My author copies have arrived, a lovely post-Christmas gift, and I've taken a quick break in revisions for my next book to post a sneak peak preview of Max and Diana's story, which is available for pre-order now at Amazon and B&N and BAM. In a matter of days (2007, arrgghhh!) it will also be on sale at eHarlequin.

The overnight snowfall wasn't as heavy as anticipated and her boss arrived back in town half an hour after Diana opened the doors at Click. They caught up on business news and Jeffrey looked over the proofs of the horse shots she's taken for Max. They debated some of her choices of composition, and his suggestion to crop one full-body shot back to head and superbly arched neck sparked excitement in her creative soul.

She set off to print Max's order with that bonus extra, all thoughts of seduction forgotten.

When she strode back into the gallery an hour later, her satisfied smile reflected a job well done. Jeffrey's comments had evoked several subtle changes and the enlarged prints would look better than she'd envisioned. She couldn't wait to show them off.

Following the low murmur of Jeffrey's voice, she turned the corner in the L-shaped gallery and stopped short. Jeffrey and Max were studying her exhibit. The smile froze on her face, even as her heart lurched to life.

She hadn't expected to see him until late in the afternoon, when she'd suggested his prints would be ready to collect.

"Ah, there you are!"

It was Jeffrey who spoke, but her eyes were on Max as he turned. There was something in his expression, some slow burn of appreciation that caused her heart to beat faster, and she couldn't look away.

Then Jeffrey cleared his throat, loudly, and she realized how long the silence had stretched.

"You're early," she said hurriedly. "I've barely finished printing and there is still some--"

"I'm not here for my photos," he assured her. "I'm here to look at yours."

Oh.

"Max was particularly keen to see your winter compilation," Jeffrey said. "He has good taste."

And a good sense of which particular flattery might turn her head, Diana thought, recovering from her initial response to his presence. She'd invited him to do his worst and this, most likely, was it.

Knowing that he aimed to butter her up, that it was all a seduction ruse, would help her keep any complimentary observations he made in perspective.

With measured steps she approached the two men, her chary gaze sliding from Jeffrey's face to Max's and then on to the series of pictures she called her Gothics. The Fortune family's big estate house with its dark stone façade, its stark black-roofed angles and wrought iron gables, the imposing array of chimneys and lighthouse cupolas that jutted into the sky...all set against the stark white of a heavy Christmas snowfall.

Looking at the pictures always gave her a deep-seated chill, of satisfaction and because of the subject matter.

"Well?" she asked. "What do you think?"

"The truth?"

Diana hazarded a sideways glance and found him studying her, not the pictures. She ignored the little flutter in her pulse. "Of course I want to hear what you really think. Go ahead. Be brutal."

One eyebrow crooked, as though asking if she was sure, and she made a go-ahead gesture with her hand. He turned back to the pictures. "They're cold," he said without preamble. "No life, no color, no movement." His gaze flicked back to hers. "I gather that's the point?"

Jeffrey chuckled. "Exactly. You should feel the extremes of these in your bones. That is the point. Now, if you contrast those with the horse set--"

The phone began to ring, distracting Jeffrey's attention. "I'll get it," Diana said, already pivoting on the heels of her favorite cherry-red boots.

"No, no. You can clarify your motivations better than I. You stay."

For several seconds nothing broke the silence except the echo of Jeffrey's retreating footsteps. Diana pretended to study the pictures she knew by heart, waiting until he was out of earshot before ending this vignette and sending Max on his way.

"Cold getting to you?"

Frowning, she looked down and realized she was rubbing her hands together. Not that she was prepared to admit to nerves. She smiled wryly. "Proof positive that the pictures are effective."

His eyes remained on her hands a moment longer, reminding her of the previous day. The work-roughened texture of his big hands closing over hers, the intimate slide as their fingers laced together, the hot spark of awareness when he persuaded her to admit that she still felt this attraction.

"Did you find your gloves?"

"Not yet." Forcing those images from her mind, from her blood, she shrugged. "But I'm sure they will turn up somewhere."

He returned his attention to the exhibit, moving on to the collection featuring Sky's playful colts, giving her the moment's reprieve she needed. He pointed out a shot of two colts at full stretch gallop, racing each other across the field, neck to neck. It was a vibrant, lively, colorful contrast to the winter shots.

"I want this one."

Diana blinked, unsure if she'd heard him right. "You want to buy it?"

"That's right."

A warm pool of pleasure settled low in her tummy, even as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but these are for exhibit only."

"They're not for sale? Why not?"

"They belong to Sky, actually. The whole family did me a big favor giving me free rein to shoot all over the estate. It wouldn't feel right to sell them. I don't have that right." Uncomfortable beneath the assessing intensity of his gaze, she hurried on. "Look, Max, there's no need to pretend interest or to buy my favors. It won't impress me or sway me."

"You think that's what I'm doing?"

"Isn't it?"

"You've turned into a cynic," he accused, although he looked amused by the discovery.

Diana didn't disagree. After yesterday's revelation, a combination of cynicism and suspicion seemed like the ideal attitude. "I have work to do. Is there anything else?"

