UNDRESSING MR. DARCY BY KAREN DOORNEBOS – BLOG TOUR & GIVEAWAY

Hello from atop the London Eye!

As an ice-breaker to each leg of my Blog Tour for UNDRESSING MR. DARCY, I’m taking you along for a ride to England, where I traveled during the summer of 2012 to do some research for the book. 

Where am I on this stop? In London, looking out over the city from the Eye. A key scene takes place in the London Eye in my new book UNDRESSING MR. DARCY. Oh my gosh, I had soooo much fun with that scene. You’ll have to read it for yourself to see why! ;) I’ve included some other fun shots from London here for you too, including the famous Mind the Gap warnings painted onto the Tube station platforms and, a reprise of me with the waxen Colin Firth in Madame Tussauds, because I figured Tracie’s readers would like that shot. As you can tell, doing all the research for my book was hard work, ha ha ha! 

Thank you, Tracie, for hosting me here on Books by Banister…it’s great to be here with you! I’m so glad the title UNDRESSING MR. DARCY caught your attention!

So, what’s the deal with this UNDRESSING thing?

Imagine a history lesson where you watch a very handsome Regency gentleman lecture about his clothing as he proceeds to take it off—down to his drawers. This is the premise of UNDRESSING MR. DARCY!

As I was researching male clothing for my first novel, DEFINITELY NOT MR. DARCY, I stumbled across an English website called The History Wardrobe and they had a show called Undressing Mr. Darcy in which a man disrobed while a woman lectured about his clothing. The show is no longer staged, unfortunately, but I have learned that there is a Dressing Mr. Darcy show in Louisville at the Jane Austen Society of North America’s Jane Austen Festival in the summer.

It wasn’t long after learning about the show Undressing Mr. Darcy that I came up with:

He’s an old-fashioned, hardcover book reader who writes in quill pen and hails from England. She’s an American social media addict. Can he find his way to her heart without so much as a GPS? 

Just to give you a taste, here’s the very end of the first chapter. My heroine, Vanessa Roberts, is standing at the airport, waiting for “Mr. Darcy” aka Julian Chancellor, in the crowd with her aunt and another young woman she’d just met:

Excerpt:

Vanessa turned her attention back to her aunt. But the young woman and Aunt Ella weren’t looking at her. They were beaming at a tall, dangerously good-looking man on the other side of the rope wearing a formfitting Regency tailcoat, cravat, buff breeches, and black riding boots. He had an antique, leather-bound book tucked under his arm and didn’t carry suitcases but toted old leather trunks—leather trunks on a wheeled cart? A tumble of black hair spilled onto his forehead. 

How could he look so much better in person than in his author photo? She made a mental note to update that shot—it would increase their crowds. Pleased with his looks (for marketing purposes, of course), Vanessa cleared her throat, as if to clear her mind.

He wore his Mr. Darcy garb on the plane? Then she found herself trying not to notice the slight tug of his breeches, the snug way they fit him—

Huh? He was a client, after all, regardless of whether he was paying her or not.

Even if he had been a prospect, she preferred a man in a well-tailored Italian suit or blue jeans and a button-down shirt, didn’t she? What woman, at thirty-five years old, with a condo, her own business, family ties, and a thing for modern American amenities, would consider a man from another continent—not to mention the nineteenth century? She didn’t understand it.

And, let’s face it, Mr. Darcy’s skill set—chiefly, diving into a pond in his shirtsleeves—would get him nowhere in today’s job market.

“Miss Ella Morgan and Miss Vanessa Roberts, I presume?” he asked in a bass-range voice that needed no emoticons to get attention. Then he bowed. 

He was none other than a very official-looking Mr. Darcy. On the big-screen TV above him, a bomb exploded on the news, and when Vanessa tucked her long brown hair behind her ear, her earbud popped right out.

End of Excerpt

Well, Books by Banister readers, what do you think? By the way, since I’m a huge Benedict Cumberbatch fan, I thought you might want to know that while in London I strayed off the Jane Austen trail to visit the Sherlock Holmes Museum! It was fabulous & a must-see if you’re a Sherlock fan. Sherlock’s home has actually been recreated with all details intact, as if he and Watson just stepped out on a case. The Sherlock Museum is where this pic of me with a “constable” was taken! Lots of photo ops in London!

