Interview with Lydia Dare & A Certain Wolfish Charm Giveaway

Today we have an interview with the writing duo known as Lydia Dare

and a giveaway of 2 copies of A Certain Wolfish Charm.

Welcome Lydia. Thank you for joining us today at Fang-tastic Books.

Thank you so much for having us! I did say us. There are two of us that make up the team that is Lydia Dare—Jodie and Tammy. Though we often finish each other’s sentences, we’ll try to make it clear which one of us is talking.

Let’s start out with getting to know you, tell us a little about yourself and your writing career. How long have you been a writer?

Lydia/Jodie – I have been writing as long as I can remember. I started out screenwriting, but found my calling in writing novels. Tammy and I have been writing together for about a year and a half.

Lydia/Tammy – I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing.

Is A Certain Wolfish Charm your first book?

Lydia/Jodie and Tammy – Yes, this is our first book together.

So your upcoming books feature 3 brothers, all werewolves, can you tell us a little about the books?

Lydia/Jodie – A Certain Wolfish Charm is the story of Simon Westfield, the Duke of Blackmoor, and the woman who is his match in every way, Lily Rutledge. They are brought together when Lily notices her nephew (Simon’s ward) is experiencing some troubling changes as he enters his adolescence. The situation thrusts Lily into the confirmed alpha-rake’s path, where she is most happy to be.

Tall, Dark, & Wolfish is the story of Lord Benjamin and a lovely Scottish witch, Elspeth Campbell. When Ben is no longer able to transform under the power of the moon, he is left with no choice but to search out a fabled witch with healing powers. I laughed most of the time we wrote this book. Elspeth is part of a legendary coven and the other witches do their best in tormenting poor Ben.

The Wolf Next Door is the story of Lord William, the middle brother, and Prisca Hawthorne, a lady at a neighboring estate. Unfortunate circumstance have conspired to keep Will and Prisca apart for years, but when a feral werewolf enters their midst and vies for Prisca’s hand, Will sets out to finally claim the only woman who has ever captured his heart.


Which one of the brothers is your favorite? Which book was the hardest or easiest to write?

Lydia/Jodie – Oh, that is such a hard question to answer! Each brother has his own special qualities that make him loveable. Simon is the alpha of the pack and has a charming gruffness about him. Benjamin is of a softer variety and has a very sweet nature. And then there’s William. *sigh* Will, our charismatic scoundrel, is probably my favorite, but don’t tell the other two. Will makes an appearance in both of his brother’s books before he finally gets a happy ever after of his own.

Lydia/Tammy – Jodie and I differ greatly on this one. Simon, the dangerous duke of Blackmoor, is my favorite. He is the perfect pack alpha as well as a captivating hero. Add Lily, who has the ability to tame him, and you have perfect characters. Ben and Will were fun, too. But Simon set the tone for all the books.

Do you have a set schedule for writing or do you just go with the flow?

Lydia/Jodie – Neither Tammy nor I plot. So we don’t ever really know where the story is headed. So we start at the beginning. One of us writes five pages or so and then we send the pages to our partner who then takes over. So while one of us writes, the other one gets a break. We try to get 5-10 pages a day. Some days are better than others.

Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow? Do you have a ritual that you do before sitting down to write?

Lydia/Tammy – No ritual, really. When I get pages from Jodie, I read and edit. Then start writing. Most days, it’s like a lightbulb turning on when I get the pages. Because writing with a partner means what happens next is always fresh, new and exciting.

What is the strangest source of inspiration you’ve had? Maybe something weird that ended up in one of your books or short stories.

Lydia/Jodie – Oh, I do have an answer for that; but I’ll probably get in trouble if I reveal what it was. So, I’ll just plead the fifth.

Lydia/Tammy – Oh, jeeze. I want to know Jodie’s answer. Don’t you? My strangest source of inspiration was for a scene in book two, Tall, Dark and Wolfish. I was talking with my husband about freckles and birthmarks. It ended up becoming much more than that in my mind.

Do you have a “day job” or do you write full time?