"I'm having lunch with Nash and Patricia at the Fortune Hotel." One corner of his mouth kicked up into an appealing grin. "Why don't you join us?"

"I'd love to, but I have this work to finish. Important client. Prints promised for this afternoon. Sorry," she finished cheerfully, enjoying the perfect excuse a little more than necessary. It helped balance out the tingle in her blood caused by that grin and the disappointment in her stomach because her suspicions about his visit had been confirmed. It was a ruse, another attempt to woo her, not genuine interest in her work. "I really do need to get back to work, so I'll leave you to your browsing."

"Before you go, I want to make one thing clear."

Diana had taken a dozen brisk steps but now she stopped. Eyebrows elevated in question, she turned back.

"I didn't book you for the photography job to get you into bed."

There was a directness in his gaze that gave her a moment's pause--perhaps he was
sincere--but only a moment's. "I've done an excellent job on the photos," she
told him. "I know you and your parents will be very happy with the results. Does
it matter why you chose me?"

He closed down the space between them without breaking eye contact. Diana stood her ground despite the misgivings dancing all over her nerves.

"Yes, it matters," he said, stopping in front of her. "Come to lunch. Let me explain why. I'm sure this important client of yours will understand if his prints are late."

"I'm sorry, Max, but you'll have to do better than that."

Coolly, she turned and started to walk away. She felt his gaze tracking her every step but she maintained her composure. Even when he drawled his worrying rejoinder.

"Honey, I haven't even started yet."

Excerpt from BACK IN FORTUNE'S BED, Silhouette Desire® February 2007, ISBN 978-0-373-76777-9 © Bronwyn Jameson

The cover, blurb, full details and another excerpt are on my website.

posted by Bronwyn Jameson @ 10:29 AM 7 comments

* I'm usually a Christmas card fiend, but this year I've only sent out a few cards to friends and relatives. Unfortunately I ran out of time to send cards overseas but am working on a substitute.

* An advantage of the summer Christmas down under: shirts optional (see picture.)

* The advantage of last-week shopping: my credit card cutoff date is mid-month, so I will have another 30 days before I have to pay for any of these gifts.

* My favourite Christmas dessert is Xmas Pudding Ice Cream, with the added bonus that it's dead easy to make. Just soften a tub of vanilla ice-cream and add your choice of chopped dried fruits (I like to include some mango and apricot as well as the traditional sultanas etc), cherries, peel, toasted slivered almonds, some cinnamon and nutmeg, a dash of Baileys and Cointreau. Stir it all up. Refreeze. Enjoy.

* My favourite Christmas carol is O Holy Night, although I admit to a fondness for Little Drama Boy. What's your favourite?

* A Christmas joke, courtesy of the ever-fabulous Trish Morey:

Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by St. Peter at the pearly gates. "In honor of this holy season," St. Peter said, "You must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven."
The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on. "It represents a candle."
"You may enter the pearly gates," St. Peter replied.
The second man reached into his pockets and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, "They're bells."
St. Peter said, "You may pass through the pearly gates."
The third man started searching desperately through his pockets, finally pulling out a pair of women's panties.
St. Peter raised his eyebrows. "And just what do these represent?"
The man replied, "They're Carol's."

Boom-boom.

Happy Christmas, my friends!

Yes, I have started. First 3 gifts purchased. The tree is up and decorated, the lights twinkling merrily. Today I'm celebrating an early Christmas with my Mum and sisters, two of whom live a distance away and aren't coming home next weekend. Funny, that we all still think of the home town where we grew up as "home". I still live here, but they've lived away for decades yet still refer to this as home.

I love and embrace the concept of home and often find it seeping into my characters' internal conflicts, since we all need that grounding, that place, that state of mind that is home. But I digress. This post isn't about home--although that is a good topic which I must revisit on another day when I don't have to rush off and peel and slice for a potato bake. This post is about family and Christmas and sisters and the fact that my book is done and Donovan and Susannah can also enjoy this happy time together instead of brooding and spatting and attempting to out-manouevre each other.

I love long lunches with my family, the laughter, the wine, the food, the company. I loved the morning yesterday, spent choosing gifts for the people I love. And even though I hate peeling and thinly slicing potatoes, I am off to do so with a smile, anticipating the happy day ahead.

(I'm the one on the left of the photo, BTW, wearing--shudder--red bows with a pink dress. What was my mother thinking???)

There is just too much happening at the moment and so I'm going off-line until I get a few things are done. None of them have anything to do with Christmas. I'm in denial about it being December already. The most important task is finishing this book.

While I'm gone I've decided to run a little Omigod-It's-Almost-Christmas!!! giveaway. All you need do to enter the draw for a fun prize (I have no idea what, but it will be good!) is tell me why you think Donovan looks all brooding and thoughtful in this picture. Perhaps he's contemplating the fact that he's not even started on Christmas shopping, or cards, or organising where he's spending the holidays...although, no wait, he's the man and so he would never even think about doing any of that until Christmas Eve. (Or he'd just hand the whole task over to his P.A.)

Have fun. I will draw the winner on December 12.