skin on his face was pulled tightly over his bones. His mouth was wide in protest and not only his incisors but also his canines were long and sharp in anticipation.

He heard a heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Beckoning. Calling. His mouth watered. He was desperate—so hungry there was nothing to do but hunt. He had to find prey. Had to bite into a soft, warm neck so that the hot blood would burst into his mouth, fill every cell, wash
through his organs and tissues and feed the tremendous strength and power of his kind. He could think of nothing else but the terrible swell of hunger, rising like a tide to consume him.

The heartbeat grew louder, and he slowly turned his head as a woman was pushed toward him. She looked frightened—and innocent. Her eyes were dark chocolate pools of terror. He could smell the adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream.

“Join us. Join us,” they whispered, the sound swelling to a hypnotic chant.

He needed dark, rich blood to survive. He deserved to live. What was she after all? Weak. Frightened. Could she save the human race from the monsters preying on them? Humans didn’t believe they existed. And if they knew of Manolito, they would . . .

“Kill you,” hissed one.

“Torture you,” hissed another. “Look what they’ve done to you. You’re starving. Who has helped you? Your brothers? Humans? We have brought you hot blood to feed you—to keep you alive.”

“Take her, brother, join us.”

They shoved the woman forward. She cried out, stumbled and fell against Manolito. She felt warm and alive against his cold body. Her heart beat frantically, calling to him as nothing else could. The pulse in her neck jumped rapidly and he smelled her fear. He could hear her blood rushing through her veins, hot and sweet and alive, giving him life.

He couldn’t speak to reassure her; his mouth was too filled with his lengthened teeth and the need to crush his lips against the warmth of her neck. He dragged her closer still, until her much smaller body was nearly swallowed by his. Her heart took up the rhythm of his. The air burst from her lungs in terrified gasps.

Around him, he was aware of the vampires drawing closer, the shuffling of their feet, their cavernous mouths gaping wide in anticipation, strings of saliva dripping down while their pitiless eyes stared with wild glee. The night fell silent, only the sound of the girl struggling for air and the thundering of her heart filling the air. His head bent closer, lured by the scent of blood.

He was starving. Without blood he would be unable to defend himself. He needed this. He deserved it. He had spent centuries defending humans—humans who despised what he was, humans who feared his kind . . .

Manolito closed his eyes and blocked out the sound of that sweet, tempting heartbeat. The whispers were in his head. In his head. He swung around, shoving the girl behind him. “I will not! She is an innocent and will not be used in this manner.” Because he was too far gone and might not stop. He would have to fight them all, but he might be able to save her yet.

From behind him, the woman wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her lush, woman’s body tightly against his, her hands sliding down his chest, his belly, lower still until she was stroking him, adding lust to hunger. “Not so innocent, Manolito. I’m yours, body and soul. I’m yours. You have only to taste me. I can make it all go away.”

Manolito snarled, whirling around, shoving the woman from his body. “Go! Go with your friends and stay away from me.”

She laughed and writhed, touching herself. “You need me.”

“I need my lifemate. She will come to me and she will take care of my needs.”

Her face changed, the laughter fading, and she yanked at her hair in frustration. “You cannot escape this place. You are one of us. You betrayed her and you deserve to stay here.”

He didn’t know—didn’t remember. But all the temptation in the world would not make him change his mind. If he was to stay alive without food for centuries, enduring the torment of it, so be it, but he would not betray his lifemate. “You would have done better to tempt me to betray another,” he said. “Only she can judge me unworthy. So it is written in our laws. Only my lifemate can condemn me.”

He must have done something terrible. It was the second accusation of its kind, and the fact that she wasn’t fighting at his side spoke volumes. He couldn’t call her to him, because he remembered very little—certainly not a sin he had committed against her. He remembered her voice, soft and melodious, like an angel singing from the heavens—only she was saying she would have no part of a Carpathian male.

His heart jumped. Had she refused his claim? Had he bound her to him without her consent? It was accepted in his society, a protection for the male when a female was reluctant. That was not a betrayal. What could he have done? He would never have touched another woman. He would have protected her as he had Jacques’s lifemate, with his life and beyond if possible.

He was in a place of judgment, and so far he didn’t seem to be faring very well, and maybe that was because he wasn’t remembering. He lifted his head and showed his teeth to hundreds, maybe thousands, of Carpathian males who had chosen to give up their souls, decimated their own species, ruining a society and a way of life for the rush of feeling rather than holding on to honor—rather than holding on to the hope of a lifemate.

