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Six authors bring to life overlapping stories of patricians and slaves, warriors and politicians, villains and heroes who cross each others' path during Pompeii's fiery end.
Caught in the deadly world of the Renaissance's most notorious family, three outsiders must decide if they will flee the dangerous dream of power.
The Borgia family begins its legendary rise, chronicled by an innocent girl who finds herself drawn into their dangerous web.
The lives of an ambitious soldier, a patrician heiress and a future emperor fatefully intersect.
The Year of Four Emperors - and four very different women struggling to survive
A brilliant and paranoid Emperor, a wary and passionate slave girl who will survive?

Ave Historia: An irreverent look at historical fiction today: books trends, historical tidbits, and random tangents

Tag! You're It!

April 13, 2012

Tags: author tag, empress of the seven hills, sophie perinot

I've been tagged by my friend and fellow author Sophie Perinot ("The Sister Queens") for something she calls Author Tag. I'm always keen for weekend fun, so let's see if I can figure this out:

1. Go to the 77th page of my latest book.

2. Count down 7 lines.

3. Copy the 7 sentences that follow, and post them as a teaser.

4. Tag 7 other authors.


Okay, page 77 of "Empress of the Seven Hills" . . . counting down . . . aha. A scene where a Roman senator and his wife (some of you who read "Mistress of Rome" might remember Marcus and Calpurnia!) are preparing to have Emperor Trajan to the house for dinner, and are watched with considerable amusement by bodyguard Vix:

***

"I don't see what all this fuss is," Senator Norbanus said mildly, looking up from his scrolls at his madly rushing wife. "Emperor Trajan is a soldier; he's easy to entertain - put a slab of meat on his plate and enough beer in his mug, and he's happy."

"But Empress Plotina notices everything," Lady Calpurnia groaned, "and I won't have her wrinkling her long nose at my housekeeping." Very heavy under her swollen belly now, Calpurnia went lumbering about the house trailing lists and menus and worried slaves - even the daughter of the house was pressed into service, and I saw Sabina down in the kitchens with her hair tied up in a rag and a smudge of flour on her chin, wrestling gamely with a lump of bread dough. "Show me," she said, watching the cook's expert hands pummeling and punching. "How interesting."

I hid a grin because she'd said the same thing to me last week, in exactly the same tone of voice, when I showed her something under the blankets (never mind what).

***

Now, let's see who else I can tag on Facebook . . . Happy Friday 13th; you're it!