Please welcome today fellow Muse author Megan Johns, who is going to talk a little bit about Italy and her
newest release, A Shore of Secrets. I was privileged to meet Megan at Muse when I became her editor. A Shore of Secrets is a wonderful book, and I loved it! I'll also tell you a little secret - by the end of the book, I was in love with Giovanni myself! Make yourself at home, Megan, while I get us some capuccinos to drink. Readers, keep reading to the end, there will be a giveaway!
The Land of Love
The Republic of Venice was the pleasure
capital of Europe in the 18th century. Venice became a must on the Grand Tour of Europe for
young men coming of age, owing much to its social vices. The renowned Carnival,
gambling houses, and beautiful courtesans were huge attractions. Small surprise
Italy developed a reputation as the land of love. Even Shakespeare based his most passionate story about falling in love here—Romeo
and Juliet. It is also one of the reasons I chose it as
the setting for my romantic novel ‘A Shore of Secrets’.
Venice is home to the renowned libertine
Casanova. He became so famous for his
complicated and elaborate affairs with women that his name is now synonymous
with
womanizer. However, more recent
studies of him reveal a more complex character who, although a notorious
seducer, was also seduced. He loved the women he had affairs with. He wasn't
just a cad who bedded a woman then left her. He had rich relationships with
women.
The image of amorous Latins owes much to
Casanova. It seems he was not so much a callous libertine as a man in love with
love. And who could resist that? As for Giovanni Renaldi—the hero in ‘A Shore
of Secrets’—he is no Casanova, but he is powerfully intense and passionate in
his own way. I admit to falling slightly
in love with him, so how can the heroine possibly resist?
MEDIA KIT
BLOG
TOUR DATES 17 June – 05 July
AUTHOR BIO: I
live in a pretty village in the UK countryside, complete with a duck pond and
stocks on the village green. With our daughter now grown up, my husband and I
are empty nesters, apart from an adorable Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and some
neighbouring alpacas.
I always enjoyed writing, but juggling family life
and a lecturing career left little time. Only when life began to slow down did
I start writing in earnest.
My reading tastes are eclectic. I enjoy Joanna
Trollope because of the pithy way in which she deals with contemporary issues,
also Rosamunde Pilcher and the late Maeve Binchy are firm favourites. I like to
explore most genres, however.
In my own writing, I aim to focus on writing
contemporary romance novels ‘with teeth’.
LATEST
RELEASE TITLE: ‘A SHORE OF SECRETS’
GENRE: CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
TAG
LINE: ‘In all secrets there is a kind
of guilt.’ Can Abi learn to trust, and
Giovanni to forgive?
TAGS: Romance, contemporary romance, women’s
fiction, Italy, Venice, holiday resort, British heroine, secrecy, trust
BLURB
‘Italia! Oh Italia! Thou who hast the
fatal gift of beauty.’ Byron
And Venice is exquisite. Nor is the beauty confined
to the place. Hotelier Giovanni Renaldi is tall, dark and devilishly
handsome. Yet holiday representative Abi seems immune. Crossed in
love, she is in no hurry to fall again. Plus his arrogance is so infuriating.
Surely the discomforting
feelings he evokes can only be guilt at covering for his naive sister’s
secret lover?
When passion
finally wins through, the thrill of their lovemaking is soon wrecked. And
Giovanni, proud and fierce defender of his family since inheriting the role of
patriarch, is enraged to learn Abi has colluded with his sister.
But Abi quickly
discovers her secrecy is nothing compared to Giovanni’s. As the family’s
closely guarded secrets begin to unfold, she is sucked into their internal
wrangling.
Is nothing what it seems in this clandestine
community?
And can love
triumph over the turmoil of scarred lives?
SHORT EXCERPT: The
piazza hummed with activity. A huddle of guests outside the hotel seemed in
good spirits, despite their various states of undress. From beyond them,
however, the shadowy image of a stretcher emerged. Abi’s stomach clenched.
Pushing a path through the crowd of onlookers, she rushed toward it.
“What’s going on?” she protested as the tall, imposing figure of
Giovanni Renaldi appeared from nowhere to block her way.
“Nothing to worry about,” he informed her in a manner so crisp it verged
on brusque.
A needle of pique worked its way through her veins and she regarded him
head-on. He might be the epitome of Italian suave and sophistication, but any
appeal was annihilated by his infuriating manner.
“So, why the
ambulance?”
“There’s been a minor incident, that’s all. It’s just a routine
check-up.”
“Routine? At this time of night?” Her voice rose in sharp protest.
Something about his demeanour struck a chord.
“If it’s one of my clients, I need to know
what’s going on!”
He regarded the shoes still dangling from the crook of her fingers and
pitched her a severe look, as if addressing a child. Uncomfortable under the
weight of his gaze, she wriggled her shoulders and looked away.
LONGER EXCERPT
The
entrance to the Casa Mia was to the right of the piazza, now buzzing with early
evening activity as people spilled out to join in with the pre-dinner passeggiata. A slow-moving river of
holidaymakers glided along the pedestrian-only shopping street, reputed to be
the longest in Europe. From time to time, a group would dip out of the main
flow to browse around one of the endless shops that lined the route. Others
scanned menus on display outside the equally proliferate restaurants. Women in
fine, tailored dresses and elegant gold jewellery promenaded arm-in-arm with
designer-clad males. And then there was the younger set, exchanging playful
banter, eager to show off their fashionable clothes. Families, too, strolled in
convoy, at one in their low-key unfussy holiday attire. It was that type of
resort. Nobody looked out of place.