Thanks for having me here, Tracie!

Buy now at Berkley Penguin – Indiebound - Amazon – B&N – Kobo – BAM - iTunes

WIN!

Comment below for your chance to win a copy of UNDRESSING MR. DARCY! Have you ever been to London? Whether you have or not, where would you most want to visit? To increase your chances of winning you can share this post on your Facebook page or Twitter—let us know you’ve done that! You can also increase your odds by following me on Twitter or Facebook, or, if you’re not already, following Tracie on her social media—don’t forget to let us know about it in your comment, thanks! Contest limited to US entrants only.

Karen is generously giving away TWO paperback copies of UNDRESSING MR. DARCY! Entries can be submitted until midnight on Thursday, December 19th. Please leave your name and e-mail address in the comments so that we have a way to contact you should you win!

Mr. Darcy’s Stripping Off…

…his signet ring. At each blog stop Mr. Darcy will strip off another item. Keep track of each item in chronological order and at then end of the tour you can enter to win a GRAND PRIZE of the book, “DO NOT DISTURB I’m Undressing Mr. Darcy” door hangers for you and your friends, tea, and a bottle of wine (assuming I can legally ship it to your state). US entries only, please. 

Karen Doornebos is the author of UNDRESSING MR. DARCY published by Berkley, Penguin and available here or at your favorite bookstore. Her first novel, DEFINITELY NOT MR. DARCY, has been published in three countries and was granted a starred review by Publisher’s Weekly. Karen lived and worked in London for a short time, but is now happy just being a lifelong member of the Jane Austen Society of North America and living in the Chicagoland area with her husband, two teenagers and various pets—including a bird. Speaking of birds, follow her on Twitter and Facebook! She hopes to see you there, on her website www.karendoornebos.com and her group blog Austen Authors.

JOIN THE BLOG TOUR:

12/2: The Penguin Blog

12/3: Austenprose

12/4 Laura’s Review Bookshelf & JaneBlog

12/5 Chick Lit Plus - Review

12/6 Austen Authors

12/9 Fresh Fiction

12/10 Writings & Ramblings

12/11 Brant Flakes & Skipping Midnight

12/12 Risky Regencies Q&A

12/13 Books by Banister

12/16 Jane Austen in Vermont & Author Exposure Q&A

12/17 Literally Jen

12/18 Savvy Verse & Wit - Review

12/19 Kritters Ramblings

12/20 Booking with Manic- Review

12/23 BookNAround

12/26 My 5 Monkeys - Review

12/27 All Grown Up - Review

12/30 Silver’s Reviews

1/2 Dew on the Kudzu

GUEST POST - CHICK LIT AUTHOR JENNY OLIVER

A Family Christmas Bake Off

by Jenny Oliver

There’s a myth in my family. No one knows where it started or who’s responsible but it exists none the less. What is it? That no one likes Christmas cake. You know - the proper type packed with fruit, laced with alcohol, wrapped in marzipan and thick white icing and decorated with a red bow or a sprig of holly. Growing up we never had one in our house. But ask any individual member of the family who it is that has such an aversion, and no one can quite remember. It’s a mystery. But one that has given us a whole host of other delights...

At Christmas my grandmother would bring with her a battered metal box that would sit on the kitchen table teasing us with the treats inside. And it wasn’t till dessert on Christmas Eve that the lid was lifted. Inside were the biggest, fluffiest meringues - crisp and crunchy on the outside and gooey and soft on the inside, served with mounds of whipped cream and raspberry coulis. I’ll confess, I’ve never had the guts to make a meringue - possibly because I have watched both my grandmother and my mum bake endless rounds of them, watching through the oven door shaking their heads because they’re too brown, they’re oozing sugar, the oven’s too hot, too cold, they’re ruined! The meringue is a mystery of science, temperature and texture to me. Luckily however, the bakers in The Parisian Christmas Bake Off had slightly more guts when it came to piping out meringue mixture than I do!

