A Dream of Desire (30 page)

Dear Reader,

What is the worst part of writing a historical romance? Once upon a time, I might have thought it was most difficult to unravel the plot and character motivations, but the more I write, the more I realize the truth. It’s the research! And I don’t mean that in a moan-and-groan-it’s-homework way. I mean that the more I research for the sake of a book, the more I get flat-out distracted by all the little golden nuggets I find.

When I start researching, I tend to trawl the
London Times
archives, which has a searchable database that is so beautiful and easy to use that it almost makes me cry. For A DREAM OF DESIRE, I started by looking up articles about prisons and juvenile delinquency, but got quickly distracted by other things like the classified advertisements. The
Times
was full of ads for polka and mazurka lessons, “paper hanging” sales, tea companies, and job openings for schoolmistresses and butlers. The “prisons” search term appeared in the classifieds in an advertisement for “prisons supply of coal, meat, bread, oatmeal, barley, candles, and stockings.” The ad requested that suppliers submit an application to the keeper of the prisons to be considered for the position.

I also get distracted by other articles about criminal court proceedings (a goldmine of story ideas), new laws, intelligence from overseas, and details about royal court life, like the state ball of 1845 at Buckingham Palace, which was attended by over one thousand members of the nobility and gentry and where Her Majesty and the Hereditary Grand Duke of Mecklenburgh Strelitz danced the quadrille in the ballroom, which was festooned with crimson and gold draperies and lit by a huge, cut-glass lustre.

I find that fascinating. But distractions aside, it really is within the pages of the newspapers and magazines published in the nineteenth century that the most vivid details of a story can come to life. When I first started writing A DREAM OF DESIRE, I thought surely the term “juvenile delinquent” was a historical anachronism, but it was used often in Victorian-era
Times
articles about “juvenile destitution and crime.”

I’ve come to accept the fact that rather than being a dedicated, focused researcher, I’m more like a magpie whose attention is caught by shiny objects. But I’ve also learned to appreciate how much all those little tidbits of information come in handy when crafting a story—what might happen if the hero and heroine were in attendance at Her Majesty’s state ball? What if the heroine was having a clumsy moment (or better yet, was distracted by the hero’s rakish good looks) and tripped over the Grand Duke in the middle of the quadrille? What if she found herself face-to-face with a rather irate Queen Victoria?

Must go. I have some writing to do!

Dear Reader,

I like wine. Any kind of wine. I’ve learned a lot about it over the years, but only because if you use any product enough, you’ll end up pretty educated about it. (If I ate 147 different kinds of Little Debbie snack cakes, I’d know a lot about them, too.) I can swirl, sniff, and sip with the best of them. But the fourth S: spit? Seriously? The theory is that one should merely taste the wine without getting tipsy, but come on. Who in his right mind tastes good wine and then spits it out?

My husband and I once went to a wine tasting/competition where we took our glasses around to the various vintners’ booths and received tiny tasting pours, which we were to sip, savor, and judge. By the time we sampled the offerings of about two dozen vineyards, those tiny pours added up. At first we discussed acidity, mouth feel, and finish, then thoughtfully marked our scorecards. By the end of the event, we’d lost our scorecards and were wondering if there was a frat party nearby we could crash. Okay, so maybe that spitting thing has some merit.

In BABY, IT’S YOU, the hero, Marc Cordero, runs an estate vineyard in the Texas Hill Country that has been in his family for generations. As I researched winemaking for the book, I discovered it’s both a science and an art, requiring intelligence, intuition, willpower, and above all, heart. The heroine, Kari Worthington, feels Marc’s pride as he looks out over the grapevine-covered hills, and she’s in awe of his determination to protect his family legacy. For a flighty, free-spirited, runaway bride who’s never had a place to truly call home, Cordero Vineyards and the passionate man who runs it are the things of which her dreams are made.

So next time I go to a wine tasting, I’m going to think about the myriad challenges that winemakers faced in order to present that bottle for me to enjoy. But I’m still not gonna spit.

I hope you enjoy BABY, IT’S YOU!

JaneGraves.com

Twitter @JaneGraves

Facebook.com/AuthorJaneGraves

Dear Reader,

I have a secret to confess: I’m not creative with my hands.

My mother and sister inherited an artistic gene that I did not. My mother drew a Christmas scene on the mirror over the fireplace every year. Drawings I create look as though they were done by a toddler.

My sister can wrap a present that is too pretty to open. Gifts I wrap look as though I’ve hired a chimpanzee and given it ten rolls of Scotch tape, though that is probably insulting to chimpanzees.

I have zero skills at flower arranging. People think I’m joking when I say that, but it’s actually true. If I set out to arrange a bouquet of my favorite blooms, by the time I’m done, I end up with two-inch stems. And if a food item needs to look as appealing as it tastes, I’m in trouble.

Therefore, when I set out to write the Big Sky Pie series, I had to imagine pastry chefs with the skills of sculptors, who create masterpieces, not with clay, but with pie dough. Molly McCoy is at loose ends after the sudden death of her husband. She has always dreamed of opening her own shop, a venue to sell her blue-ribbon pies, and she decides life is too short to not act now. But just as her dream is about to become a reality, Molly suffers a life-threatening health crisis. Worrying about the pie shop might be the end of her—if her son and his about-to-be-ex-wife don’t step up and take over.

When my mother passed away unexpectedly, I was thrown off kilter so badly I lost forty pounds in six weeks. So I really understood how Quint McCoy could lose himself after his beloved dad died suddenly. Up to that point, Quint had always had a sense of who he was and what he wanted. He just didn’t understand that work wasn’t as important as family until after his grief caused him to push away everyone he loved.

Callee had grown up unable to trust that anyone would ever love her. Quint’s rejection proved her right. She didn’t fight for their marriage; she just went along with his request for a divorce. And that divorce is almost final when Molly collapses. She tricks Callee into agreeing to work with Quint to open her pie shop, but can this sizzling hot couple work together without their emotions setting flame to the Big Sky Pie kitchen?

I hope you’ll enjoy DELECTABLE, the first book in my Big Sky Pie series. All of the stories are set in northwest Montana near Glacier Park, an area where I vacationed every summer for over thirty years. Each of the books is about someone connected with the pie shop in one way or another. So come meet the couples whose relationships grow from half-baked into a love that will melt your heart. Also, each book offers a different delectable pie recipe. What more could you want?

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