She paused to retrieve the note from her bag and
scrutinised the writing to check she had not misread anything.
“Hey, Abi!” A voice sounded from behind her.
Turning, she acknowledged the client with a
bright, “Hi. Everything okay?”
“Great.” The woman’s low-cut dress revealed angry red strips across her
breasts.
She hunched a resigned shrug, accustomed by now to her clients’
ingrained disregard for the strength of the sun. Despite repeated warnings, it
was an endemic madness for which the farmacia
had an endless supply of high-strength creams. Thank goodness. The added complication of clients with severe burns
would make her job intolerable. In the event, life was not so bad.
A trail of deep, pink bougainvillea
escaped from the dense curtain of colourful bracts enshrouding the entrance to
the Casa Mia. Stooping to push it back, she allowed a small smile to curve her
lips.
“Ciao.” A disembodied voice chimed the moment she stepped into the foyer.
She turned to acknowledge Francesca beaming a broad smile from over in
the dining room. The young girl’s perfect, naturally white teeth dazzled even
from a distance.
“Ciao,” Abi responded, her spirits lifted as ever. Francesca’s vitality
bubbled over clear and bright, as refreshing as a mountain spring.
“Come stai? Okay?” With
careless abandon, the young girl threw down a handful of cutlery and proceeded
to lay the table.
"Così."
Abi twitched a little shoulder shrug.
Stopping her frenetic activity, the Italian
girl fixed an earnest gaze on her. The brown eyes were anxious, almost
child-like, as if a dimmer switch turned down the light in the youthful face. "Problema?"
"I've come to meet Mr. Henderson." Abi
swept the vicinity with vigilant eyes and then lobbed her a wink.
A discordant clatter of cutlery resonated
through the air. Francesca was by her side in no time. "He is no
happy?"
She grinned at the young girl, so fresh-faced
and eager to please. Despite her best intentions, Francesca was like a
butterfly—beautiful and graceful, always flitting here and there so you could
never be certain what she was likely to do next.
"Francesca!"
Another disembodied voice echoed from the depths of the dining room, this one
harsh and impatient. "Tavola!"
"Un
momento!" Rolling her eyes, Francesca blatantly disregarded the
command.
"It's okay. Mr. Henderson knows I'm
meeting him here. You go back to the tables and I’ll wait." An oblique
smile played at the corner of Abi’s mouth, reassuring the younger girl, and she
pulled Rosa’s note from her bag, creased into neat folds, despite its dog-eared
state.
However, the voice was upon them before there
was time to act. Giovanni's tall, dark form loomed out of the shadowy interior,
the short sleeves of his crisp, white shirt a vivid contrast to his deep olive
colouring.
"Francesca!" A spark of temper lit
his eyes to flaming gold and, with a commanding nod, he ushered his sister back
to her abandoned duties.
"Hallo." He turned to Abi, his
annoyance curbed, and he adopted the cool, crisp, business-like manner that was
his usual demeanour. "Can I help you?"
His tone was mild, yet when she lifted her
gaze she was hit by the piercing intensity of his stare. Her heart gave a
little leap.
"Thank you. I already have an
appointment to meet Mr. Henderson here." Unsettled by the sensation of
being scrutinised and assessed, she glanced aside. With a dry cough, she
cleared her throat and endeavoured to regain the equilibrium he had destroyed.
Her eyes shot back to him. “Actually, yes, you can help. Maybe you could explain what happened last
night? I need to complete a full and accurate report. There are a lot of
unanswered questions at the moment.”
He turned his watchful stare on her again.
“It was nothing of any consequence. The fire alarm in the kitchen was triggered
by some smoke from a pan.”
“At one o’clock in the morning?”
“Signor Donadini was making himself a snack.
We hoteliers often have to eat at odd hours.” His manner remained bland,
despite his obvious impatience.
“And the ambulance?”
“There was a minor mishap and the pan caught
fire. Signor Donadini burnt his arm whilst putting it out and I insisted he should
have the wound checked. There’s no need to make a drama of the situation.”
Swiping the air with his hand as if to erase the words, he signalled the matter
was closed. His body language defied her to question him further.
A surge of anger threatened Abi’s equilibrium
again. She, and not he, should be in the role of assessor.
Yet Giovanni oozed authority from every pore. Not for the first time in his
presence, she found herself struggling to maintain a professional
standing. She caught his ironic smile,
as if he was enjoying her discomfort.
“Is that all?”
“Hmm...” Her tone was sceptical, conveying
she was far from convinced, and her combative gaze clashed against his.
For a fleeting second, his eyes seemed to
spark. What the hell went on behind them she couldn’t begin to imagine. The moment
passed. With one bat of his long lashes, he renewed his assault with a stare so
icy it would have frozen a geyser.
Author's
Other Works:
‘The Path of Innocence’, published by Devine Destinies BUY LINK CLICK HERE
Short stories in the anthologies ‘Writers
on the Wrong Side of the Road’ and ‘The Speed of Dark’ published by Chase
Enterprises Publishing. BUY LINK CLICK HERE
Megan is offering a giveaway, a copy of A Shore of Secrets, to one lucky commenter! Don't forget to leave your email address!
Thanks for stopping by, Megan, please visit again!
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