It wasn’t until I came to writing the book that I realised quite how much baking and creating I had been privy to growing up. From my home economics lessons plaiting tiny loaves of bread, that we ate when no one was watching and all got detention, to my sister making thick, chocolatey fudge when she got bored and only Columbo was on the TV. My granny pouring chocolate into silver moulds to make Christmas decorations shaped like Santa and snowmen and my aunt wrapping tiny spoonfuls of feta with the thinnest filo pastry to make cheese pies that burst and cracked in the oven.

I would watch and taste and stir and to me it was the preparation that was the best bit... the endless cups of tea, the gossip, the arguments, the reminiscing, the fuzzy old black and white TV that never got any reception crackling in the background. And at Christmas that only got better because added to the hustle and bustle was a massive great Christmas tree and a terrible old tape of Christmas chart-toppers that had survived many a chewing-up by the stereo.

For The Parisian Bake Off every single cake, tart, dessert we’d ever made appeared on the page - and then some! Apart from the macaroon. These I adore but I worry that attempting to recreate them at home might spoil the magic. They’re so tiny, bright and delicate I want them to appear in the world ready-made! But everything else, well, I either spied it through the counter of the local patisserie on our summer holiday to France or it came out of my family kitchen - even down to the tiny chocolate cakes iced into the shape of a house and roofed with chocolate buttons and a flake (Blogger's note - A "flake" is a chocolate bar.)

Because, as I say, when it comes to Christmas cake, it’s never fruit. My sister’s wedding cake was passion cake, my wedding cake was a torte, and at Christmas it’s always, without fail, chocolate. Three tiers high, sandwiched together with chocolate icing and always the same recipe. I asked my mum to photograph it and send it over just so you could see how well used it is! (There’s no cover on the cookbook any longer but consensus is that it’s called “The Homepride Book of Home Baking.”) Everyone must have a recipe like this in their family. And, while it’s not the fanciest recipe in the world, I swear it’s the easiest! Everything just goes in one bowl at the same time and then you whack it in the oven - it can’t fail. Just remember if you want to make a house with it, you have to triple the ingredients...depending on how flashy you want your house to be!

And by a stroke of luck, while the fruit cake myth rumbles on back at my parents’ house, it turns out that my mother-in-law bakes a batch of them every year for each of her kids. So now, I get to have both my cakes and eat them!

Merry Christmas, Jen xx


Author Bio 

Jenny Oliver wrote her first book on holiday when she was ten years old. Illustrated with cut-out supermodels from her sister’s Vogue, it was an epic, sweeping love story not so loosely based on Dynasty. Since then Jenny has gone on to get an English degree, a Masters, and a job in publishing that’s taught her what it takes to write a novel (without the help of the supermodels). She wrote The Parisian Christmas Bake Off on the beach in a sea-soaked, sand-covered notebook. This time the inspiration was her addiction to macaroons, the belief she can cook them and an all-consuming love of Christmas. When the decorations go up in October, that’s fine with her! 


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CHARACTER INTERVIEW - SAMANTHA TONGE (DOUBTING ABBEY)

The author interviews her hero, Lord Edward, halfway through the story of Doubting Abbey…

‘Hello Lord Edward. Very nice to meet you!’ Yum! I blush.

‘Good morning – and thank you for this opportunity, to talk about beloved Applebridge Hall.’ Edward runs a hand through his honey curls. ‘Promotion isn’t something that comes naturally to me - but needs must. Please, do start your interview.’

The author visits Lyme Park in Cheshire – all in the name of research about brooding heroes and aristocratic estates, of course! 

If I can concentrate with this hunk in front of me, yes… ‘So, your cousin Abbey lives here at Applebridge, now - temporarily. Is she, um, exactly what you expected?

‘Yes, of course, I mean…’ He won’t meet my eye, clearly guilty at having to pretend they were best mates when they’d only met each other once,  growing up. ‘I do know her very well… We are a terribly close family. And apart from the occasional unexpected outburst she is everything a strong Croxley woman should be –although granted, her behaviour is less… restrained than I, um, remember.’

