I like comedy and I like Regency. So, when I decided to
write a romance, naturally I wrote regencies, and comedy became an integral
part of each tale.
And my comedy is not the type for wan smiles, but has some pretty
wacky stuff.
There’s An Inheritance for the Birds, where the hero must
compete with his late great-aunt’s companion in order to inherit her estate.
Their task: make the deceased lady’s pet ducks happy. Are you kidding? How do
you make ducks happy? Quack at them? Well, my hero and heroine must figure out
how to make waterfowl happy, waterfowl that have names like Obadiah, Ulrick,
Urania and Felizarda, to name a few.
Or how about Gifts Gone Astray, where the heroine gives the
hero a gift--a book on a subject in which they share an interest. The hero is
flattered beyond words--until he opens the book. Hell and the devil, how could
such a demure lady have an interest in this?
Then there’s Mistletoe Everywhere, a Christmas story in which
the hero sees mistletoe over the lady who jilted him, or whom he jilted (who’s
right?), and no one else can see the plant. Is the hero insane or making
everything up? Why would he? If nothing else, he becomes the butt of mistletoe
jokes.
In Pumpkinnapper, someone’s stealing the heroine’s pumpkins
and the hero, Henry, decides to catch the culprit. Trouble is, the heroine’s
large, mean pet goose, also named Henry, is very attached to his mistress and
takes umbrage. Henry the man has no choice but to compete with Henry the goose for
the heroine’s affections. Quite a comedown for a young, rich, handsome
nobleman, especially since the goose usually gets the upper hand.
Lady of the Stars is my time travel, and sparks as well as
comedy flies when the twenty-first century heroine goes back to the Regency to
meet the hero. Comedy comes from the juxtaposition of incongruities. The hero
has trouble understanding her speech. The heroine can’t understand why everyone
has to wear hats. And is that a chamber pot under her bed?
You can find humor in some of the most unexpected places.
Blurbs and excerpts are available on my website, http://www.lindabanche.com
My books are
available at The Wild Rose Press,
All Romance Ebooks, Barnes and Noble, Amazon and other places ebooks are sold.
To give you an idea of my writing, here's the blurb and excerpt for An Inheritance for the Birds.
BLURB:
Make the ducks happy and win an estate!
Mr. Christopher "Kit" Winnington can't believe the letter from his late great-aunt's solicitor. In order to inherit her estate, he must win a contest against her companion, Miss Angela Stratton. Whoever makes his great-aunt's pet ducks happy wins.
A contest: What a cork-brained idea. This Miss Stratton is probably a sly spinster who camouflaged her grasping nature from his good-natured relative. There is no way he will let the estate go to a usurper.
Angela never expected her former employer to name her in her will. Most likely, this Mr. Winnington is a trumped-up jackanapes who expects her to give up without a fight. Well, she is made of sterner stuff.
The ducks quack in avian bliss while Kit and Angela dance a duet of desire as they do their utmost to make the ducks--and themselves--happy.
EXCERPT:
Yawning, he shut the door behind him. Enough ducks and prickly ladies for one day. After dropping his satchel by the bed, he dragged off his clothes and draped them over the chair back. He dug a nightshirt from the valise and donned the garment before he blew out both candles.
Bates had already drawn back the bedclothes. The counterpane was soft under Kit's palm, and covered a featherbed. He grinned. By any chance, had they used the down from the pet ducks to stuff the mattress and pillows?
After tying the bed curtains back, he settled into the soft cocoon and laced his fingers behind his head. Tomorrow, he would have it out with Miss Stratton about the steward's residence, but that was tomorrow. He fluffed up his pillow and turned onto his side…
"QUACK!"
A bundle of flapping, squawking feathers exploded from the depths of the covers and attacked him. Throwing his arms over his head for protection, Kit fell out of bed. He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door, the thrashing, quacking explosion battering him. A serrated knife edge scraped over his upper arm. "Ow!" Batting at the avian attacker with one hand, he groped for the latch with the other.
The door swung open. Miss Stratton, her candle flame flickering, dashed into the chamber. "Esmeralda, you stop that right now!"
The feathered windstorm quacked once more and, in a graceful arc, fluttered to the floor.
Kit lowered his arms and gave a mental groan. A duck. He should have known.
Have fun.
To give you an idea of my writing, here's the blurb and excerpt for An Inheritance for the Birds.
BLURB:
Make the ducks happy and win an estate!
Mr. Christopher "Kit" Winnington can't believe the letter from his late great-aunt's solicitor. In order to inherit her estate, he must win a contest against her companion, Miss Angela Stratton. Whoever makes his great-aunt's pet ducks happy wins.
A contest: What a cork-brained idea. This Miss Stratton is probably a sly spinster who camouflaged her grasping nature from his good-natured relative. There is no way he will let the estate go to a usurper.
Angela never expected her former employer to name her in her will. Most likely, this Mr. Winnington is a trumped-up jackanapes who expects her to give up without a fight. Well, she is made of sterner stuff.
The ducks quack in avian bliss while Kit and Angela dance a duet of desire as they do their utmost to make the ducks--and themselves--happy.
EXCERPT:
Yawning, he shut the door behind him. Enough ducks and prickly ladies for one day. After dropping his satchel by the bed, he dragged off his clothes and draped them over the chair back. He dug a nightshirt from the valise and donned the garment before he blew out both candles.
Bates had already drawn back the bedclothes. The counterpane was soft under Kit's palm, and covered a featherbed. He grinned. By any chance, had they used the down from the pet ducks to stuff the mattress and pillows?
After tying the bed curtains back, he settled into the soft cocoon and laced his fingers behind his head. Tomorrow, he would have it out with Miss Stratton about the steward's residence, but that was tomorrow. He fluffed up his pillow and turned onto his side…
"QUACK!"
A bundle of flapping, squawking feathers exploded from the depths of the covers and attacked him. Throwing his arms over his head for protection, Kit fell out of bed. He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door, the thrashing, quacking explosion battering him. A serrated knife edge scraped over his upper arm. "Ow!" Batting at the avian attacker with one hand, he groped for the latch with the other.
The door swung open. Miss Stratton, her candle flame flickering, dashed into the chamber. "Esmeralda, you stop that right now!"
The feathered windstorm quacked once more and, in a graceful arc, fluttered to the floor.
Kit lowered his arms and gave a mental groan. A duck. He should have known.
Have fun.
Thank you all,
Linda
Linda Banche
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!





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