Yes, I know all we seem to be doing right now is welcoming authors, but Shehanne has been busying herself right, left and centre with her various themed weeks. My only consolation is she intends doing a pirate one.
While I suppose I would have been happier if she had done Lady Fury one, beggars cannot be choosers. So long as she does not choose to put that scurvy Sapphire wench before me, I believe I can cope. And it may even be she deigns to throw me a blog. Who knows?
Anyway, here we are today in Wismar ..Wismar, how did we get to Wismar?… a charming Hanseatic League town in Germany, with a crest, with a boat.
with her last release Daring To Wish….
Felicitations on seeing you in our little stopover today here in Wismar Can you tell us something about your journey from your homeland?
I must admit having come from the Shire there seems to be a delay in finding my sea legs. Some of the waves were higher than the hills I reside in and I fear my pallor resembles the grass upon them.
Gracious and here was I thinking it was the latest in fake tans. The crew are making you welcome I trust?
If cool assessing stares are a welcome, then yes your crew are making me feel…erm…welcome. And I’m not sure if one of them was saying hello or growling at me? Maybe he misunderstood my regional greeting of ‘Ay up Duck’.
So long as it was not Squire Jack, who is generally in that state, then we are good, although I don’t know about Skipper Jane who he has a notion of. You have brought me a pleasing little gift I see. Is it something you painted yourself?
Coming from the Potteries it seemed only appropriate I should bring you a gift made by my own fair hands (possibly!) Perfect for a nice cup of tea, or throwing at the crew should they dare to misbehave.
I am sure I can find something more appropriate for that. We would not wish to break your teacup after all. Now then, you have met the charming members of the club. Can you tell us why we should each of us spend a week reading your book?
Well there is a little bit of deceit and quite a few lies told in Best Fake Day. Something Milady and her crew should be quite familiar with.
Them perhaps. But moi?
And of course there are the reviews…
“I am giving this book a 5/5 just based on the fact I was grinning like an idiot at the end of this book. I was satisfied, and happy, and in love with it. What more could I ask for? Great, fun read for any romance reader.”
Gracious, I must though Milady, that I do like the idea of things being….fake. Not looking at myself of course…. Although, a wedding, a wedding just make me cry when I am still waiting for my own. And I have such lovely bridesmaids too. And dresses…dresses to die for.
Sorry of course I meant –
Oh well…It will not put me off reading your book.
While I think I have cured Flint of eyeing other women, he is still a great one for eyeing everything else. He calls it booty. Is there anything I should do to disabuse him of helping himself to other people’s boats and their contents? Already we have four gondolas aboard.
Hmm…well Izzy in Best Fake Day happens to be a photographer. Maybe Milady needs to pose for some intimate shots that Flint won’t be able to take his eyes off.
Hmmmmmmm. I am sure they would be fully clothed.
most thoughtfully provided our fare today, largely because the pirates eschew the culinary arts for cutlass waving, drinking and frolicking on shore with wenches. Do you have any tips for making them try at least to help my maid, Susan, in the galley? It is such a task and she gets quite fraught.
Well as Best Fake Day is all about the fake, maybe Susan needs to fake an illness to get out of her duties. Or, if she gets desperate, faking her amorous affections for the crew might get her a little extra help.
I suppose, it would be anything to get rid of her.
Then there is the harbour…
what sites—if any– do you intend visiting here when you leave the ship? Provided of course, you first sign a disclaimer that you never saw me, or Flint?
Oh never mind the Crow.
Also the market might be worth a visit, might be the ideal place for…sorry I seem to have forgotten who I was talking about…
Faking it never felt so good. Wedding photographer and romance lover Izzy Latham dreams of finding her own happily-ever-after. When her former teenage crush arrives at her doorstep, looking sexier than ever, and asks to marry her, it should be her dream come true, right? Wrong. It turns out he doesn’t want to actually marry her—he only wants to pretend to marry her. Marriage hater Jack Carter will do anything to close his latest business deal, including finding a wife. The only person who can help him is his childhood friend, Izzy. Except Izzy isn’t a little girl anymore. She’s definitely all woman, and there’s an attraction between them that’s hard to ignore. Jack has to convince Izzy to fake it, but the problem is that she hates to lie. However, she can’t deny her feelings for him either. So when Jack makes her an offer she can’t refuse, she reluctantly agrees to help him out. Faking it is the easy part. But what happens when fake starts to feel so real? Content Warning: contains sensual sex and occasional strong language
“Let me work off the money,” Izzy said.
She felt Jack’s gaze rake over her body, watched the clench of his jaw. “And how are you planning to work it off, Isabel?” he almost growled. “Is that what all of this is about?” he asked as his hand made an indicating sweep over her body. “Dress to impress so you can pay me in kind?”
“Oh God, no,” she spluttered. “This is me showing you I’m not the weak, naïve girl I used to be and I won’t be pushed around!”
The hard glint in his eyes softened slightly. “You were never weak. Naïve…” He trailed off. “So how exactly were you planning to pay me back?”
“Working here for you for free until I pay you back. I could collect glasses, work the bar, or clean.”
“And you have experience in any of those roles?”
“No. But I could learn.”
“But what about the house repairs?”
She shrugged. “I could do that during the daytime and work here at night. Then when I’m earning again from my day job I’ll pay you back.”
“And what exactly is your day job?”
“I’m a photographer. I could even do that here. Take photographs of the patrons and sell them for you.”
“You work freelance?”
“I have my own business.” She hesitated before elaborating. “As a wedding photographer,” she said quickly, hoping he wouldn’t snag the teasing opportunity.
Too late. The corner of his mouth quirked until it bloomed until a grin. “A wedding photographer. How appropriate. I knew playing dress-up with your mother’s veil and having teddy bears as your guests would have an influence on you one day.”
“You mean like wanting to have a traditional wedding where the groom doesn’t have to bribe the bride? Yeah, my childhood messed me up real bad,” she said with sarcasm.
“You’re not working here, Izzy. And this conversation is over.”
“No, it’s not. I’m giving you a solution to paying off what I owe. I’ll work off the amount Ellie paid for our debts and the rest you get from her. So when do I start?”
“You are not working here.”
“Do you really want to have some guy groping you as you serve drinks? Or a group of guys? I run a tight ship and look out for my staff, but sometimes it happens.”
“I can look after myself. I have been groped before, you know. I can deal with it.”
He slid his chair closer, bending his legs so hers surrounded him without touching, but close, very close. He looked up at her under dark lashes. “So if some guy puts a hand on your leg you wouldn’t mind?”
She shook her head.
“And if that hand strayed beneath your dress?” he asked as his hand reached out to graze the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, making her shudder.
She shook her head slowly, earning a dark look. Of course she would mind. But this was Jack.
He stood abruptly, stepping into the v of her thighs. “And if a guy tried to kiss you?”
“I have been kissed before, remember?” she said, inwardly cringing at how breathless she sounded.
“I remember being a boy kissing you as a girl. If I were to kiss you now I wouldn’t be holding back and I wouldn’t be kissing you as a boy—I’d be kissing you as a man.”
“Then do it,” she demanded.
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