Lydia/Jodie – We both have day jobs. From 9-5, I am a Meeting Planner and Travel Manager for an IT Consulting Firm.

Lydia/Tammy – I am self-employed, work a crazy-busy schedule and Jodie and I both have the world’s hardest job, too, being moms.

Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.

Lydia/Jodie – Well, I think the biggest surprise is that there are two of us. And, though we are good friends, we are also quite different. I think that is what makes our partnership work for us. We compliment each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

What are some of your hobbies besides writing?

Lydia/Jodie – There’s something to do other than write?

Lydia/Tammy – Reading and school sports with my boys (I am the quintessential sports mom) take up any spare moments I have. I must confess that I avoid all things crafty.

So why wolves? Have you always had a love affair with the paranormal?

Lydia/Jodie – Well, when we decided to write together, we knew we were going to set the stories in Regency England because that is my obsession. Blame it on Fitzwilliam Darcy. Tammy had been writing paranormal romance before teaming up. And she wanted to write about wolves. As far as I was concerned, she was the expert in this area. And I’m so glad we went this direction.

Lydia/Tammy – Historical romances were always my favorite genre to read and I’d tried my hand at it, but it just seemed like falling into a big abyss of rules and societal restrictions that I didn’t know enough about. Jodie and I were talking at a workshop and I said “We should try it together.” Two months later, A Certain Wolfish Charm was complete and we were on to book 2. It seems to have worked for us.

I see on your site you have some blank book covers with dates but no other info, will these be more books in the wolf series?

Lydia/Jodie – The fourth book, The Taming of the Wolf, is about a wolf. The title kind of gives that away. But books five, six and seven star some very sexy vampires. We are in the middle of writing those books right now.

In closing, tell us a bit about your latest release. Feel free to share an excerpt.

Chapter One
August 1816, Maberley Hall, Essex

Lily Rutledge had never contemplated murder before, though she was warming to the idea. The most recent column in The Mayfair Society paper taunted her at the breakfast table. It seemed the Duke of Blackmoor had plenty of time to gamble away his funds in one hell or another, race his phaeton along the old Bath road for sport, and spend every other waking hour enjoying the entertainments of one Mrs. Teresa Hamilton or visiting fashionable bawdy houses throughout Town. Not that Lily was terribly surprised. They were the same sorts of things he’d done for years, though she hadn’t cared until now.

“Aunt Lily,” called her twelve-year-old nephew Oliver York, the Earl of Maberley, from a few seats away. “Your face is turning purple again.”

Purple indeed. Lily sighed, looking at the boy. What was she to do with him? Especially when she couldn’t get Blackmoor even to respond to one of her letters. Of course he sent funds every time she wrote him, though that was not what she asked for. Infuriating man! Did he even read her letters? The Maberley estate was not terribly far from London. Visiting Oliver would only interrupt his debauched lifestyle for a day or two at the most. Was that truly too much to ask of his guardian? After all, he hadn’t seen the boy in years.

“Finish your breakfast, Oliver,” she directed, glancing again at the maddening society rag. There must be some way to get His Grace’s attention. Perhaps if she picked up and went to London—

“I’m through,” the young earl responded. “May I be excused?”

Through? Food had been piled high in front of him just moments ago. Lily’s eyes flashed to Oliver’s plate, only to find it completely empty, as was the sideboard behind him. Not a crumb was left uneaten. Where had he gotten this appetite? It wasn’t natural. And how could he possibly have devoured all the food in the room so quickly and quietly? It was another one of the unexplained transformations she’d noticed in her nephew over the last month.

“Yes, of course. You would do well to go over your Latin before Mr. Craven arrives.”

Oliver scowled as he pushed away from the table. “I’d rather not.”

He never wanted to go over his Latin, which was a problem. According to his tutor he was far behind in that particular subject. When he began his first term at Harrow in October, he’d need to do better. That was assuming she sent him off to school, and at the moment she didn’t know if she could do so. It was one of the many things she needed to discuss with that scoundrel Blackmoor.

Lily shook her head. “Mr. Craven says you need to practice, Oliver. Please do so.”