“I refuse your judgment. I will never belong with you. I may have stained my soul, perhaps beyond redemption, but I would never willingly give it up or trade my honor as you did. I may be all the things you have said, but I will face my lifemate, not you, and let her decide whether my sins can be forgiven.”

The vampires hissed, bony fingers pointing accusingly, but they didn’t attack him. It made no sense—with their superior numbers they could easily destroy him—yet their forms grew less solid and seemed to waver, so it was difficult to distinguish between the undead and the shadows within the darkness of the rain forest.

The back of his neck tingled and he spun around. The vampires receded deeper into the bushes, the big leafy plants seemingly swallowing them. His stomach burned and his body cried out for food, but he was more confused than ever. The vampires had him trapped. Danger surrounded him. He could feel it in the very stillness. All rustle of life ceased around him. There was no flutter of wings, no scurry of movement. He lifted his head and scented the air. It was still, absolutely still, and yet there was . . .

Instinct, more than actual sound, alerted him and Manolito spun around, still on his knees, hands going up just as the large jaguar sprung at him.

© Christine Feehan

Published by Piatkus Books, September 6th 2007 in trade paperback.

The Adultery Diet by Eva Cassady

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 29 Aug 2007 15:52:00 +0000

We couldn't resist giving you a glimpse at a wonderfully fun novel we're publishing this month.

The Adultery Diet is a witty satirical look at our weight-obsessed culture and features a poor down-trodden heroine who finds herself completely unmotivated in her desire to lose weight until an old flame makes contact....

Enjoy...

P.S. To read more log on to lovereading. (You'll have to register but they have the next chapter too...)

'Everybody asks how I did it. Women gather around me at parties, stop me in the halls at work, their eyes measuring my new body, their smiles tight with the long history of their failures. Tell me, their eyes plead. Every one of them has a shelfful of diet books at home: low-carb, no-carb, Weight Watchers and Zone, South Beach, Dial-a-Meal, and hamster diets of lettuce and seeds. They’ve done Marnie and Jane and Beto, yoga and hip-hop, Tae Bo, Buns of Steel, and the Ab Lounge. They’ve hired personal trainers, had their stomachs stapled or their lipo sucked. Now they’re angry and ashamed. They feel like failures. But even more, they feel betrayed—all the books and commercials have lied to them. And let’s face it, they have lied to themselves. They come to me for the truth.

"There’s no secret,” I tell them. “Just diet and exercise.”

But that’s a lie, too. Every diet has a secret: vanity, wounded pride, rage. Or desire.

“You have to want it,” I say, and they nod.

But the world is full of its. You need something stronger than crème brûlée, more seductive than chocolate, more powerful than hunger itself. And in the end, you learn that the it doesn’t matter. It’s the wanting that gets you to the gym in the morning, propels you past the bakery on your way to work, carries you back to the gym in the evening for the unforgiving cardio with the Lycraclad gazelles from Ford and Elite. You have to hunger, not starve. You have to be driven to walk those twentyfour blocks to work, then turn left towards the stairs instead of joining the crowd at the elevators. Something has to be eating at you.

“Eva looks great,” the men say to my husband, and I see him smile. What man doesn’t want to be envied?

What man doesn’t want to get his wife back at forty-four, finding—to his surprise—a younger woman emerging from under the weight of the years like a flower growing from a snowbank? They don’t say it aloud, but their eyes say, How did she do it? Can she teach my wife? Sure, boys. But be careful what you wish for.'

From The Adultery Diet by Eva Cassady

Hot news on Nora Roberts!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 16 Aug 2007 14:48:00 +0000

Ever since we heard that four Nora Roberts novels were being made into feature length films for Lifetime television in the US, we've been waiting with baited breath to hear whether they were going to be shown in the UK.

We're delighted to reveal that ITV3 has bought the rights to all four Nora Roberts movies and will be screening them as part of their Autumn season.

The movies are:

ANGELS FALL

MONTANA SKY

CAROLINA MOON

BLUE SMOKE

We'll get you more information nearer the time but the movies will be shown one a week on Monday evenings at 9.00PM, kicking off with ANGELS FALL on Monday 1st October. DVDs of the movies will also be on sale (from Sony) shortly afterwards...

Yippee!

