Strong, proud, honorable—Marcus Livius Tullio embodied the values of Rome. Captured on the high seas and brought to the Temple of Kybele, he was drawn to the woman who gave him refuge. Fierce, beautiful, determined—Helena despised all that Rome stood for. In sheltering Tullio, she had to subdue her awareness of him—or she might confess all! The soldier's strength and nobility tempted her to lean on him, but she knew that to succumb would be to betray her people….
Labels: cover art , The Warrior's Viking Bride. It is a typical Don Maass book -- full of seemingly useful info if only the writer is savvy enough to pick up on it, a few sly digs at the shallowness of romance writers, and a number of good examples. He mentions 'save the cat' without referencing Blake Snyder. There are also things there from Orson Scott Card's Character and viewpoint book.
I also happen to like Karl Iglesias Writing for Emotional Impact which although aimed at screenwriters has a lot to say about getting the emotion on the page and how to make the reader feel. Because ultimately a book is all about how the reader feels and how much the reader engages with the characters and uses that story as outlet for her emotions. The caveat in this is that nothing is new in writing and not every reader will get the same thing from every book. This includes books about writing.
Lynna Banning. Lady Elona. Beth St. The one which made me stop, re-read, shake my head and put the book down was: "He gave a very huge smile and Destiny at Balaclava Masquerade historical romance by Alanna Wilson. Aug 18, Sylvia rated it it was ok Shelves: first-reads.
Maass may or may not have read the books. They have been around for awhile. Some of the knowledge does from asking the hard questions -- why does this book resonate? Why do I feel for these characters? Don't get me wrong. I enjoy Maass.
I have heard him speak. He is passionate about what he does.
Cursed with the sight and rumors of witchcraft, Rosalind's only chance at an ordinary life is marriage to Lucien, Viscount Hastings. Shelley Munro, Michelle Styles, All he really wanted was to return to London and get paid for his work, but he'd better not do that until he discovered if the Viscountess Corland had been lost with most of the other passengers and crew, or if she had by some miracle survived.
Diane Gaston, This is a new release of the original edition. James Sykes, A. Gardiner, Revised edition by Sarah Hutton.
The revised edition contains some important letters not included in the first edition, plus a new introduction. Marjorie Hope Nicolson, Sarah Hutton, This collection of nearly letters between Shaw and Astor - as well as between Astor and Shaw's wife, Charlotte, and Shaw's secretary, Blanche Patch - illustrates the rewarding friendship the two shared and the numerous issues they Bernard Shaw, J.
Sydney- Smythe, This horizontal division is similar to, and perhaps the first step toward, the modern concept of sexual orientation or identity. In an egalitarian system, men who are consistently attracted to other men and choose men for their partners are classified as homosexual in orientation; men who consistently choose women are considered heterosexual.
Indeed, the older, stratified system and the emerging egalitarian one sometimes converged as they grappled with male homo sexuality. He was considered to be feminized, or partaking of both male and female identities two-spirit, etc. In the transitional eighteenth century, sexual subcultures, perhaps celebrating their freedom from the constrictions of earlier gender roles, were often characterized by effeminate behavior, cross-dressing, and the use of female nicknames by men whose occupations are conventionally masculine butcher, bargeman, blacksmith, coal merchant, etc.
As Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick has observed, this three-sex conceptual model necessarily created new suspect, boundary-crossing categories. And what, I would add, of the male bisexual? In a curious twist of history, however, it has lingered within popular culture, preserving the older, stratified model of sexuality even as the broader culture has embraced the egalitarian model. From the few reputable studies that have been conducted, there does appear to be a small but genuine subset of men that enjoys dominating both male and female partners Werner ; Dixson The aristocratic bisexual heroes of my Regency novels are precisely these sorts of men, unabashed tops in every sense of the word in a society still stratified by class and gender.
No wonder Faust was all astonishment! It is to those old-school heroes, my literary models, that I want to turn next. Only a Mr. Darcy or a Duke of Avon—an alpha male—can afford to marry purely for love, to choose a young woman of superior character without regard to her lack of fortune, land, or aristocratic connections. The setting for my two novels, the England of , is a society in transition. In novels by Daniel Defoe, Henry Fielding and Samuel Richardson, wealthy and powerful men, including titled aristocrats, landed gentry, and merchant princes, reflect the privileges of rank in their sexual practices.
From her position on the lower rungs of the gentry, Austen sets her works within her own milieu; influenced by her female contemporaries Edgeworth and Burney, she created a new kind of hero, appealing to women readers tired of being conquered. With one exception: that darkest of Austen heroes, Mr. Darcy, Heyer glamorizes and, dare I say, romanticizes the upper-class man.
Her heroes are paragons: educated and intelligent, fashionable and well-dressed, athletic and financially responsible—sound minds in exceptionally fine bodies. And however much they love the heroine, their expectations for marriage are traditionally masculine. Of course, my reading took place through a very particular set of historical and erotic lenses. Given the correlation of social class and sexuality in Mr.
Darcy, how could I not see him as potentially OK, to me, obviously a bisexual dominant? To me as both reader and author, the character of the traditional romance hero, from Pamela onward, already corresponds almost perfectly with what history and anthropology tell us about dominant male bisexuality in stratified sexual cultures.
