Dear Readers,
People often ask me where the idea for a book comes from.
With “Duchess For The Weekend,” it all began with one very simple question.
What if the man you love never notices you?
For Effie, the answer is drastic: stop waiting to be noticed. She has spent far too long overlooked by the gentleman she has loved for years, and so she devises a daring plan. She will lure Sir Charles into the library (under a respectable pretext) and kiss him. She is staking everything on a single kiss in the hope that he will finally, finally see the remarkable woman standing before him.
Unfortunately, it isn’t Sir Charles who walks through the library door.
It’s his cousin.
The dark, infuriating Duke of Silverthorn.
Rather than exposing her disastrous scheme, he presents one of his own.
It is considerably more absurd…
As for Effie herself, I adored her from the very beginning, and I still do. She is one of the kindest, warmest characters I have ever written, and I honestly believe she may be my favourite heroine of them all. I grew so fond of her that, once or twice while writing, I caught myself wondering, What would Effie do?
My editor confessed in one of her emails that she had become more than a little “Effie-obsessed,” which was an enormous relief. It meant I had not merely imagined Effie’s charm or talked myself into believing she was as lovable as I hoped.
The Duke, however, is quite another matter.
I was immediately taken with his appearance. In my imagination, he bears a striking resemblance to a certain actor. (And, I suppose, just a tiny resemblance to my husband, although I suspect all my heroes do.)
But I didn’t truly fall in love with the Duke until much later.
There were moments when he exasperated me beyond words. Moments when I longed to shake some sense into him. And, admittedly, one or two moments when I was tempted to tear his shirt off. (Fortunately, Effie was more than happy to do that on my behalf.)
In the end, he won my heart because beneath all that gruffness is a man who is capable of laughing at himself. To me, that is one of the most attractive qualities a man can possess. He is fiercely protective, wonderfully steadfast, and possessed of remarkable patience, which is just as well, considering Effie has a tendency to test every last ounce of it.
“Duchess For The Weekend” is a Regency romantic comedy filled with sworn enemies, deliciously slow-burn attraction, and enough romantic tension to keep both the characters and, I hope, the readers on their toes.
Incidentally, after I told my husband about several scenes from the book, he remarked that he detected a certain resemblance between the heroine and her creator.
Something about me being “cheeky”.
“And what was her name again?” he asked. “Effie? I think you meant Emmi.”
Imagine that.
Me?
Cheeky?
Certainly not.
Merely hopelessly romantic.
Warmest wishes,
Emmi “Effie” West
