I’m a Scot living in Scotland with a husband and two daughters, and I’ve written since I was like seven or something. But I also love mountain climbing.
A little more about Shehanne Moore:
- What do you think reader will enjoy most about your novel?
Lol. I hope they’ll like the fact it’s a battle of the sexes cos let’s face it they do battle don’t they?
- What makes your novel unique? Why should I buy it?
In addition to fact the heroine creates these bedroom rules to ensure the encounters have no fizz, the heroine and hero have a complex backstory and difficult backgrounds so I’m looking at how that shapes a person too.
- How long did it take you to write the novel verses revising it?
It took me four months, then one month to revise.
- What has been your path to success?
Pretty long, winding and rocky. It’s included doing every kind of writing going, being contracted by firms that went bust, to having a writing partner who got greedy.
- What do you see as your next project and when can we expect it?
I’m waiting to start edits on His Judas Bride which is set in Scotland…long ago and far away.
- Describe yourself in three words.
I’d rather not.
Short summary of The Unraveling Lady Fury:
Rule one… There will be no kissing
Widowed Lady Fury Shelton hasn’t lost everything yet. So long as she produces the heir to the Beaumont dukedom, she might keep her position and her secrets. But when the callously irresistible man she’d rather rot in everlasting hell, than bed, threatens to expose her, she invents bedroom rules to stop herself wanting the one thing she knows he can never give her.
Rule two… There will be no touching
Only when it comes to rules, ex-privateer James Flint Blackmoore is a master at making his own. Soon he’s playing with fire. Both know future happiness can only lie in keeping each other at arm’s length. Yet they’re torn by old hurts and the promise of new passion.
But some rules are made to be broken…
Why is she so determined to hate him? Will her secret truth make it easier or harder for him to abide by the rules? Or will Flint finally convince her he can give her the one thing he never has?
A short excerpt: (a short excerpt from your book to entice readers) All the more reason then to just get going. After all this time, sweetheart, you don’t know how eager I am.”
He strode across the tiled floor and the ink trailed a long dark path across the paper as he dragged her to her feet. Had it blobbed it might have been something to worry about. But she was very set on this. And calm. As calm as one could be having this man in her bedroom, knowing what was coming next out of dire necessity, her husband in a box in the cellar and her cast off, potential lovers on their way out the door.
“No, James.” She held a hand up between their lips. “There will be no kissing.”
“No kissing? Why in hell not?”
It displaced her calm to see him grin. She would have preferred that he was indignant. Especially as he was a man who thought he could settle all his arguments—with women anyway—with a kiss. But she kept her face cold, blank.
“Because.” In some ways she was cold. Cold with rage.
“Aw, come on Fury, didn’t you like my kissing? Hmm?” His breath, hot and male, brushed her fingertips. He wrapped his arms around her, splaying his hands across her back, so her hand might as well not have been there for all the protection it was.
But she was calm. Didn’t she have to get into bed with him after all? So, even the impulse to squirm was one she would squash. When she thought of all he had done to her, she would give him nothing. Not even the knowledge she found his proximity so unsettling that she sought to pull away.
“Your kissing was fine, in its way, I suppose. But kissing is a sign of affection.”
“How do you make that out?”
She knew exactly why he scratched his head. Their love-making had been torrid. It had been sensual. It had been shaming. And it had been absent of any affection. Certainly on his part. So, why on earth would a kiss be a sign of anything? To him anyway. She was the damn fool who had thought it had. Who even now was forced to concede the pleasure it would be to take her hand across his face to assist his understanding of her feelings. The impertinence of the damn man, the stinging ignorance.
“It just is.” She eased the distance between them a whisper. “So there will be none. Not now. Not at all.”
“All right then. Saves time. It means—”
“Rule two.” She saw his eyes freeze as he readied himself to yank off his shirt. She persisted anyway. Why not? In many ways she walked a tightrope here. If she paused it might be to her detriment. “You will be fully dressed at all times.”
“What? How the hell am I meant to—”
“I am sure you will manage. You managed plenty before. But I do not desire to look at your body before, during, or after. Nor in any shape or form wandering about this house in just your breeches. Is that understood?”
He dropped his hands from his shirt and glared, so he must have. “You wanted to look at it plenty before. In fact, it makes my head spin, just how often you—”
True. But that was then. “Rule three.” Clasping her fingers around the cool edge of the dressing table to create another inch of distance, she continued.
“Rule three? You mean there’s more?”
“I will not touch you in any place, intimate or otherwise. I will lie. You will perform.”
Buy the book!
Follow Shehanne Moore: