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Interview with Wendy LaCapra
Susana: Any weird things you do when you’re alone?
Wendy: When my husband is traveling, I leave the hall lights (which are LED’s) on all night. I also tend to over-indulge in pasta J
Susana: What is your favorite quote and why?
Wendy: My day is made if I can quote Prince Humperdinck, “Skip to the end” or (and this is more rare) the Man in Black himself, “If we only had a wheelbarrow, now that would be something.”
Susana: Who is your favorite author and why?
Wendy: Can’t name just one. In romance I am a big fan of Gaelen Foley, Joanna Bourne, Mary Balogh & Eileen Dreyer to name just a few.
Susana: What, in your opinion, are the most important elements of good writing?
Wendy: I cannot dissect. I think different authors have different strengths (dialogue, characterization, great description, subtle use of narrative techniques) and if they lead with their strength the book they create is going to be fabulous.
Susana: Where did you get the idea for this book?
Wendy: I’m not sure. This series started with a snippit of research about the charge of petty treason, started to take form with more research on Lady Worsley, but when I started writing, all three Furies stepped on stage at once, fully formed. It may have taken some false starts to find Sophia’s match, but once she met Randolph, the rest of the story flowed.
About Lady Scandal
Sophia Baneham has lived in the poison of her dead father’s shadow for longer than she cares to admit. Now she exists outside of polite society’s influence, holding gambling parties for London’s most dangerous men. When a man walks into one of her soirees, a compelling mix of charisma and icy control, he offers the lady of sin a wager she can’t refuse…
Lord Randolph is a spy in the service of His Majesty, but he’s given an oath to protect the daughter of his mentor. Even as his gamble of marriage starts to spiral out of control and his passions ignite, Randolph is determined that he’ll handle things his way…
But when danger closes in, Randolph won’t just have to protect Sophia from an intended killer. He’ll have to protect her from himself…
He had never before failed in a mission. Never.
Clearly, he had been off his game and there was only one reason.
Before they had met, Randolph had thought of Sophia as an evil-made-necessary—a means to probe the secrets Baneham had left behind. But then she had turned her cornflower blue eyes on him and everything had changed.
…Hours after returning from India, he arrived at a Fury soiree—uninvited. Lady Sophia’s footman stuttered under his glower, but the man refused to grant him entry. No one could be admitted to the soiree, the man insisted, without approval of the hostess, even if accompanied, as Randolph was, by the hostess’s cousin.
He remained in the hall, suffering the indignity of his wait with hands clasped behind his back. The entry was hardly what he had expected of Baneham’s home. The man had been the epitome of male. These furnishings could only be described as—he suppressed an inward shudder—dainty.
He peered into the rooms beyond. The dandies within did nothing to dilute the feminine air. The library was a rainbow of velvet jackets and frothing cravats, topped with clouds of fluffed white wigs. Even from the distance, the scent proved this the motliest male collection of Eau du Cologne enthusiasts ever assembled.
“Cousin Charles has brought me a gift, I see.” Her voice sang over his veins the way the wind sang against lines of a hoisted sail—the song sank all the way into his cock.
The voice came from a petite, provocatively curved woman sewn into her pink silk bodice—he could think of no other way the fabric could fit so tight. Her hair powder was laced with a matching pink hue. She looked like strawberries and cream and, if he was permitted a taste of her lips, he was certain she’d be as mouthwateringly sweet.
Her gaze dropped from his face and traveled boldly down his body.
By Saint George, he wanted a sampling of her sweetness.
“Lord Randolph,” he said, “at your service.”
Her faint smile implied a flirtatious scold. “You do not have an invitation, Lord Randolph.”
“Soon remedied, I hope. I am recently returned from the continent.” She did not need to know which continent—nor how recently. “I have heard your soirees are the must-attend events for any London rake worth his salt.”
“Do you fancy yourself a rake, then, Lord Randolph?” She sounded hopeful, blast her sensual voice.
He leaned forward and whispered, “Issue me an invitation, sweetness, and I will provide any proof you may require.”
“No proof is required…” a faint, secret smile teased her mouth—both challenge and invitation, “at present.”
…It had been lust at first sight. She lit a carnal fire in his blood and the resulting burn was hotter and deeper than any he’d known.
About the Author
Wendy LaCapra, a 2012 Golden Heart® Finalist, has been reading romance since she discovered Victoria Holt (in the library’s adult section!) From that point on, her only dream was to create worlds with historical richness, intrigue and pleasure. She lives in NYC with her husband and can occasionally be found gossiping about history and romance with the Dashing Duchesses or burning up the web with those mystical mistresses of resilience, the GH class of 2012 aka the Firebirds.