UPDATE: Divorce Can Be Deadly; Dr. Bones and the Christmas Wish; Blue Blooded

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Hello all!

Sorry I haven’t checked in since late July. I’ve been writing! My eyes are doing better in the sense I’ve been able to tolerate longer and longer periods at the computer. Here’s an update:

Divorce Can Be Deadly (Dr. Benjamin Bones Mysteries #2): I’m very pleased by how this one is coming along, and I hope when it arrives, you’ll agree it was worth the wait. I’m close to finishing it up–after which comes the rewrite, the editing, the proofing, and publishing.

Dr. Bones and the Christmas Wish: I’m almost done with this one. It’s a novella set right after DCBD, and will be included in a Christmas-themed anthology called Romancing Christmas 2. Watch this space for publishing news on that book, which may introduce you to some new favorite authors. And yes, the anthology is about romance, so draw your own conclusions on that score.

Blue Blooded (Lord & Lady Hetheridge Mysteries #5): Yesterday, I glanced at my phone and saw a wonderfully prescient message. It was from a reader who said she needed more Hetheridges, and was waiting patiently. I usually answer all queries first thing the next morning, but I couldn’t find it today–not on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or my email. (LOL, I am over-connected, like most of us.) However, I was amazed to see that message at that moment, because during the long drive back from my hairdresser*, the opening paragraphs of Blue Blooded came to me. That’s a sure sign my work on DCBD is coming to a close.

So for that reader–sorry I can’t locate your message–and anyone else who may be interested, here’s what my first draft of those opening paragraphs looks like. Not fine-tuned, not edited, but right out of my word processor, to show you Dr. Bones will soon return and the Hetheridges will be next up to bat.

Anthony Hetheridge, ninth baron of Wellegrave and former chief superintendent for New Scotland Yard, welcomed the spring. In January, he’d been forced out of his distinguished career by old enemies who’d long been sharpening their knives. In February, he’d returned to the Yard as a consultant, allowing him to do things heretofore only dreamt of; namely, billing by the hour, ignoring internal politics, and going home each day at five o’clock. In March, as daffodils sprang up all over London and pink camellia trees spilled over wrought iron fences, Tony completed the byzantine obstacle course necessary to receive his private investigator’s license. Now it was April— unusually sunny, unseasonably warm, and full of surprises.

On April fifth, his brother-in-law, Ritchie Wakefield, had modified the shape of a Lego brick by heating it with a cigarette lighter. In the process, he’d set alight a two-hundred-year-old French mahogany sofa. This had caught the nearby Italian silk brocade curtains on fire, which went up like tissue paper. Half of Tony’s ancestral London townhouse, Wellegrave House, had been burned out. Thankfully, no one was injured. As his wife Kate raged, his assistant Mrs. Snell tutted, and his manservant Harvey wept, Tony decided that he, too, would abandon British reserve and vent his true feelings on the matter: he chucked what survived and hired an interior designer to chase away the ghosts of Hetheridges past.

No more living in a museum, he thought, smiling as he passed from kitchen to stairs, a cup of tea in hand. Things are quiet at the Yard. Now all I need is a case.

*Redhead by choice

 

 

Black & Blue Snippet, or: Bhar’s in Trouble Again

Just dropping in with a brief post, mostly to assure you I’m still alive during this most wonderful time of the year. Here’s a little taste of what Bhar’s going through in Black & Blue (Lord & Lady Hetheridge #4):

Surging into the crime scene, Sharada made for Hetheridge, which amounted to throwing herself at Botwright’s corpse. With a groan of frustration, a uniformed PC shot after her. The man surely intended only to preserve the peace, not to mention the evidence, but when he caught her by the shoulders, Sharada shrieked. The cry, high-pitched and loud as a little girl’s, practically shook the chandeliers. And that summoned her son, Kate and Hetheridge’s colleague, who darted in, laid hands on the PC, spun him around and bellowed, “Don’t you ever touch my mum!”

Stop.” Hetheridge’s tone was so commanding, everyone froze. Detective Sergeant Deepal “Paul” Bhar ceased in mid-grapple. Releasing Sharada, the PC stood rooted to the spot as if afraid to breathe. Sharada looked wounded to her very core. She was dressed in her usual manner: long skirt, knit sweater, a gold ring on every finger. Behind her overlarge spectacles, equally overlarge eyes looked as hurt and pleading as a greeting card puppy’s. Bhar had warned Kate that his mum could appear heartrendingly helpless when the moment suited her. He claimed it was an evolutionary adaptation that tricked competing organisms into fatally underestimating her.

As for Bhar himself, he was still in his office attire—charcoal Prada suit, Gucci shoes, pink Ferragamo tie and enough Acqui di Parma to announce his coming around corners. He cut a dashing figure these days, or would, except for his tendency to charge headfirst into regrettable situations. At present, Bhar’s comically arrested look of horror suggested he’d leapt to his mum’s defense so instinctively, he’d had no idea his guv was on the premises, much less bearing witness to it all.

“Release that man.” Hetheridge’s tone was so cool, Kate ached for Bhar.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Sorry, mate,” Bhar babbled. He took his hands off the poor PC. Then, ludicrously, he began patting the officer’s shoulders as if attempting to manually restore his personal space, making the PC flinch all over again. “I didn’t  mean to—”

“Get out.”

“Guv.” Bhar stopped patting. Now he looked almost as stricken as Sharada. “I know I’m completely out of bounds, But this is madness. They’ve arrested Buck. You know—Mum’s friend. Er, boyfriend. He rang her and she rang me and I—”

“Detective Sergeant. Forgive me for not being clear a moment ago.” Hetheridge stepped as close to Bhar as the dead man between them allowed. “Speak not another word. Touch not another object. Get out, now. And be in front of my desk at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow morning.”

© Emma Jameson, Lyonnesse Books 2014

 

 

A New Book at Last!

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Hi, all! I promised myself I wouldn’t return to this blog until I had a new full-length novel to offer. Well, here it is! It’s live on Amazon and BN (Nook) and should appear in the Apple Store and at Kobo very soon. Here’s what it’s about.

Murder in Haunted Cornwall

On the eve of World War II, Dr. Benjamin Bones is at war with himself. While most young men are being sent away to fight the Germans, Ben is chosen to serve on English soil. Ordered to move to wild, beautiful Cornwall, he must trade his posh London office and stylish city life for the tiny village of Birdswing, population 1,221 souls. But leaving his home and shelving his career ambitions aren’t the only sacrifices facing Ben. His unfaithful wife, Penny, is accompanying him to Cornwall in a last-ditch effort to save their marriage. But moments after their arrival, Penny is run down in the street, and Ben is almost fatally injured. And while the villagers assume Penny’s death to be an accident, Ben quickly deduces it was murder.

As he convalesces in Fenton House, which the locals call haunted, Ben meets Birdswing’s eccentric inhabitants. Mr. Gaston, the volunteer air warden, obsessed with defending his remote village against Nazi spies; Mrs. Cobblepot, a thoroughly practical housekeeper who believes in fairies; and Lady Juliet Linton, a prickly, headstrong aristocrat who won’t take no for an answer. While adapting to life during Britain’s “War at Home,” a time of ration books, victory gardens, bomb shelters, and the Blackout, Ben sets about solving the mystery of Penny’s murder—with a little help from Lady Juliet and the Fenton House ghost.

MARRIAGE CAN BE MURDER (Dr. Benjamin Bones Mysteries #1) is the new cozy mystery series from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Emma Jameson.

I do hope while you await Hetheridge #4, you’ll give this one a try. Cheers!