Hi guys, we have Riptide Publishing’s Charlie Cochrane stopping by today with her newest release Lessons For Survivors, the newest book in the Cambridge Fellows Mysteries. Charlie chats about researching historicals, there’s a great excerpt (that I might have nicked off Riptide, so shhhh), we also have a great giveaway and Tams’ review for you to enjoy. So enjoy the post and leave a comment on the post! <3 ~Pixie~   

 Lessons For Survivors

Charlie Cochrane

A more than professional interest . . . a more than personal intrigue.

Orlando Coppersmith should be happy. WWI is almost a year in the past, he’s back at St. Bride’s College in Cambridge, his lover and best friend Jonty Stewart is at his side again, and—to top it all—he’s about to be made Forster Professor of Applied Mathematics. And although he and Jonty have precious little time for an investigative commission, they can’t resist a suspected murder case that must be solved in a month so a clergyman can claim his rightful inheritance.

But the courses of scholarship, true love, and amateur detecting never did run smooth. Orlando’s inaugural lecture proves almost impossible to write. A plagiarism case he’s adjudicating on turns nasty with a threat of blackmail against him and Jonty. And the murder investigation turns up too many leads and too little hard evidence.

Orlando and Jonty may be facing their first failure as amateur detectives, and the ruin of their professional and private reputations. Brains, brawn, the pleasures of the double bed—they’ll need them all to lay their problems to rest.

Researching Historicals

Here is the news(paper) – a sideways look at research for writing historicals

A man attacks his parents with a blade. A thirteen year old is kidnapped and taken to a brothel. An abused woman tries to kill herself and her child. A nine year old boy murders a six year old. The news doesn’t get any better, does it? Or perhaps it doesn’t get any worse, because all these stories were printed in The News of The World, not from October 2012, but Sunday October 1^st 1843. That gives the lie (which you didn’t believe, did you) to the story that Victorian times were halcyon days of goodness and peace. Pfft.

I have a small collection of old newspapers (original and reproduction) and they are a continual source of interest and information. Not only do they give you a factual background – assuming that you remember that, like all sources, they are written for a certain point of view and for a certain audience – but they give a wonderful flavour of the time they’re from. I never really thought anyone actually did seriously report that old cliche, “there was laughter in court” but the Daily Telegraph does, in 1855, in a paternity case concerning a Mrs Thatcher (I kid you not).

When using newspapers to research a story, you have to be careful about inaccuracies in reporting; that’s something else which hasn’t changed much over the years. I refer you to The Daily Mirror of April 16^th 1912: “Montreal, April 15 – It is now confirmed here that the passengers of the Titanic have been safely transhipped to the Allan liner Parisian and the Cunarder Carpathia. The Virginian is still towing the Titanic towards Halifax.” Yep, they got that right, didn’t they?

And it’s the little insights into daily life which are so fascinating. Do you know what was showing in the London theatres on D-day? I know, because my paper tells me so. You could have seen the lovely Robert Donat in Wilde’s An Ideal Husband. Or would you have preferred Ivor Novello’s The Dancing Years? I bet the reports about ‘what’s on’ are more accurate than some of the news items.

I love the adverts, as well. A wonderful source of information on fashions, prices, and the language of the day. Fancy your hero in a nice pair of men’s poplin pyjamas from Selfridges? They’d only cost you 5/- (that’s five shillings to you youngsters, i.e. 25 pence, or maybe 38 cents) in 1935. Now, writers beware, the placing of those adverts might just catch you out. If you have your detective reading the headlines on the front page of the paper, you might commit a faux pas. The average British newspaper often had adverts/notices on the front of it.

You might also be caught out if your 1950’s detective can’t sleep and decides to get up and watch middle-of-the-night TV. Even in 1966, UK TV programmes ended at 11.20 pm and didn’t start until 9.00am the next day, 11.00am if it was Sunday.

I’m off now to puzzle over what story lies behind “LENA-Balham tube 12 today-CLANCY” and whether “Bar assistant man, wants job” ever got one, or if the death of John F Kennedy the day before totally overshadowed the intrigues of the personal column.

