Denise is here to chat with us, share an excerpt of BEFORE THE DAWN and is offering a prize for one lucky blog commentator (details below).
I highly recommend this beautifully written historical.
The chemistry between Elijah and Mary Jane is strong from the moment they meet, increasing with every encounter. A tortured hero, a strong heroine, both vulnerable and in danger, makes for high suspense, sizzling sexual tension and great love scenes.
Interview with Denise Agnew:
Selena: If you could go into a travel machine, which time period would you travel to and why?
Denise: I’d travel between 1890 to 1910 during what was considered first a Guided Age and then a Golden Age. From 1890 to 1900 was a time of great opulence and from 1900 to 1910 many people considered it an ideal time of peace and harmony before the Great War started (World War I) and the Spanish Flu. Realistically speaking we know that everything wasn’t peachy keen during those times, but the clothing and a lot of things during that twenty year time period fascinates me. As for where I’d travel, I’d do a first leg through the United States and then do it all over again in Great Britain and Ireland.
Selena: Pick four writers you would love to sit around, have lunch and discuss writing. Who would they be and why?
Denise: Four? Yowza. If they didn’t have to all be living…
Well, I’d chat with Edgar Allan Poe first. He’s a favorite. I’ve always loved dark and gloomy tales with paranormal as a major element and Edgar really knew how to create that ambiance. Plus, he’s a very tortured character himself, and I’d like to see what he was really like. Next might be H. P. Lovecraft because of his terrifying tales. Dean Koontz also intrigues me, and I’d love to talk with him about writing. And last but not least it would be a fight to pick the brains of more than one romance author because I have dozens of favorites. I’d have to choose between Barbara Samuel and Connie Brockway because they both wrote what I’d consider to be two of my favorite historical romances ever, Lucien’s Fall (Samuel) and As You Desire (Connie Brockway).
Selena: What theme song would you allocate for Before the Dawn?
Denise: The theme song that is on the trailer right now: Constancy by Kevin MacLeod.
Selena: That trailer captures the story perfectly. For any of you who haven’t had a chance to see it, visit Denise’s websiteit’s extremely well done. Back to the interview: What is the most fascinating thing you discovered while researching Before the Dawn?
Denise: The railroad system between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia at that time included rail cars that traveled as boats on part of the journey. Yep, that’s right. You’ll have to read the book to find out how.
Selena: What would you like to know about the future?
Denise: I’m not sure I want to know anything. I believe we shape our own future, so it’s variable. I believe humans get premonitions because I do, but as for knowing something with absolute certainty…don’t think I want to know.
Selena: What’s up next for your writing career?
Denise: I’m self publishing a couple of backlist books later this year. I have a trilogy with historical and paranormal elements that I hope will start coming out early next year, and I’m very excited about those stories. I’ll trickle out details on my website as they become available, and I have a clearer picture on where and when these books are to be published.
Elijah McKinnon has been found innocent of a heinous murder, but it doesn’t erase the hellish years in prison he endured. He boards the train to Pittsburgh a changed man, certain he will never feel free until he’s wreaked revenge on the brother who ruined his life.
The passenger who catches his eye is intriguing, but he’s seen her kind before. The kind who puts on airs—and looks down on Irishmen. Still, he can’t seem to stop himself from stepping between her and a pack of ruthless cads.
Mary Jane Lawson is grateful for the handsome stranger’s help, but her journey has a higher purpose: to rise above her shattered reputation and declare her independence, come flood or famine. Propriety says she should refuse Elijah’s suggestion they pose as husband and wife—for her own protection, of course. Her practical side says it won’t hurt to pretend, just this once.
A hot Irish accent mixed with high adventure may cause combustion. Beware of falling for this hunk. The heroine says he’s hers.
She stumbled along in his wake, no energy to ask why they pushed onward into the woods where no one from the train could help them. Thinking that far ahead caused more trepidation, so she concentrated on planting one shoe in front of the other. After what seemed an endless time, a rocky outcropping and massive hill rose in front of them.
“Thank the saints.” He tugged her forward. “Here.” He released her hand long enough to shove aside shrubbery and reveal a tall opening. She saw his throat work as he swallowed hard. “Damnation. I don’t want to go in here, but we must. I’ll go first, you follow.”
His voice snapped like a general, and she flinched. His eyes went hard, unyielding.
The darkness beyond the crevice appeared to be a wide mouth without teeth. What horrors lay inside? Unreasoning fear stilled her courage. She sucked in a quick breath. If Elijah could conquer his apprehension, so could she.
He crawled in, headfirst. When he disappeared into the maw, all went quiet. Even the wind didn’t stir, and the rain stopped. Her entire body quaked. Nightmares of deep, unknown places from childhood tormented her from the edges. They beckoned, dared her to stay brave and to remain sane.
Elijah’s hand came out and then his head. “It’s larger than I thought. It’s a deep rock shelter.”
She clasped his hand and leaned down. He released her once she started inside. She crawled on hands and knees and discovered enough headroom to stand and several feet on both sides. Light penetrated from a large crack in the ceiling.
He inched around in front of her and made certain the hole stayed thoroughly covered by the foliage. Turning back, he stopped. He put one finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. He pulled his weapon from the inner waistcoat pocket and held it, prepared for use. They stayed that way for several minutes. Time stretched in front of her, an eternity of waiting, of anxiety ridden breaths and heart pounding apprehension. Safety still felt far removed. Now that they had stopped running, she heard her own breath rasping, her heart pounding in her ears as her body slowed. Reaction came without remorse. Tears flowed and fell to her cheeks. She regulated her breath by slow turns, and yet her body remained tense. After what seemed an eternity, he made his way past her and sat against one wall. He gestured for her to come closer.