I nod. Blimey. He did it. Upstanding Lord Edward managed a fib. Although little did he know that the ‘Abbey’ staying with him now was actually a pizza waitress – Gemma - in disguise. In fact talking of her…

‘And what about the girl with the red hair and high shoes that you met in the gardens, the other night?’ Oh yes, flighty Gemma bumped into him, when she was out of her Abbey disguise.

‘You know about that?’ For a second the serious fog around him lifts and light dances in his eyes. Edward chuckles. ‘Gemma is… is a beam of honesty, directness and… f…fun.’

I lean forward. ‘You seem to have trouble saying that f word.’

His brow goes back to its default setting: a frown. ‘I do. What with the last few years filled with worry about not letting our ancestors down… Applebridge Hall is seeped in history… Father and I don’t want to be the Croxleys who see the place go to rack and ruin. Fun doesn’t picture much in the daily routine, I’m afraid.’

His shoulders sag and I just want to put my arms around him and… *sigh*. ‘But it wouldn’t be your fault – many estates struggle nowadays,’ I say softly.

No trace of light in his eyes now, Edward sits up taller. ‘It’s my responsibility to protect the Croxley home and its history – and I’ll do everything in my power to achieve that.’ He shook himself. ‘There’s no point complaining. One must strive to be a glass half-full sort of person. I have to believe that, with Abbey’s help, Applebridge Hall will win reality show Million Dollar Mansion and thus secure its financial future.’

I nod, a lump in my throat at the stoic determination in his tone. ‘Well, I um, won’t keep you any longer. Thank you for your time.’ I smile.

Lord Edward leans forward and shakes my hand. ‘Many thanks, Samantha.’

Heart racing, I manage to remain composed until he leaves the room. Wow! His touch sent a bolt of electricity right through my fingers. Despite his uptight nature and conservative clothes, Edward, baby, is one hot guy…!

Sadly, Lord Edward did NOT re-enact the infamous 'Darcy emerges from a swim in the lake in a wet, clingy shirt' scene when Samantha met with him.

Book Blurb 

Swapping downstairs for upstairs… How hard can it be!?

Look up the phrase ordinary girl and you’ll see a picture of me, Gemma Goodwin – I only look half-decent after applying the entire contents of my make-up bag, and my dating track-record includes a man who treated me to dinner…at a kebab shop. No joke!

The only extraordinary thing about me is that I look EXACTLY like my BFF, Abbey Croxley. Oh, and that for reasons I can’t explain, I’ve agreed to swap identities and pretend be her to star in the TV show about her aristocratic family’s country estate, Million Dollar Mansion.

So now it’s not just my tan I’m faking – it’s Kate Middleton style demure hemlines and lady-like manners too. And amongst the hundreds of fusty etiquette rules I’m trying to cram into my head, there are two I really must remember; 1) No-one can ever find out that I’m just Gemma, who’d be more at home in the servants quarters. And 2) There can be absolutely no flirting with Abbey’s dishy but buttoned-up cousin, Lord Edward.

Aaargh, this is going to be harder than I thought…

Author Bio

Samantha lives in north-west England with her lovely family and two cats who think they are dogs. Along with writing, her days are spent swimming, willing cakes to rise and avoiding housework. A love of fiction developed as a child, when she was known for reading Enid Blyton books in the bath. A desire to write bubbled away in the background whilst she pursued other careers, including a fun stint working at the EuroDisney theme park. Formally trained as a linguist, Samantha now likes nothing more than holing herself up in the spare room, in front of the keyboard. Writing romantic comedy novels and short stories is her passion.

Samantha has sold over 80 short stories to women's magazines.

Her debut romantic comedy novel, "Doubting Abbey" is out now, from digital-first imprint CarinaUK, (Harlequin).

Buy Doubting Abbey:

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HOLIDAY FIC EXCERPT - THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT BY SUSAN BUCHANAN

Book Blurb

Christmas is coming, but not everyone is looking forward to it.

