Sunday, June 16, 2019

Returning with a different angle

Hi all

I've finally been able to make entries to this blog again — a technological glitch that locked me out of blogger and google for several years. But now I'm back. And I'm thinking that as well as my blog that's linked to my website, I might run another blog that's for writers, rather than readers, with an emphasis on craft-of-writing and other writing-related topics.

What do you think?
Is it a good idea? Would you be interested?

If you prefer a more general blog, you can follow my other blog, here, and sign up to have new entries emailed to you.

Friday, January 22, 2016

My Blog Has Shifted

I have a brand new beeeyoutiful website and to make my blog compatible with it, I've transferred over to Wordpress, so this will be my last post here. The new blog address is

http://www.annegracie.com/blog/

Come over and have a look at my site. The figure of the Regency girl is an original watercolor painted by my friend Melanie Scott, who is also a writer (fantasy under MJ Scott and contemporary romance as Melanie Scott.) Here's a small part of it. It's so pretty. She's very talented, I think.

http://www.annegracie.com/

Thanks so much for reading this blog and following me and leaving comments. I hope you enjoy the new blog and site.
Anne xx

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

I'm going to Romantic Times.

I'm getting a gorgeous new website, and as part of that process, I'm moving to another blogging platform, so it will all be coordinated. This will be one of the last posts from this site, but I wanted to get this news in before we move.

I'm going to the RT convention in Las Vegas April. I'm so excited — it will be my first RT convention.


I'm going to be on a "Meet the Authors from Downunder" reader event with my friends Keri Arthur,  Nalini Singh, and Khloe Wren. They're all paranormal writers (and fabulous ones, too) so I'll be the odd one out, the lone historical writer in the group. That's on the Wednesday.

And on the Thursday afternoon, I'm going to be on a hero panel "Rakes Rogues and Warrior Poets" with my friends and fellow historical romance writers, Mary Jo Putney and Patricia Rice.

I'll be signing with Berkley, too. The full program is here.

I'm really looking forward to catching up with author friends, readers and meeting new people.
Hope to see you there.


Saturday, January 16, 2016

I finalled!

The 2015 Australian Romance Readers Association (ARRA) Awards have been announced. These awards are where members of ARRA nominate and vote on the books they most enjoyed during the previous year.

I'm delighted to have made the finals list in five categories:

Favourite Historical Romance
The Spring Bride by Anne Gracie

Favourite Continuing Romance Series
Chance Sisters series by Anne Gracie
Favourite Australian Romance Author 2015
Anne Gracie
Favourite Cover from a romance published in 2015
The Spring Bride by Anne Gracie
The Strongest Heroine from a romance published in 2015

Jane Chance in The Spring Bride by Anne Gracie
You can see the full list of finalists here:
The awards will be presented to the winners on March 19 at a special dinner in Sydney. You can book here.

Thank you to ARRA for organizing these wonderful awards, to the readers who nominated my books (and me) and congratulations to all the other finalists.





Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Sunday, November 1, 2015

#FallBackInTime

I'm joining in the celebration of #FallBackInTime, where historical romance authors post selfies with their own books and readers post pics of themselves with some fave historical romances.

It's a great promotion, designed to promote a subgenre rather than an individual author, so jump in and have a go. And don't forget to include the hashtag -- #FallBackInTime

Here's me as a writer with a couple of my own books.

And here's me as a reader with a couple of my favorite Georgette Heyer novels.

And here are some of my childhood faves—historicals, though not all romances.
I hope you share some of your own faves.



Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Mistletoe Kisses

Do you like Christmas stories? I love them, and this year I have a story in a Christmas anthology by The Word Wenches — the group of historical romance authors I regularly blog with —  Mary Jo Putney, Jo Beverley, Patricia Rice, Joanna Bourne, Nicola Cornick, Cara Elliott and Susan King. 

My story is called Mistletoe Kisses, and it's about Allie Fenton, a young woman who, for various reasons, has never been able to attend a ball. Now orphaned and on the shelf, she's planning to become a teacher at a girl's seminary in Bath. But first there's her last Christmas at home and then, Lady Holly's famous annual Christmas ball. 

Here's a short excerpt:

"You'll come to my Christmas ball, then," Lady Holly told her. "Don't bother trying to think up any excuses — you're coming and that's that. Your year of mourning will be up, and you have no reason to stay here moldering away when I've gathered an excellent range of eligible gentlemen for your perusal."

Allie laughed. "For my perusal? As if I'm going shopping?"

"That's exactly what you'll be doing."

"Don't the gentlemen have any say in it?"