In the dichotomy of modern terminology, it is who he is, expressed naturally and happily, by what he does. His ability to top other men, and women, is proof, in my view, of his extraordinary virility. This version of masculinity does not have to be cruel or selfish; it can be loving and generous, as it is, eventually, with both my heroes. Just as the hero in heterosexual romances often begins with a negative outlook on women, love, and marriage leaving him sexually predatory, rejecting love, and uninterested in monogamy , my bisexual heroes have been damaged by past loves, here inflicted not by women but by other men.
And, as in heterosexual romances, the transformed heroes must retain a degree of masculine pride, even dominance, the quality that made them so appealing to me in the first place. In Phyllida, envisioned as an old-school romance of the highest order, I approached this challenge through a version of that oldest of old-school plots, the marriage of convenience.
Reconciled to the new egalitarian system which has made him an outsider, he is hopeful that his wealth and social status will allow him to live as he pleases Herendeen, Phyllida 4, 31 ; to be on the safe side, however, and to do his family duty, he arranges to marry Phyllida Lewis, an impoverished young lady  who writes Gothic romances.
Phyllida accepts his offer, agreeing to ignore his sexual orientation in return for access to his wealth and social position, but also in return for his willingness to ignore her continuing work as an author, so long as she continues to publish anonymously. Andrew, meanwhile, must come to terms with the fact that he is aroused by and, in time, quite in love with his wife, even as he also pairs off, sexually and emotionally, with his male partner, Matthew Thornby, the tall, blond, muscular, financially comfortable son of a tradesman.
Abrasive as he may be to modern sensibilities, Andrew is not envisioned as a morally challenged aristocrat but simply as sexually dominant. Next, he is emotionally wounded—that old trope —by the ending of a long-distance relationship with a young officer serving overseas: a turn that is quickly followed by a Big Misunderstanding that leaves poor Andrew convinced, quite erroneously, that he has not just failed to please his wife, but struck her in anger. Aghast, abashed, he finds himself impotent at the thought that he has abused his power. He admires her talent, but is downright terrified at the thought of being married to such a brilliant writer.
Their rapprochement begins when Phyllida no longer perceives Andrew as a threat but as a wounded hero in need of healing. Instead of demanding that Phyllida submit to him in fulfillment of her wifely duty, Andrew requests that she share his bed, and only when she is ready And it is here, in his flaccid state, that Andrew experiences his first genuinely egalitarian sexual moments. With his male partner there are no such difficulties. By the end of the story, Phyllida and Andrew are evolving into genuine versatility, while Andrew continues to enjoy the dominant role with Matthew.
Both partners engage in the kind of teasing banter with Andrew that is the opposite of the obedience he expects from a wife or the deference of a working-class man. In a similar fashion, she lets Andrew continue to believe he struck her, despite the cost to their marital happiness, convinced that her silence is protecting Andrew from the threats of a blackmailer. My original creation, Phyllida , and its male protagonists, Andrew and Matthew, were shaped in part by the worldview of Georgette Heyer and her relatively benign assessment of upper-class masculine dominance.
Austen, by contrast, takes a more jaundiced view of the aristocracy, male and female, and its assumption of privilege. Elizabeth rejects Mr. Darcy as having been flawless from the beginning. But the Mr. In fact, the only major difference between my bisexual heroes and their heterosexual counterparts is one of number, not kind. Darcy could not be more jealous of a new bride than he is of [.
Similarly, the exploitative and deceptive nature of the relationship between Mr. Darcy and Wickham strikes me as one that can easily accommodate a physical sexual manifestation, and I wrote explicit scenes with both men in which Fitz displays his dominant bisexual masculinity. Are you really that stupid, Darcy?
Partly as a result, for Fitz the allure of domination is more difficult to overcome. The challenge for Fitz with Charles is to continue to play the roles he enjoys: sexual top, protector, and mentor, while accepting Charles as his equal in spirit. Just as in a democratic society everyone is supposed to be equal before the law regardless of ability or income, so Fitz must not let his own areas of genuine superiority—wealth, intellect, pedigree, size and strength—undermine the equality and reciprocity necessary to sustain a relationship of love.
Unlike Charles, Elizabeth is most certainly not submissive, and I could not imagine her exuberantly active nature melting away into passivity in the bedroom. On their wedding night, Fitz takes the dominant position at first, as he is the experienced lover. In the marriage of Fitz and Elizabeth I see a joyful combat between two dominant personalities; their only solution is to take turns. For the two men, Fitz and Charles, it is only after they have entered into heterosexual marriages that they can resume their sexual relationship on new terms—an agreed-upon, negotiated dominance. Where Fitz has been humbled by his love for his exceptional wife and mellowed by winning her affection, Charles has matured, his character strengthened by marriage to his perfect female complement, the equally sweet and submissive Jane.
But evolution cannot entirely transform fundamental nature, and these two men will always be perfectly matched as opposites, as they are similar to their wives. In writing my masculine, bisexual heroes, I had to make some concession to the realities of their time.
His Unsuitable Viscountess (Mills & Boon Historical Romance) [Michelle Styles] on enflucacda.ga *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. A lifetime of living in a. From hard-headed businesswoman A lifetime of living in a man's world has given sword-making factory owner Eleanor Blackwell some very definite opinions.
And in some ways they are already moving toward the future, as embodied by the men they desire: other cisgender men, neither pathics nor effeminate, who choose the bottom position in sex. Fitz, the more introspective—and bisexual—of the two, labors toward self-acceptance.