She eased towards him on her hands and knees, her crinoline bunching up in the way. Frustrated, she frowned. She never hated fashion more than this moment.
“Take off the crinoline. We’re leaving it and the corset behind,” he said.
She hesitated and then realized the wisdom in his request. Mary Jane rose to her feet. “Help me. I have to remove the dress first.”
He nodded, his face etched with a harsh determination. She turned away from him. Methodically he unbuttoned the back of the dress while she pulled the hatpins out of her hat and hair. As his fingers moved, a fleeting thought raced by. Even in these desperate moments of flight, his fingers brushing with heat through dress, corset and chemise somehow made her incredibly aware of him as a man. Then the thought fled.
She tossed the pins in a corner and flung the hat aside. She was surprised the thing had not fallen off before now. Her dress stuck to her, sodden with rain and made the buttons more difficult to undo. She would have to dress in it again once she removed the corset and crinoline, but what choice did she have? Before she knew it the shoulders and the tight sleeves eased away from her skin. Eager, she pulled the garment off her arms until she peeled it all the way down and it fell around her waist. She wriggled to shove it off her hips. She stepped out of the dress and worked on the ties that held the crinoline in place. As they remained quiet, a sense of urgency filled the air. They must hurry in case his brother found them and they must fight. She shoved the horsehair padding downward, and he came around to the front and knelt in front of her.
“Here,” he whispered. “Lift your legs one at a time, and I’ll pull it off.”
She complied, and quicker than she expected, Elijah crumpled the nuisance and shoved it into a corner. Without speaking he returned to stand behind her and made short work of the corset laces. When it loosened around her ribs, she sucked in a breath. That felt so much better. Though she never worn her corset particularly tight, removing the garment was liberating. She took one deep breath after another. When he loosened it completely, he pulled it over her head. It, too, went into the corner.
Now that she stood in nothing but chemise, pantalets, stockings and boots, she trembled with cold. His hands rested on her shoulders for a second, and then he turned her around.
His eyes had lost their harshness, but they held no awareness of her as a woman. He had shut down for the fight, all efficiency in the face of danger. “I know the dress is cold and wet, but you have to put it back on. If they find us here…”
She put her fingers over his lips. For a few unguarded seconds, his eyes flared. She’d never imagined green eyes could burn this bright and hot with emotion. Quickly he shut it off, like a flame doused under a rush of water. He helped her back into the dress, which went much faster.
Once done, he sat, propped his back against the wall and stared at her. He drew up one leg and propped his forearm on his knee. With his disheveled hair, sweat beading on his forehead, and a harsh look in his eyes, he looked every inch the dastardly criminal. Part of her wanted to run from him too. After all, she was in this predicament because his brother had a vendetta with Elijah. His rumpled waistcoat hung open, dirt and something red smeared over one side. Worry speared her.
She sank to her knees in the damp earth in front of him. She grabbed the lapels of his waistcoat and parted them. “You are bleeding.”
“No. I’m not. That’s the blood of the man I killed.”
Her lips parted but nothing came out at first. She struggled with her words. “We both… I hit that man with a rock, Elijah. I killed him.”
“I know, darlin’.” His voice softened, the rough understanding lowering his husky voice. “I know.”
More tears came, and as they rained down, her face crumpled.
“Shhh…” He reached for her and pulled her into his lap.
He cuddled her close, his powerful arms providing shelter she desperately craved. She wept quietly, holding back the rage screaming fear. She shuddered and quaked. She saw a misery in his gaze, a genuine sorrow. She touched his face and felt the bristle of beard growing there. In those quiet moments, Mary Jane heard nothing more than gentle breaths, felt nothing more than his heat beneath her, cradling and comforting.
Understanding, like that she had witnessed before, warmed his eyes and softened his visage. His lips parted. She stared at that handsome mouth and wanted it on hers with undeniable desperation.
Closer, closer still, he tilted towards her until…his mouth touched hers with exquisite gentleness. When her lips parted under pressure, his tongue pushed inside. Retreated. Caressed. Owned her mouth with sweet, deep thrusts. She arched into that kiss, breath puffing into him, mouth moving in response, tongue tangling in carnal dance.
Elijah broke away with a gasp, eyes still blazing.
He leaned closer until he whispered in her ear. “If we were anywhere else and completely safe, you would be beneath me. Naked.”
Blunt as his words were, they excited Mary Jane and made her forget their harrowing flight.
“But we can’t.” His burning gaze lingered on her mouth, then recaptured her eyes. “I would put you in danger, and that’s the last thing I want. Promise me something.”
“Anything.” The word, so definitive and complete, left her throat without a pause.
“If they find us here and anything happens to me, you fight with everything in you. You fight to live. You understand?”
“No—I— you are not going to die.” Her voice broke. “That will not happen.”
“If there’s one thing I learned incarcerated in Eastern State, it was that bad things happen and you cannot always stop them. If that bad thing happens, and I cannot keep you safe…you do what you need in order to live.” His gaze was fierce and demanding. “You understand me?”
“Yes.” The excruciating thought twisted a hot knife in her breast. “Yes.”
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Denise has graciously offered to give away a gift certificate. To be eligible to win, please post a comment or ask Denise a question on the blog.
Thank you for joining us, Denise.
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Until next time. . . . .