P.s. MONTANA SKY has John Corbett (Aiden from Sex and the City) in it! Double Yippee!!

Tales From Hen Weekends ...

noreply@blogger.com (Donna) — Wed, 11 Jul 2007 08:58:00 +0000

It seems like wedding season is in full swing at the moment – despite the inappropriate weather. Everyone I speak to is either getting married, getting engaged, heading abroad for their hen/stag weekends, going to a wedding as a guest, worried about buying gifts … the list goes on!

I got my own third wedding invite of the year last week. I must admit I also have great difficulty buying wedding presents: everybody seems to have everything they need nowadays and, if they don’t, have their own style which is always impossible to emulate! And vouchers are just soooo boring.

So I must thank British author, Olivia Ryan, for at least making my hen night presents an easy option! She’s written a hilarious debut novel, Tales From a Hen Weekend, which makes the perfect gift for any bride-to-be … and will probably make all hen nights we’ve been on seem tame and drama-free!

In Tales From a Hen Weekend, Katie Halliday's about to get married to Matt Davenport after four perfect years together. While Matt is off to Prague with the lads, Katie has arranged to spend her last days of freedom in Dublin with her mum, sister and closest friends – and she’s about to have the adventure of a lifetime …

To read an extract of the book, click here.

It would be great to hear of the wild and wacky stories you have from hen nights/weekends – your own hens or otherwise! The person with the most hilarious and outrageous story will win a free copy of Tales From a Hen Weekend!

And don’t forget to visit Olivia Ryan’s website to learn more about her!

Meet Nora Roberts...

noreply@blogger.com (Donna) — Fri, 22 Jun 2007 11:21:00 +0000

As you may have noticed, we love Nora Roberts at Piatkus!

However, many readers on this side of the Atlantic have never had an opportunity to meet Nora or hear her talk about her writing.

Luckily, Nora was gracious enough to allow us to interview her while she's been holidaying in Ireland (a place where all you Nora-readers know will always have a place in her heart).

To see this interview, please click here!

We'd be delighted to hear what you think. And let us know what your favourite Nora title is ... we'd love to hear from you!

Also, don't forget to look out for Nora's new book, High Noon, which is being published next month in July. Savannah’s top hostage negotiator, Police Lieutenant Phoebe MacNamara, found her calling at an early age when an unstable man broke into her family’s home, trapping and terrorising them for hours. But not everyone is enamoured of Phoebe’s charms. And when she’s grabbed by an unseen assailant and brutally assaulted in her own police station, Phoebe can’t help but be deeply shaken. Then threatening messages show up on her doorstep. Phoebe must discover just who this dangerous stalker is before he starts targeting her family to get to her…

To hear an exclusive interview with Nora talking about High Noon, click here: High Noon

To pre-order your copy of High Noon from Amazon, click here

To hear Nora talking about her last book, Angels Fall, click here

'The day Kevin Tucker nearly killed her, Molly Somerville swore off unrequited love forever...'

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 10:55:00 +0000

Susan Elizabeth Phillips is one of my favourite romance authors!

There's no one quite like her and when I describe her to people I always struggle with authors to compare her with. There's no one quite like Susan!

The best description I've come up with is that Susan writes romances that are most similar to the screwball comedies of the 30s and 40s but with a contemporary setting. Think Bringing Up Baby with a modern day twist! They're very, very funny!

This month we're publishing the delightful This Heart of Mine, along with two other of Susan's novels: Nobody's Baby But Mine and Heaven, Texas. Wonderful romps one and all...

This Heart of Mine also has one of my favourite opening lines to a romance novel - see above!

Do you have a favourite romantic comedy writer? If so, we'd love to know who...?

And don't forget to enter our competition and you can find out how the story above continues...

Nora Roberts on TIME magazine's list of 100 influential people!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 16 May 2007 16:34:00 +0000

We were all thrilled to see our wonderful author Nora Roberts on Time Magazine's list of the top 100 influential people in the US: 'men and women whose power, talent or moral example is transforming the world.'

You can read the whole article by following the below link. (It also includes a cute caricature of Nora herself!)

Nora Roberts in Time Magazine

Britain sizzles...

noreply@blogger.com (Donna) — Tue, 01 May 2007 14:49:00 +0000

The last few weeks have seen a rise in England’s temperature and a flocking of the nation (me included!) outdoors to soak up the rays. It’s amazing how a little sunshine can lift spirits, especially as it means we’re no longer confined to spend our weeknights and weekends indoors by the fire with warm sunshine being but a mere memory!