The young earl stomped from the room in a manner she was getting unfortunately accustomed to. Just a month ago, Oliver had had the sweetest disposition. Now she barely recognized him. His shoulders were suddenly broad enough to fill a doorway and he almost had to duck to cross the threshold as he left the breakfast room. Gone was the little boy in short pants. The young earl’s valet had replaced Oliver’s clothing twice in as many months, and had sent more than one pair of trousers to the seamstress to have the seams reinforced.

To make it even worse, he had developed a terrible temper, with the smallest annoyances setting him off. He seemed to rumble more than talk, his singsong voice replaced by a gravely growl. Entry into adulthood was hard, but Lily had never expected it to come on so suddenly and with such force.

Perhaps things would be different if Oliver’s parents were still alive. Perhaps things would be different if Blackmoor showed even the slightest interest in the lad. Perhaps if she’d ever raised an adolescent boy before, she’d know if Oliver’s changes were normal—though she couldn’t imagine they were. Lily knew in her heart, something was drastically wrong with her nephew and she was at a complete loss for what to do.

Blast Blackmoor for ignoring her letters!

An idea occurred to her. If he couldn’t be troubled to visit Oliver, she’d simply have to pay him a visit instead. His Grace would have an impossible time ignoring her in person. She was hard to miss.

Lily picked up the society rag, re-reading it. Everything was there. Everything she needed to know. Where he spent his time and with whom. The Duke of Blackmoor would regret shirking his duties, if it was the last thing she ever did.

***

The only thing Simon Westfield, the Duke of Blackmoor, regretted was purchasing the services of one whore instead of two. Two would be a great deal more fun and would help ease some of the restlessness which seemed to be his constant companion of late. He could count on the disquiet seeping into his subconscious the same way he’d learned to expect the fullness of the moon with each lunar cycle. It just happened. It wasn’t something he thought about. He simply began to feel an anxious flutter, a want.

To ease the discomfort and restlessness, the duke began his infamous prowl. He’d spent so much time and money perfecting his routine that he’d even been written about in the society pages. He supposed he should feel some shame at being reviewed so harshly. One paper even said that he’d lost more than he had to spend, but that was rubbish. He had a lot more to lose. A lot more to enjoy. He usually won at the gaming tables, even when he had a wench settled upon his knee waiting for him, like now.

He reached around the plump brunette, seated solidly on his groin, to tap the table, asking for another card. The doxy squirmed in his lap, giggling as he lifted her bottom to put more of her weight on his thigh. “Sit still,” he mumbled at her. She squirmed again, becoming more impatient. He sighed and laid his cards on the table. He lost the hand. “You don’t listen very well, do you?” he drawled slowly.

“I follow directions very well, Your Grace,” she snickered as she boldly whispered a suggestion in his ear. He dipped his head and kissed the swell of her bosom. She arched toward his mouth, reflexively. If he remembered correctly, this particular woman could arch various parts of her body, because he’d enjoyed her flexibility in the past.

With his cards on the table, he was able to put his hands on her hips and turn her toward him. Her breasts pushed at the top of her bodice, so much skin displayed that she threatened to topple out at any minute.

It wasn’t enough. He was past the point where he could take solace in the body of a willing woman. Sadly, the thought of holding those fleshy orbs didn’t titillate him. She wasn’t going to ease any of the restlessness in him. He knew it. He knew that nothing would satisfy him at this point, nothing that wouldn’t scare the wench off. It even scared him, the things he wanted to do when he got to this point.

He forced the beast within him to subside. Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a guinea and tucked it between her breasts. The tiny jostle caused the creamy flesh to tremble and the edge of a dark areola peeked over the top of her bodice. The beast reared its ugly head.

It wasn’t an attractive desire. It was an overwhelming need to copulate. To force submission. To cover a body with his and own it. It was more than he could control. He stood up and placed her solidly on her feet. She put her hands on her hips and stomped a slippered foot.

He laughed and flicked her nose gently with the tip of his finger. “Don’t pout, love. I’ll be back in a week.” It would take a week before he would feel safe enough to be in polite company. Or impolite company, as the case may be.