Rebecca has just been dumped and the prospect of spending the holiday period with her parents is less than appealing.

Eighty- two year old Stanley lost his beloved wife, Edie, to cancer. How will he cope with his first Christmas without her?

Jacob’s university degree hasn’t helped him get a job, and it looks like he’ll still be signing on come New Year.

Workaholic Meredith would rather spend December 25th at home alone with a ready meal and a DVD box set. Can anything make her embrace the spirit of the season?

The enigmatic Natalie Hope takes over the reins at the Sugar and Spice bakery and café in an attempt to spread some festive cheer and restore Christmas spirit, but will she succeed?

Excerpt

‘Do I look all right?’ Rebecca appraised herself in front of the mirror in the Ladies’, where about a dozen girls were vying for space to reapply mascara, lipstick and eyeliner. 

‘Fantastic. Now let’s get out there on the pull.’ Hannah dragged her friend, laughing, by the hand, back out into the throng at Stefan’s thirtieth birthday party. Hannah had been Stefan’s neighbour when they were teenagers and they had hung out together. Since her invitation had said Hannah plus one, and she had no current boyfriend, she’d decided Rebecca could do with a night out, especially after that git Ethan had been immutable about not letting her buy out his share of the flat, now that it was already in the hands of the lawyers. Rebecca needed perking up. 

Stefan’s party was bound to be full of young, eligible men. Hannah knew Rebecca wasn’t interested in a relationship, since she was still trying to disengage herself from the mess of the previous one, but a snog with a random stranger at Christmas could only lift your spirits and Rebecca was an extremely pretty girl, even if she didn’t know it. She was bound to attract some male attention. 

They weaved their way back to the bar. Standing with his back to Rebecca was Ethan. She’d know the set of those shoulders anywhere, plus he was wearing the purple and white shirt she’d bought him for his birthday. Just as well she could tell him from the back, as his face was almost completely covered by the blonde locks of a lycra-clad woman who definitely wasn’t just a platonic friend. 

Rebecca stopped dead. She couldn’t move. They had just split up for God’s sake. He’d moved on quickly enough. The girl eventually disentangled herself from Ethan, saw Rebecca standing stock-still in front of her and said, ‘Christ, she’s stalking us now, Ethan.’ 

Ethan mumbled something which sounded like Sorry? and turned around. The colour drained from his face when he saw Rebecca and in that moment she knew. He had been right when he said they wanted different things, or in his case different people, one person in particular. He’d told her there was no-one else, but he had lied. It was all becoming clear to her now. This celebrity wannabe who he’d been wrapped around, was so far from being her, it was risible. What had she said, she’s stalking us now? So, they were a couple, and from her comment it appeared not a recent development either. 

Through gritted teeth, Rebecca ignored her perma-tanned replacement and turning to Ethan, said, ‘How long?’ 

Avoiding her eyes, Ethan said, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ 

‘Don’t insult me any further, Ethan. You owe me that. How long has it been going on? I know you were with her when we were still together. How long?’ 

Seeing the determined set of Rebecca’s jaw, he said in a low voice, ‘Seven months.’ 

‘Thanks. That’s all I wanted to know. You’re perfect for each other, by the way,’ and she turned on her heel and left, Hannah following close behind her. 

‘Oh God, Becks, I’m so sorry. I had no idea he knew Stefan.’ 

‘It doesn’t matter. Jesus, she could have been Jordan’s twin sister. What is it with men?’ Then Rebecca burst into tears.

Author Bio

Susan Buchanan lives in Central Scotland with her partner, Tony and baby daughter, Antonia. The Christmas Spirit is her third novel, published Dec 2013. Her fourth novel, What If, is expected to be released summer 2014. 

Here is Susan Buchanan talking about The Christmas Spirit - I always wanted to write a Christmas novel - I just didn’t know it was this one! The Christmas Spirit took me by surprise, as I lay in bed one night trying to get to sleep. The title and the idea came at the same time and then I created the characters piece by piece. I love Christmas, but I started wondering how it would be for those who had little to look forward to this Christmas. And I figured they needed a helping hand!

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