Parks are once again filling with people playing sport, children playing games, couples strolling hand in hand – people moving their fun into the sun. For me, this time of year means grabbing a blanket and a few great escapist reads and heading to the park to do some quality reading … and quality sunbathing!

One book that will definitely be coming along with me this month is Lover Revealed by J.R. Ward – a book with content that will easily rival the soaring heat!

Fourth in the dark and deliciously erotic – and utterly addictive – Black Dagger Brotherhood series which follows six vampire warriors who are defenders of their race against New York State's deadly slayers, Lover Revealed promises to be as gripping as its predecessors, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth in. J.R. Ward really understands the paranormal genre and what readers are looking for: tautly written, gripping action, strong characters and mesmerising sensually erotic romance…what more can a girl ask for? I really can’t get enough of this series at the moment!

We’re offering readers the chance to get in on the action via our competition on the blog – the first 5 people to enter will find a copy of Lover Revealed whizzing its way to them very soon!

Fun and photos from the London BookFair....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 18 Apr 2007 10:08:00 +0000

This year we were determined to have some fun at the London Bookfair and on Monday had two of our lovely staff members (thank you Becky and Julia!) dress up in Regency costume to give away reading copies of SCANDAL'S BRIDE by Stephanie Laurens. They both looked beautiful and here are a few photographs of them in all their Regency glory.

Tuesday was the turn of cover model Lucy Clarkson - who graces our Keri Arthur covers with her glamorous presence...Though I suspect the crowd she was attracting (mostly male!!) wasn't quite Keri's reading demographic...Though our equally glamorous UK sales director, Diane Hill, (no photos, I'm afraid!) was responsible for giving away many of our reading copies of FULL MOON RISING . (And, as she pointed out, she didn't even need a basque to help her!)

Happy reading!

Gillian

Half werewolf, half vampire, completely addictive...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 12:46:00 +0000

This month sees the launch of our first urban fantasy author at Piatkus - Keri Arthur (as announced on the blog some time ago, in fact).

As you probably know we've been publishing paranormal romance novels for a couple of years now but this is our first venture into the dark realm of urban fantasy.

According to Wikipedia, Urban Fantasy: '...is a subset of contemporary fantasy, consisting of magical novels and stories set in contemporary, real-world, urban settings -- as opposed to "traditional" fantasy set in wholly imaginary landscapes, even ones containing imaginary cities, or having most of their action take place in them. The modern urban fantasy protagonist faces extraordinary circumstances as plots unfold in either open (where magic or paranormal events are commonly accepted to exist) or closed (where magical powers or creatures are concealed) worlds.'

So that's cleared that up then! Personally, for me Keri's books exist at a place where women's fiction and fantasy - urban or otherwise! - collide. They're set in an alternative Melbourne, very much like the real Melbourne, but peopled by werewolves and vampires, shapeshifters, and weird genetic hybrids but at their heart is Riley Jenson. Riley is a wonderfully spiky modern heroine, looking for love - and sex, she's a werewolf after all! - in all the wrong places. I've become utterly hooked on these sexy fast-paced urban fantasy novels. I think Keri Arthur will appeal to all fans of Buffy, Charlaine Harris, Laurell K Hamilton and Kelley Armstrong.

And if anyone is going to be at the London Bookfair on Tuesday, look out for a guest appearance by our 'so stunning she's probably not human' cover model Lucy Clarkson, who will be donning her Riley guise to hand out reading copies of FULL MOON RISING...(We will try and post pictures next week!)

Alternatively, we have 5 copies of FULL MOON RISING to give away via the blog...

Happy holidays!!!!!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 10:57:00 +0000

Just a quick post to wish everyone a very happy Easter break!

Happy reading!

Gillian

The art of Persuasion....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 08:00:00 +0000

'A few years before, Anne Elliot had been a very pretty girl, but her bloom had vanished early; and as even in its height, her father had found little to admire in her, (so totally different were her delicate features and mild dark eyes from his own), there could be nothing in them, now that she was faded and thin, to excite his esteem. He had never indulged much hope, he had now none, of ever reading her name in any other page of his favourite work. All equality of alliance must rest with Elizabeth, for Mary had merely connected herself with an old country family of respectability and large fortune, and had therefore given all the honour and received none: Elizabeth would, one day or other, marry suitably.' (Chapter One, Persuasion by Jane Austen)

And so ITV's Jane Austen Season comes to an end - and I think they saved the best until last! It's always been my favourite Jane Austen novel and without a doubt Rupert Penry-Jones (gratuitous shot of him above in Spooks guise!) is my favourite hero of the three new adaptations. Thought the scenery of this one was amazing - wonderfully rugged and dramatic. I thought the cast was excellent - the actress playing Anne was great, Antony Head is always good and Rupert - as mentioned -made a dashing Wentworth.