Simon strolled out of the hell and walked toward the street where his ducal coach waited. His crest, a lone wolf—gold emblazoned against blue—mocked him. He ignored it. His coachman opened the carriage door and Simon slipped inside, the springs groaning under his weight. He sank heavily into the seat and reached up to loosen his cravat. He hadn’t been careful enough. He’d almost gone too far and taken that wench above-stairs, even though he knew how close he was to losing control. That could have been disastrous.

This time, he couldn’t go to his townhouse. He had to go to Westfield Hall in Hampshire. He needed a secluded area where he could relax and calm himself. He needed to be locked up for a sennight. But no one was able to do that for him, for his brothers would be suffering the same curse. He would take himself out of harm’s way, as he normally did. Of course, the prison was one of his choosing and lacked the cells of Newgate, which is where he would most assuredly be sent should anyone discover his terrible secret. The isolation of the quiet countryside was what he sought. He would go where he could walk the hills at night under the full moon, safe from the intrusion of others. And they would be safe from him.

He slept a fitful sleep the remaining hours of the night, the rocking of the coach his only comfort. He tried to straighten his clothes as he stepped from the coach onto his own cobblestone path, but knew he still looked disheveled. It was a completely unrespectable way for a duke to present himself to his household. Thank heaven he wasn’t a stuffy old member of the peerage. And his staff didn’t expect him to be. They’d seen him in worse shape.

Not even bothering to tie his cravat or fasten the top buttons of his shirt, he turned toward the front door and drew in a deep breath. It felt good to be home. He was safe again, until nightfall. Thankfully, the desire had dissipated with the darkness. If only the darkness of his soul could be lifted as easily as the sun in the sky.

Simon passed through the doorway with a nod to his butler.

“Welcome home, Your Grace.”

Simon immediately knew something was wrong when he saw the normally unshakeable man wipe his sweaty brow. “Is something amiss, Billings?” he asked.

“You have a visitor, Your Grace.” The butler gestured toward the closest sitting room.

From his spot in the corridor, Simon had a clear view of the room. The last person he’d ever expected to see here was Lily Rutledge. But there she was, sitting on his settee, as though she belonged. With the moonful quickly approaching, it wasn’t in her best interest. Simon glared at his butler. Had the man lost his mind? Miss Rutledge could be injured in his presence. “What is she doing here?”

Billings shrugged. “The London staff told her you were here.”

Damn! Fight or retreat? He sighed.

Retreat. He couldn’t see her. There was no telling what the beast would do.

“Ready the coach to take Miss Rutledge home, Billings.” He turned and hastened toward his study.

Simon leaned heavily against the door once he was safely ensconced inside. He took deep breaths to try to calm his racing heartbeat. She shouldn’t have come. Not when he wasn’t fully in control. He couldn’t hide from the fullness of the moon. It would take him whether he wanted it or not. Sure, she was reasonably safe during the day, but when the sun sank behind the horizon, the danger would become more and more real.

He knew Lily Rutledge was a strong woman. She was nearly as tall as the average man, standing well above most females. But he wasn’t an average man. She only reached his shoulder. He bet that he could tuck her under his chin and still have room to look down at her. He imagined himself doing just that, having her close enough to feel her body against his. He groaned and shifted his trousers.

No matter how strong she was, Simon would still hurt her. He slumped down in the seat behind his desk. He was locked in his study. As long as Lily remained safely on the other side, all was well.

But then he heard her voice.

“I know he’s here, Billings,” he heard her cry from the hallway. Simon flinched when her fist hit the door.

“You will see me, Your Grace,” she called. What other woman, he wondered, could make “Your Grace” sound so much like an insult?

© Lydia Dare, Sourcebooks Casablanca, 2010

About the Author(s):

Lydia Dare is the writing team of Tammy Falkner and Jodie Pearson. Both Tammy and Jodie are active members of the Heart of Carolina Romance Writers and live near Raleigh, North Carolina.

They are working together on their next paranormal historical trilogy as Lydia Dare, which will be released by Sourcebooks Casablanca in Spring 2010!

For more information, please visit http://www.lydiadare.com/

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