INTO THE BLACK
Excerpt: Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife
“I’ll take that one.” “The green gown, Monsieur Leonadis?” “No, the model.” The man chuckled. “The model’s not for sale, monsieur.”
“You wanna bet?” Michalis Leonadis loosened his tie, lifted an arrogant eyebrow at the sales manager of the Haute Couture show in Paris, and geared up for battle...not with the manager but...with her. Tracking the model every step with his slitted gaze, he slipped a hand inside the pocket of his jacket and extracted a card, then a pen.
Julia, strutting down the runway and steaming up the ballroom in the Hôtel de Crillon had cost him a marriage, and a billion dollars in a Tokyo deal gone belly-up. As if that hadn’t been enough, his head of security informed him she’d recently given--
Applause broke out, splintering his thoughts, and spiking his fury...his passion. For revenge.
She’d ripped his heart out. Shredded his pride. Cost him.
Her untimely exit had rocked his sphere and his bank account. She nearly bankrupted him. He’d put everything on hold to search for her, and to clean up the legal mess his uncle’s amour had created when she’d charmed... er... scammed the old guy into signing half the Leonadis fortune to her and ultimately her heir. The fortune Michalis had slaved over years to amass.
He set his jaw, batted that distraction from his mind, and turned his laser sharp eyes back to the supermodel, his present dilemma.
When he found out Julia had been living it up in Paris, he’d shut her out, and scrambled to salvage his business and stay afloat— he’d waste no more time on her. He was better off without her.
A spike lodged in his aorta, but he ignored the sting.
He clamped his teeth, his breath rumbling in his chest and escaping through his nose in a hostile sound. How dare she keep that a secret from him? Cold, calculating bi—the expletive stinging his tongue was smothered by shouts of “Brava!” from the audience.
He scrawled a message on his business card, adrenaline pumping him to action.
She’d definitely pay. He curled his lip. His way.
Michalis slapped the card in the man’s hand. “Make sure she gets it.”
The man glanced at the bold insignia of the Leonadis Cruise Line on the card and inclined his head. “Oui, Monsieur Leonadis.”
Michalis tuned him out. He liked things simple. She’d been anything but.
About Shehanne Moore
When not cuddling inn signs in her beloved Scottish mountains alongside Mr Shey, Shehanne Moore writes dark and smexy historical romance, featuring bad boys who need a bad girl to sort them out. She firmly believes everyone deserves a little love, forgiveness and a second chance in life.
Shehanne caused general apoplexy when she penned her first story, The Hore House Mystery—aged seven. What didn’t she work at while pursuing her dream of becoming a published author?
Visit her hamster run blog http://shehannemoore.wordpress.com/
What hasn’t she worked at while pursuing her dream of becoming a published author? Shehanne still lives in Scotland, with her husband Mr Shey. She has two daughters. When not writing intriguing historical romance, where goals and desires of sassy, unconventional heroines and ruthless men, mean worlds collide, she plays the odd musical instrument and loves what in any other country, would not be defined, as hill-walking.
The Writer and The Rake: get it here
Yes, it’s release day for Hard to Protect and that’s very exciting (scary, too), so I’m posting a few teasers to give you a flavour of what to expect from Will Berwick and Angel Treherne.
But…but…but… Hard to Protect is but one of seven fabulous books Entangled Publishing release today. A shout out is merited for each and every new title. Just click on each image for details. ENJOY!
It's hellish hard getting heard. That's one of the harshest realities authors face. Especially with the wealth of good advice out there on how to get your book noticed, because so sound is that advice that we all follow it. Which only adds to the din above which it is damn hard to be heard. Some beat back defeat by throwing coin--terrific, if you have sufficient to spare. Some shout and rely on the echo effect--book blogs and tours, the support of fans and friends to spread the word via Facebook shares, re-tweets, reviews. Others network their arses off at events and in groups, both in person and on line. Newsletters fly out, slumbering blogs get awoken; it's easy to get overwhelmed by the tsunami of 'must dos'.
But does any of this fervent activity work? Well, it certainly does no harm--though cautions abound about doing too much shouting. And it's these helpful cautions that niggle me. Because what is 'too much'?Where's the line that should not be crossed? Does anyone really know what's right or wrong about about getting seen and heard? Nope, not with any certainty. When faced with a marketing opportunity note the marked hesitation and the shuffling retreat if you ask for absolute qualification of success. You won't get a answer, not a straight one anyway.
Disheartened? Don't be, it a cacophonic world out there and the melody is discordant for most. So screw any mistakes you might make, screw whether you got the volume of your shout right, screw your own lack of harmony. Be brave. Whether by way of a serene whisper or an open throated bellow, embrace the need to be heard rather than the 'right' way of making your sound, because when it comes to getting noticed one certainty does exist: Silence isn't golden, its suicide!
Hard to Protect, Book 3 in the Hard to... and Black Ops Heroes series, (releasing March 20th) is featured in a giveaway on Goodreads. Woot!
Might be English, the words all familiar, but can you translate this sentence so it makes sense?
"It nearly knocked me off my plates—he was wearing a syrup! So I ran up the apples, got straight on the dog to my trouble and said I couldn't believe me mincers."
No clue as to what in the hell that means? You would not be alone. It’s London Cockney Rhyming Slang. Colourful but damn near impenetrable, because rhyme and foreshortening get in on the act. Here’s how it translates:
“It nearly knocked me off my feet—he was wearing a wig! So I ran up the stairs, got straight on the phone to my wife and said I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
Plates = plates of meat = feet
Syrup = syrup of figs = wig
Apples = apple and pears = stairs
Dog = dog and bone = phone
Trouble = trouble and strife = wife
Mincers = mince pies = eyes
So, to help out those travelling to London and wishing to avoid a ‘barney’ (Barney Rubble = trouble, as in fight), I’ve provided a short list of some common rhyming slang phrases to help you out. Enjoy…
Brahms and Liszt = pissed (drunk)
Brown bread = dead
Adam and Eve = believe
Boat = Boat Race = face
Bottle and glass = arse
Bubble Bath = laugh (as in, ‘having a bubble’)
Butcher’s hook = look ( as in, ‘having a butcher’s)
Half inch = to pinch (to steal)
Gypsy’s kiss = to piss
Vera Lynn = gin
Tommy tit = shit (as in, I don’t give a Tommy tit)
Actually, these guys say it better: (Note the credits at the end please). There, now you can travel with some confidence.
Have a favourite phrase you want to share? Add to comments....
My five kids are the stuff of nightmares, their favorite game: Who would you save? It’s not pleasant. I have to decide which of them gets to live or die if, say, they were all drowning simultaneously or, thanks to The Walking Dead, which one of them I’d rescue during the zombie apocalypse.
My stock answer ‘All of you’ (damn their sibling rivalry), breaks the rules, but I don’t care, it’s a horrible game. Though it did seed the idea for my third book Hard to Protect, releasing March 13th via Entangled Publishing, the research leading me an anxious dance through the subject of hysterical/superhuman strength, berserkers and the phrase ‘going postal’.
Anxious dance, because here are just three of the weird and wonderful facts I uncovered:
In 2006, Lydia Angiyou, a slight woman saved several children, including her young son, by wrestling an eight-foot, 700lb polar bear. A mother’s love, or adrenalin? Who knows, who cares—it ended well for Lydia and the children, but not so well for the bear (about which I am sorry—tranquillizer guns before rifles might be the way forward in this gun toting world of ours).
Hard Men the Hard Way