Title: The Harlot’s Pen
Author: Claudia H. Long
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: Devine Destinies
Release Date: Feb 1 2014
Blurb/Synopsis:
San Francisco in the roaring 20s-- After World War I, San
Francisco is a wild town. Abandoned by her lover, Violetta is swept up in the
new, freer ways and becomes America's first "embedded journalist."
She joins a brothel that caters to San Francisco's most powerful men in order
to write her epic story on the conditions of working women. But federal agents
looking to clamp down on both vice and workers' rights don't take kindly to her
modern views. Shorter dresses, fair pay for women, and the dark and frightening
worlds of sex and politics teach Violetta the lessons of a lifetime.
Book Links
Claudia H Long writes fiction when she isn't mediating messy
legal disputes. She has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and as a change she
recently tried to take up belly dancing. Luckily, she is a better mediator than
she is a dancer, by far, but her real love is writing fiction.
The Harlot's Pen, her first venture into the roaring 20s, is a
Devine Destinies book, an adventure in embedded (literally!) journalism and the
rights of working women in the world's oldest profession. Claudia is also the
author of Josefina's Sin (Simon & Schuster 2011). The Duel for Consuelo,
which follows on Josefina's Sin, will come out in late Spring 2014 with
Booktrope.
Claudia has two grown children, and lives in Northern
California with her husband and far too many animals.
Author Links
Excerpt (Please Choose Only One)
Excerpt 1 R- PG
Fremont Older threw his head back and laughed. I looked back
down at the table, mortified. “No, no, don’t be upset! The idea is absurd, but
not as bad as your first idea. There’s potential there, and if it’s original,
it sells.”
“Sells?”
“Papers, silly girl. That’s what we do, right?”
I nodded, dejected. That’s what the Argus had done, and it
had cost me everything. I said so to Mr. Older.
“But everything is what counts. If you don’t give
everything, you get nothing. But let us discus this. What whores do you know?”
I, of course, knew none. “And now I don’t even know how to
find one.” I thought about the girl so long ago on the Oakland street.
“Well then, let me tell you how. There is a madam up in
Sonoma who runs a most elegant house, and every influential man in California
who is not impotent or a Mormon has frequented her establishment. She closed up
her San Francisco shop when the getting was good and opened up in a place
called El Verano. It is an extremely high class joint, the women are
beautiful—and most prostitutes are not even pretty, legend to the contrary. The
madam is gracious, intelligent, and well informed. She has a fine cook, an
excellent liquor storehouse, and the best musical entertainment to be had. You
could go to her, write about her girls…”
He stopped, this time it was he who stared into the
distance. Then he banged his spoon on the table. “In fact, become one of her
girls!”
I sat back, outraged. “You are joking.”
“No, I am not. I can see it now: the true story of a working
girl, as told to The Call! You are quite pretty, though a bit on the tall side,
and well spoken. You have had, shall we say, adventures, so you will not be
shocked at the tasks to which you are appointed. You will gain access to the
most influential men in California. And think about the goldmine of material
you will have for your writing! If you write about your experiences, changing
the names, obviously, so you don’t get us sued for libel, I will consider
publishing it. Your story will reach the hearts and minds of the people who
matter most.
“Meanwhile, I will back your expenses and await your report.
Of course, you must not tell her I sent you. But write a brilliant series on
your life as a high-class whore, and your literary future is assured.”
I was still horrified, but Mr. Older was already talking
details. “You must send it all at once, not piecemeal, so I can review it in
its entirety before making a decision. I know you can write, and I know you can
think. And there’s nothing left for you here in San Francisco now. So, are you
in?”
After about a minute I nodded. Fremont Older’s face split
into a grin. “Now that’s my girl!” He shook my hand across the table. “You have
signed on for a great adventure!”
I shook his hand, glorying in his approval, my head buzzing
with confusion.
Only now, in the quiet, empty house, I wondered what on
earth had I agreed to?
Great to be here at your lovely blog site! Claudia
ReplyDeleteGlad to have you here.
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