By
Sabrina York
I think perhaps my favorite film of all time is Camelot. You know, the 1967 musical version with Richard Harris and Vanessa Redgrave that tells the tale of the marriage of England's King Arthur to Guinevere, and the betrayal and broken hearts that follow.
This is the movie that sparked my passion for historical romance. Oh, the pageantry, the romance, the song—and surely people did spontaneously burst into song in the olden days—it stirred something powerful and evocative in my young breast.
The first time I saw this film was from the back of a Rambler station wagon. Mom wanted to see it and Dad was brave enough to take her—and “the girls”—to the drive in. While my sisters crawled around on the faded carpet picking out escaped Jujubes, I stared at the screen enthralled by the story, the costumes, the dashing heroes of yore.
When the movie ended and we were driving home, I lay on my back on the Jujube-strewn carpet—we didn’t actually use seatbelts in 1967—and stared up at the sky, wrapped in the emotions of that story. And something caught my eye. Hanging low in the sky was the most beautiful harvest moon. It was orange and round and enormous. It was so perfect, I wondered if it was real, or part of the movie I’d just seen. In my young mind, it seemed to be as flawless, as beautiful as the story I’d just lived.
That moment stuck in my mind. Even now I can see that stunning moon, relive the feelings I had experiencing my first true romance.
Any wonder that I grew up to want to recreate that moment?
I’ve always been drawn to romance, especially historical romance, with flawed, tormented characters, struggling to overcome some deep lingering pain. Pain that only love can conquer. Oh, I’ve written plenty of stories with steamy sex and snarky humor, but my true love has been always historical romance. Because of Camelot.
As an erotic author, I am particularly fascinated with the Regency period, especially how the stultifying restrictions of that era provide a sharp counterpoint to simmering sensuality.
I had to write an erotic Regency. I was delighted when it sold to the Ellora’s Cave Legend line.
Folly is the story of Eleanor, Lady Ulster and Ethan Pennington—enemies who have been deeply wounded by the same cruel man. Enemies who can only find redemption in each others’ arms.Read an excerpt of Folly and comment on this blog to win a free copy.
Widowed and threatened with penury by her heartless in-laws, Eleanor—Lady Ulster—hatches a plot to save herself. Determined to produce the Ulster “heir”, she seduces a stranger at a tawdry masquerade. Little does she know, this magnificent masked lover is none other than her husband’s greatest nemesis. And God knows Ulster had plenty.
Ethan Pennington is mortified to arrive at a house party and discover Lady Ulster in attendance. He has wanted her and hated wanting her—his enemy’s bride—for years. When he overhears Eleanor’s predicament and her plans to place a cuckoo in the Ulster nest, he is more than willing to oblige. The opportunity to finally claim her—while taking the revenge he craves—is more than he can resist. Ethan strikes a bargain with Eleanor, promising to provide her with the heir she so desperately needs…if she will meet his needs in return. Every decadent one of them.
When he realizes she is the mysterious stranger who stole his heart on a moonlit night, thoughts of revenge melt away beneath the hope for something more. A fleeting affair becomes a seductive courtship, and then a desperate pursuit as Ethan realizes…he is running out of time to win her.
About the Author:
Connect with Sabrina at http://sabrinayork.com/ on Twitter at @sabrina_york and on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks.
