After spending decades unable to settle on one period of history or even one country to write about, I have apparently settled into a niche I enjoy (without using the tarot deck there, thank you!). I suppose it makes sense, if I think about it. I’m a character-driven writer. So instead of creating a career in the history of Regency or Victorian England or the American west or whatever, I have apparently taken root in writing about two distinctly different families through the generations and across continents. This way I don’t feel confined by their environment, and I can explore anywhere I like.
When I set out to write one of my Malcom/Ives Magic books, I never know what rabbit hole I’ll stumble down. I only knew the book following CHEMISTRY OF MAGIC needed to be Will’s book. William Ives-Madden is one of the late marquess’s bastards, and from the beginning, he’s been an atypical Ives. He’s big, yes, but he’s more blond than dark, he’s silent and not in the least charming, and we never see him gracing the ballrooms of society. He has the usual Ives scorn of flibbertigibbet Malcolm females, although he has reason to suspect he has more than a little of his grandmother’s witchy weirdness.