The old lady sniffed. "Women have been making men believe they have a choice for generations. Now don't be frivolous, Allie — I am determined to give you one last chance to find a husband before you go off and bury yourself in this, this school of yours." She pronounced 'school' as if she really meant 'zoo.'

Allie smiled. For all her caustic tone, Lady Holly had a very kind heart. "I would love to attend your ball, Lady Holly. . . "

The old lady frowned. "I hear a 'but' coming."

"Not really—I would truly love to dance and flirt and be madly frivolous, and your Christmas balls are legendary, and you know I've never been able to attend. But the only ball dresses I have were made for the eighteen-year-old me, and not the seven-and-twenty version. Alas" — Allie indicated her hips and bosom and grimaced — "I'm no longer the slender young thing I was."

Lady Holly snorted. "You were a scrawny young twig back then — no bosom or hips to speak of. Now you've a fine womanly figure. Besides, I've thought of that. Took the liberty of getting a dress made for you — left the box with Meadows. It should fit — got Mrs. Meadows to take your measurements from one of your current dresses."

Allie blinked in surprise. "You had a dress made for me? A ball dress?"

"Now don't get all stiff-necked on me, Allie Fenton," the old lady said in a fierce tone that didn't deceive Allie for an instant. "I was very fond of your dear mother and this is for her, as much as for you. She was so looking forward to your making your come-out and was devastated that her illness prevented it." 

"I'm not being stiff-necked, truly I'm not. I'm just. . . surprised." There was a lump in Allie's throat. She was deeply touched by the old lady's brusque kindness. And thoughtfulness. A ball dress. . . 

Lady Holly reached over and patted her hand. "Now don't look like that, my dear — I promised your mother I'd see you dancing in the arms of a handsome man, and though circumstances have prevented it in the past — and I quite see that it would have been the height of impropriety for you to go dancing when first your mother and then your father lay dying — there is nothing to prevent you now, and you will come to my ball!" 

Allie smiled mistily. "Just like Cinderella. And you've even provided the gown." 

SNIP . . . . 

The parcel, tied with string and wrapped in brown paper, lay on her bed. She untied the string and under the wrapping paper found an elegant box with a stylish gold emblem on the front. She swallowed. This was no dress from the village seamstress — it was from Lady Holly's own London mantua maker.

She eased off the lid, parted the layers of protective tissue paper and gasped. Almost holding her breath, she drew the dress from its nest of tissue. It was beautiful. 

The underdress was a light shimmering lilac shade that she just knew would go perfectly with both her recent mourning, and also her coloring. But the lovely silk underdress was quite cast in the shade by the delicate overdress in some kind of gauzy fabric through which the lilac silk shimmered. Embroidered here and there with tiny rosebuds in silver thread, it was finished with bands of delicately gathered silver lace around the hem and at the elbows of the puffed sleeves, and a line of silver embroidery around the neck.

In the box, hidden beneath the dress, was underwear — not the kind of underwear that Allie had ever in her life worn — delicate, lacy, flimsy, exquisite underwear — a chemise, a petticoat, the daintiest, most feminine drawers, and even a corset. All were trimmed with lace, and everything but the corset was practically transparent. Almost scandalous. 

She remembered Lady Holly's comment that she had the figure of a woman now, not a girl. Allie had never really given it much thought. But now . . . these were certainly underclothes for a woman, not a girl. Smiling to herself, she put the lovely, naughty underclothes back in the box. She'd probably die a spinster, but she would treasure these forever.

She picked up the dress again, held it against her body and turned to gaze at her reflection in the looking glass. It was the most beautiful dress she'd ever owned. And it suited her perfectly. The lilac color complemented her pale complexion and her dark hair, and even seemed to make her very ordinary gray eyes look almost exotic. The silver thread gleamed and shimmered in the light. It was a dress made for dancing. . .

How many years since she'd danced? And never at a ball.

Delight bubbled up in her. After what felt like years wearing mourning black and gray, this dress felt like a breath of spring. And yet even the highest sticklers could not look askance at her — lavender and lilac were approved colors for half mourning.

But would it fit? She stripped off her old black gown and, holding her breath, she carefully slipped the ball gown over her head. And breathed. It was perfect. It was more than perfect.

She gazed at her reflection, gave a sudden laugh and twirled around and around, as if she were a giddy, carefree girl again.

She felt just like Cinderella. And she was going to the ball.

                    cccccccccccccc

The LAST CHANCE CHRISTMAS BALL comes out on 29th September 2015. 
Buy it from your favorite bookshop, or try one of these links: