Review: Cheryl Bolen’s A Most Discreet Inquiry

In this second installment of Cheryl Bolen’s Regent Mysteries, Captain Jack Dryden receives another urgent summons to come to the aid of the Prince Regent–on Jack’s wedding day.  The call comes after the ceremony, but Jack and Lady Daphne find their wedding night postponed as he reports for duty.

With Jack caught up in the search for a missing list of British traitors, Daphne agrees to help her sister Cornelia, the Duchess of Lankersham, retrieve the passionate letters she unwisely wrote to a now-dead officer, which have fallen into the hands of a blackmailer.

As circumstances conspire to delay that longed-for wedding night, Daphne and Jack discover that their investigations are connected, and that their arch-enemy, the French spy d’Arblier, is involved.

Jack and Daphne’s discreet inquiries are hampered by family misunderstandings, French spies who would prefer to see them both dead, and an eager but incompetent cook.

Will Jack find the missing papers before d’Arblier finds him?  Will Daphne find a competent housekeeper before they starve?  And will Daphne and Jack ever have their wedding night?

Turn on your Kindle, Nook or tablet to read A Most Discreet Inquiry for the answers, and enjoy another adventure with the most charming of Regency detectives.

I once spent a summer in a hammock in New Orleans reading Agatha Christie novels, and I’ve probably read every novel Christie wrote.  Jack and Daphne remind me of Christie’s Tommy and Tuppence Beresford, transplanted backward a century or so to the Regency period.  Christie wrote five novels about the Beresfords; I hope we’ll see more of the Drydens, too.

One Hundred Days and (Not) Counting

Yesterday was Day 100 on the hundred words/hundred days trail, and I’m going to stop counting for a while.  I won’t stop writing–if I could do that, I would have done it long ago–but I want a day off now and then.  I’ve mostly been editing, anyway, getting Bathtub Jinn into shape, and how do I measure that?  So much time with the manuscript on my lap?  So many pages marked up?  It’s all on the honor system, anyway.

The cast of Bathtub Jinn includes a cat, a wise-cracking pooka and witch’s familiar who plays an important supporting role.  His name is Porthos, although the hero insists on calling him Porky, and he’s black with golden eyes, in the tradition of the pooka, battle-scarred from several years of living among feral cats.  One of my critique partners, Carl Miller, however, is convinced that Porthos is an orange tabby, and last night he sent me this (uncredited) picture, saying: “Spotted one of your lead characters, in repose.”  It’s not Porthos, but it’s a great cat.

This morning when I spent $36 on slightly more than 9 gallons of gas, I thought of this list that I clipped out of a local paper recently.  No attribution, but I must  admit that I remember at least some of these numbers from fifty years ago:

  • average cost of a house: $13,500
  • average annual wages: $6,450
  • average cost of a gallon of gas: 31 cents
  • average monthly cost to rent a house: $118
  • average cost of a loaf of bread: 21 cents
  • average cost of a new car: $2,650
  • Dow Jones Industrial Average: 969

I’ve been pretty good about not buying actual paper books lately, but I’ve downloaded a few to the Kindle:  His Lordship’s Vow, a short Regency romance by my buddy Cheryl Bolen, Skies of Fire, a steampunk romance by Zoe Archer, and two books about writing by Holly Lisle, Professional Plot Outline Mini-Course and Mugging the Muse.  Sigh.  I now have 98 books on my Kindle.  I’ll never catch up.

The Golden Heart Revisited

I opened this little establishment almost a year ago, shortly after I learned that one of my manuscripts (Paper Hearts) was a finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® contest.  The Golden Heart is a Big Deal in the romance world, and I was thrilled.  I went to the RWA National Conference in New York City and had a wonderful time, met lots of people, and watched a cop on horseback plant a parking ticket on a UPS truck while I ate an overstuffed reuben on the sidewalk at Junior’s.

Eventually life returned to normal, and I kept writing.  I finished (with a writing marathon Thanksgiving week) my newest manuscript, Bathtub Jinn, and then I took a break for a few weeks.  We like to call that “filling the well,” which sounds as good as any other excuse. 

On New Year’s Day, my hundred word group started a new stretch, and I began a new story.  I wrote about twenty pages before one of those little voices that live in every writer’s head stopped making up stories and told me to get back to work on Bathtub Jinn.  I’d gotten some good feedback from my critique group and contest judges, and I knew the manuscript needed cutting here and expanding there.  And who knows, the little voice said, you might get lucky again.  So I got out the green pen (red ink feels so critical) and dove back in.

Yesterday the calls went out for this year’s Golden Heart and Rita (that’s the contest for published work) nominations.  My little voice was still with me, and I told Jo Anne last week that I planned to stay home an hour or so later than usual, just in case the phone rang.  (Last year I was somewhere on the freeway, missed the call, and finally found an email in my spam folder asking for another phone number!) 

As it happened, there were two accidents and a truck fire on I45 between here and Houston yesterday morning, and I would have been at least an hour late if I had left at my normal time.  Good excuse to stay home, I told myself.  At least a thousand people who were brave enough to enter the Golden Heart would not get a call, I told myself, and there would be some excellent manuscripts among them.  I knew that was true–I’d judged some of them myself.

And at 8:30 the phone rang.  Out of Area, said the Caller ID.  I hardly ever answer Out of Area calls.  Yesterday I grabbed the phone and fumbled for the talk button.  My hand shook, and I’m sure I babbled incoherently at the lovely RWA board member who had called to tell me that Bathtub Jinn is indeed a finalist for the Golden Heart this year, in the paranormal category.

As much as I enjoyed my trip to New York last summer, I wasn’t planning to go to the RWA Conference in Anaheim this July, unless I had a really good excuse.  I can hardly think of a better one.  I’d better start making plans.

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