A few niggles as before - I know Mary is supposed to be an annoying character but she was a little too annoying for me - couldn't wait for whatever scene she was in to end. (There's a tendency for any actress playing one of Austen's supporting comic characters to go over the top - and she certainly did. )

Also was it me or was there rather a lot of running on Anne's part? Most Bridget Jones than Regency miss, I'd of thought. But all in all I liked it. This may even be one I buy on DVD.

What did everyone else think?

What did people think of Northanger Abbey?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 26 Mar 2007 09:32:00 +0000

I think Jane Austen purists may not have liked the liberties taken with Northanger Abbey last night. Catherine's over-active imagination in the novel spilled over into fairly erotic dreams - with a touch of S&M - which saw her emerge naked from a bath at one point!

However leaving aside the futher adventures in sexing up Jane Austen, I actually enjoyed this more than Mansfield Park. It was by no means perfect: aside from plot liberties, the ending seemed a tad rushed and the anachronisms in the dialogue were a bit grating. (A gothic novel described as 'Hot stuff!'. I think not!) That said, it was again a fun way to spend a sunday evening and Catherine seemed more like Jane Austen's creation than Fanny in last week's Mansfield Park.

One think of note, after Billie Piper's eyebrows stole the show in MP, I was a little distracted by the attempts of Isabella's bosom to escape the confines of her very pretty dress. (A colleague swears she saw a hint of nipple.) Heaving bosoms are all very well but I'm not sure Jane would approve of them being on full display!

What did everyone else think? (Of the show, not necessarily the bosoms...)

P.s. Up next is Persuasion which I must confess I have the highest hope for as it's such a strong story. Great cast too and the trailer does look very good:
http://janeausten.itv.com/#/Persuasion/Trailer/

Jane Austen with a twist?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 23 Mar 2007 09:55:00 +0000

I just noticed this story in today's Guardian newspaper:

On the back of their Jane Austen season, ITV have unveiled plans for a new drama, tentatively called Lost in Austen, which sees a 21st century heroine - undoubtably a Bridget Jones-style neurotic - swapping places with Lizzie Bennet!

I must admit as much as I like the high-concept (though it's not neccessarily a new one!)*, I'm a little wary too. I want it to be good but...

I guess we really are in the midst of Austen-fever this year, and this is the ultimate in wish-fulfillment television. Though I would say that most woman have already put themselves in Lizzie's shoes before...!! (Or at least Jennifer Ehle's!)

What do you all think? (You can read the complete story by following the link below...)

http://media.guardian.co.uk/broadcast/story/0,,2040444,00.html

P.s. Incidentally I always think Jasper FForde can't be beat for modern heroine's jumping into books. Read The Eyre Affair and other books in his extremely funny Thursday Next series.

Mansfield Park - the verdict?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 19 Mar 2007 08:25:00 +0000

Overall - I liked it!

It was a nice sunday evening t.v. programme - reasonably well-acted, pretty locations, gorgeous frocks and romantic too. As with any t.v. adaptation there were some strange ommissions (what happened to Julia Bertram? Did I miss this? And the Bertrams' feelings towards Fanny seemed rather changeable...)

I thought the actress playing Mary Crawford was excellent. Michelle Ryan was very pretty and Billie Piper did a credible job as Fanny. (The little girl playing the young Fanny in the opening scene was the spit of Billie Piper!) Though I must confess I occasionally got distracted by the fact that Fanny's hair was so blonde and yet her eyebrows so dark...Curious!) There was also a moment when Fanny was rather more chav than regency miss...On being offered the chance to see her brother's letters of commission, I swear she said a rather Cockney 'yeah!' rather than yes.

But these are nit-picks and, overall, this was fun! (And much better than the last Jane Austen adaptation I saw which was P&P with the giggling Keira Knightly ruining the character of Lizzie Bennet!)

What did everyone else think?

Northanger Abbey next sunday...A novel I've always enjoyed, not least because of the fun Austen has with Catherine and her addiction to Gothic novels...

You can view a trailer here:

http://janeausten.itv.com/#/Northanger_Abbey/Trailer/

Are your ready for MANSFIELD PARK?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 16 Mar 2007 09:41:00 +0000

'About thirty years ago Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, with all the comforts and consequences of an handsome house and large income.

It required a longer time, however, than Mrs Norris was inclined to allow, to reconcile Fanny to the novelty of Mansfield Park, and the separation from everybody she had been used to.

Fanny, with all her faults of ignorance and timidity, was fixed at Mansfield Park, and learning to transfer in its favour much of her attachment to her former home, grew up there not unhappily among her cousins.'
Mansfield Park by Jane Austen

I can't tell you how excited I am by the prospect of ITV's Jane Austen season!

First up is Mansfield Park - 9.00pm this Sunday evening on ITV. Now I have to confess Fanny is not my favourite Austen heroine - I've always felt she's a little bit too good to be true. And she is a little bit wet - not least because she always seems to be in floods of tears in the novel. Even so I can't wait for what feels like proper sunday evening entertainment.

I must also confess I'm also having to reserve judgement on Billie Piper too. I think she was great in Doctor Who. I even liked her in the BBC's reworking of the Miller's Tale but she always seems a thoroughly modern actress. Hard to picture in a nice Regency frock... Mansfield Park also features Michelle Ryan - she of Eastenders fame though most of the other cast members are unfamiliar to me - especially the men. Anyone know where we might have seen them before?

You can view the trailer here:

http://janeausten.itv.com/#/Mansfield_Park/Trailer/

Happy viewing!

Gillian from Piatkus

Making a Splash!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 01 Mar 2007 12:08:00 +0000

I love MaryJanice Davidson’s books. Her Undead series of vampire chick lit has made me laugh out loud on public transport. But I must admit I approached her new series with a little bit of trepidation.

It feels like only yesterday (in fact three years ago – yikes!) that I persuaded the powers that be to take a chance on some paranormal romance on our fiction list but having done vampires (Sherrilyn Kenyon and the divine MJD), Carpathians (Christine Feehan) werewolves (the forthcoming and very cool Keri Arthur), I wasn’t quite sure we at Piatkus were ready for mermaids!

I needn’t have feared…

As with vampires, werewolves and the other assorted creatures of the night that populate her books (I particularly love the Devil’s daughter – a Sunday school teacher with a little bit of a temper!), MJ takes the mermaid legend and makes it her own.

MJ’s mermaids are decidedly not Disney. Fred the mermaid in Sleeping With The Fishes is bad-tempered, allergic to seafood and afraid of the ocean. As with the Undead books, the mermaid novels are also wonderfully funny chick lit that just so happen to have a more unusual heroine at their heart.

They’re great fun and we’ll be publishing the first book this month with more to follow. And don’t worry they’ll be more UNDEAD books to come too.

P.s. I can’t help wondering what’s next for our paranormal menagerie…

How Austen-tacious!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 09 Feb 2007 11:44:00 +0000

As you all know, I’m a big fan of the Regency romances, and I’m sure I’m not the only one! Historical romance is enjoying a bit of an overdue renaissance at the moment, and there’s a huge Austen revival on the way too. The BBC is planning an adaptation of Sense and Sensibility, and Andrew Davies is writing the screenplay. Andrew Davies, of course, is the genius who gave us the wonderful piece of TV history that is Colin Firth in wet britches…ITV are in on the act too, and are planning no less that three Austen adaptations, Northanger Abbey, Mansfield Park and Persuasion. Then this summer, Anne Hathaway, she of The Devil Wears Prada fame, will star in a biopic of Jane Austen’s life, entitled Becoming Jane. Phew!

If you’re as keen on this genre as we are, or if you’re a contemporary chick-lit fan who would like to try something a little different, then may we present the wonderful Stephanie Laurens!

Stephanie Laurens is the author of 14 New York Times bestsellers, and Piatkus are pleased to be publishing the entire Bar Cynster series of Regency romances. The Bar Cynster is a bold and powerful group of six cousins and their extended family and friends who are determined to let nothing stand in their way when it comes to matters of the heart. Stephanie Laurens delivers witty, sophisticated stories filled with adventure, passion and enduring love.