Excerpt

Orlando’s study at St. Bride’s had never looked so welcoming. Despite aching legs from standing on their feet and being sociable for so long, he and Jonty threw caution to the wind and almost bounded up the stairs, then slumped into the armchairs, only stopping en route for two glasses and the decanter.

The sherry was very welcome. Orlando worried at times that taking to the bottle was becoming a bit too habitual for comfort, but Mrs. Stewart had always sworn that a small sherry—especially a sweet one at times of trial—practically counted as medicine. He felt as though he needed something therapeutic now, having been sustained after the ceremony by nothing stronger than milky tea and a few sandwiches. He and Jonty hadn’t been able to make it as far as the porters’ lodge, let alone all the way back to Forsythia Cottage, without nipping in to make use of what lurked in Orlando’s study. Port felt too decadent for five o’clock in the afternoon, so sherry it had to be, and very welcome it was.

Jonty slumped into a chair with his drink and immediately loosened his collar and tie. “You were magnificent. Absolutely looked the part of the austere mathematical man.” He took a swig of sherry and let out a huge sigh. “If only they all knew what you were really like. They’d have to be administered sal volatile at the very least.”

“Oh, hush.” Orlando wasn’t displeased; he quite liked people supposing he was stern and logically minded. Really he was an old romantic—at least where Jonty was concerned—and a positive lion in bed. He didn’t want people knowing that, though. He and Jonty might have a reputation throughout the university as two singular and rather eccentric men who had to share a house as no one else would put up with either of them, but what if someone put two and two together?

“And don’t think I missed the ‘like you’ remark,” he added, glancing at Jonty. “Am I really old-fashioned and a bit stuffy?”

“Don’t forget the bit about being out of touch with the times. Yes, you have the capacity to be all of those, but you also said that Cambridge was wonderful.” Jonty leaned forward and tapped Orlando’s knee. “You’re that as well.”

“Hm,” Orlando snorted, deliberately ignoring the compliment. “I’ll have you know, I’m regarded as one of the most forward-thinking men in my department.”

“Yes, well, given what I saw today of the great and good from your department, I wouldn’t use that as any self-advertisement. I’m surprised half of them aren’t on display with the iguanodon down at the museum. You’ll be a breath of fresh air to them.” Jonty leaned back again in his chair. “Been a bit of a strain for both of us today, hasn’t it? I feel like the father of the bride or something.”

“That makes me the bride, I suppose.” Orlando grimaced. “Still, I hope that’s the hard bit done. Even delivering that inaugural lecture can’t be as daunting.” He looked at Jonty for reassurance. “Can it?”

“I always think, with public speaking, that the best thing to do is imagine all your audience is naked. Takes away your nerves entirely, even if it gives you the collywobbles.” Jonty knocked back the rest of his sherry; it had been a hard day. “Only maybe don’t imagine Lavinia in her birthday suit, as Ralph will be round to thump you one. He has the capacity to read minds, I believe.”

“I can’t think of anything more ghastly than imagining the vice-chancellor and all the other great men of the university wandering round in nothing but their academic gowns and hoods.” Orlando reached for the decanter and topped both of their glasses up. This was a ‘take two doses of medicine’ day. “We mustn’t forget to take our post back home. What was so important about those two letters, anyway?”

“Which two letters? Oh.” Jonty patted his jacket. “I’d forgotten about them. One’s from Lavinia, although that’s just family matters. Thought I’d take it with me so the old girl would be represented at your ‘do,’ figuratively if not literally. Seemed right.”

“And the other one?”

“Oh, that’s your reward for smiling so angelically today.” Jonty took out his spectacles, slipped them on, and then caressed the envelope affectionately. “What you’d refer to as a professional enquiry. Someone wants to know if he can consult us. A case. Not one you pack your shirts in. Hey!” Jonty pulled away his fingers, which had come between Orlando’s viselike grip and the letter. “Were you never told not to snatch?”

“And were you never told not to tease? You’ve had wind of a case all day and you hesitated to share it.” Orlando held out his hand and tried to look appealing. “Please?”