The first title in the series is Devil's Bride, in which plucky governess Honoria Wetherby is caught in a compromising position with Devil, the most infamous member of the Cynster family. He astonishes the entire ton by offering his hand in marriage. No one had dreamed this scandalous rake would so tamely take a bride. But Honoria isn't about to bend to society's demands and marry a man just because they'd been found together unchaperoned. No. She craves adventure. But the scalding heat of her unsated desire for Devil soon has Honoria craving a very different sort of excitement…

Also available this month is the second book in the series, A Rake's Vow, and also What Price Love?, the brand new title.

We have 20 copies of Devil's Bride up for grabs - just post a comment telling us your favourite Jane Austen hero, and then drop us an email with your contact details via the 'contact us' link!

Snow!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 24 Jan 2007 16:17:00 +0000

It snowed this morning! Look!

Alright, we didn’t get snowed in, but I think even a light flurry is a good enough excuse to curl up in the duvet and read a good book whilst sipping endless mugs of hot chocolate. Not that I usually need an excuse, but still…

The more realistic picture however, was me squashed between lots of other commuters this morning, holding my book in one hand, and hanging onto the hand rail for dear life with the other, and therefore unable to turn the page. But the book that got me through all the delays this morning (due to ‘adverse weather conditions’ – at least they had and excuse today), was Mary Balogh’s Simply Unforgettable – I simply can’t get enough of these Regency romances at the moment, and this one is particularly fitting as the hero and heroine meet in a ferocious snow storm…

She is a young teacher with a secret past. He is the cool, black-caped stranger who unexpectedly comes to her rescue. Stranded together in a country inn, Lucius Marshall - the Viscount Sinclair - and Frances Allard share a night of glorious, unforgettable passion. But Frances knows her place – and it is far from the privileged world of the sensual aristocrat. Due to begin her teaching position at Miss Martin’s School in Bath, Frances must try to forget that one extraordinary night – and the man who touched her with such exquisite tenderness and abandon…

You can read it with a shiver of pleasure ;-) This is the first novel in a quartet of books by Balogh, all set in and around a select academy for young ladies. They are really worth a try, and if you like them, then there are 3 more books to come in the Simply series, and she’s also the author of the Slightly series, which follows the romantic (mis)adventures of the Bedwyn family.

Wrap up warm everybody!

Bored of Big Brother?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 16 Jan 2007 11:21:00 +0000

I hate to admit it, but I have been sneakily watching the odd bit of Celebrity Big Brother here and there. I usually turn off after a few minutes, but sometimes I just stay on the couch, fascinated. Last night, I was staggered when Big Brother asked the contestants to think of a question they had always wanted to know the answer to. Following Jade Goody’s bizarre enquiry as to why Eskimos do not turn into ‘giant ice cubes’, and whether they communicate ‘like dolphins’…the laugh out loud moment came after her boyfriend, Jack, asked why men have nipples. A perfectly valid question. Jack did have some problems with the explanation though. After being told, twice, that the human embryo has sole female characteristics for the first 6-8 weeks, Jack looked into the camera quite exasperatedly and demanded to know: ‘What’s an em-vry-o [sic]??’…that’s when I turned off.

If all that ‘reality’ is getting to you too, then a bit of romance reading is the perfect antidote! There’s a new Nora Roberts out this month, Jewels of the Sun, which is the first book in the Irish trilogy, following the romantic adventures of the Gallagher siblings. I picked it up last night and soon forgot all about the Goody clan, and was instead transported to the picturesque village of Ardmore, wrapped up in the budding romance between Jude Murray and Aidan Gallagher…and also found myself craving a pint of Guinness!

Mr Impossible by Loretta Chase, also managed to tempt me away from the small screen – if you’d like to try some Regency-set romance, then this is a great place to start. I fell head over heels for her brilliant hero, Rupert Carsington, the undisputed black sheep of his aristocratic family. He is naturally devastatingly gorgeous and dashing, and wherever he goes, trouble follows. He begins the novel stranded in the depths of Cairo's most infamous prison, and his only way out is accepting a beautiful widow's dangerous proposal…This is great fun, and very witty…and might just tear me away from Big Brother, at least for a couple of days…!

Anyone else battling an addiction to terrible telly?

Merry Christmas!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 19 Dec 2006 17:16:00 +0000

Hello,

Here's wishing you all a lovely Christmas and a wonderfully happy New Year!

All the best from the team at Piatkus - we'll be back in January 2007.