Jonty passed the letter over. “See, all you had to do was ask nicely. We shouldn’t run into taking it, though, just because it’s come at what feels like the right time.” In the run-up to the war, they’d been able to pick and choose what they took on, rather like Sherlock Holmes had done in the Conan Doyle stories that Jonty’s father had so loved and Orlando completely detested. Even now, if anybody made the comparison between the two pairs of detectives, Orlando was at pains to point out that Jonty was far more intelligent than the Watson of the stories. Even if Jonty himself argued that Watson as narrator was probably downplaying his own skills while promoting his friend’s.

The last few years, Orlando’d had the growing suspicion that Jonty was doing exactly the same thing.

“Would you care to give me the salient points while I peruse this?” Orlando held up the letter.

“No, that would take away all the fun. You read while I shut my eyes and think for two minutes.”

“Think? You’ll be having a crafty forty winks if I know . . . Ow!” Orlando rubbed his shin. It seemed to have a permanent bruise there at times, being one of Jonty’s favourite kick-you-for-being-cheeky-or-not-paying-attention spots. He wished he’d had the foresight to move the armchairs farther apart, or to have worn shin guards. “Perhaps I should save reading this until you’ve had your nap. In deference to your slowing down with age.”

“Slowing down, am I? By heavens, if you still kept a set of rooms here, rather than just this study, I’d have you over the bed and show you who’s displaying no signs whatsoever of slowing down. Ow!”

“Taste of your own medicine.” Orlando grinned at having managed to get a pretty sharp blow in. Jonty was usually on his guard and ready to shift his leg out of the way; perhaps this was further evidence of him showing his age. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we shouldn’t take on anything before my lecture’s done.”

“What?” Jonty almost shot out of his armchair. “Where’s all the enthusiasm from earlier on?”

“I just want to savour anything we get involved with solving.” Orlando smoothed the letter in his hands. “Too often in the past, the investigation’s all been a dreadful rush, and that’s half the fun taken away.”

“I suppose so. This one’s got a pretty tight deadline attached, although the thought of that always seems to galvanise you. Still, if the timing’s wrong, then maybe we’ll just have to give this one a miss . . .” Jonty slowly took off his spectacles and put them away again. “I’ll send the Reverend Bresnan a reply along the lines of us not having sufficient time at present.” He reached out and took the letter.

“How long a deadline?” Orlando felt the words come out of his mouth, although he’d only intended to think them. For all his reticence, he did like solving a conundrum while the sands were running out of the hourglass, no matter how much he protested. It was like eating very spicy food—both a pleasure and a pain. And he wanted to prove they could still cut the investigational mustard.

“A month. So by your reckoning, we definitely haven’t got time.” Jonty made to throw the letter on the fire, although his grip on the piece of paper remained firm.

Little bugger, he knows I can’t resist for long. He’s playing me like a fish. Orlando stood his ground. “A month? It would be very easy to use up that much time without achieving very much. We’d have to be consulted pretty quickly, for a start, or the sands of time would already be trickling through our fingers.” In that short a time, they might just fail too, which was untenable.

“Well, as a matter of fact—a splendidly convenient fact—that’s not going to be a problem, as the writer is coming up to Cambridge on Thursday. But that wouldn’t be any use, would it? We shouldn’t tempt ourselves.” Jonty made a show of putting the letter away, but it still didn’t leave his hand.

“Where’s he staying?” Orlando sighed, half-defeated.

“He’ll be at the University Arms and we could leave a message there, assuming he starts out from home before I can telephone him.” Jonty folded the letter up carefully.

“Starts out? Where’s he coming from, the Pyrenees?”

“Almost. Deepest, darkest Gloucestershire, which is almost as remote and certainly as cold.” Jonty looked particularly innocent, a sure sign he was winning the fight and knew it. “I could ring him as soon as we get home, if you want.”

Orlando sat back, conquered. A lecture to write and give, new duties to assume in the department (another change Cambridge had seen that he didn’t entirely approve of), newly arrived dunderheads to be licked into some sort of shape, this plagiarism case to be opened and (he hoped) swiftly shut. He didn’t have the capacity for an investigation, especially one with time pressures. But to give up now, through fear of failure, would be an act of cowardice.

“We’ll see him over lunch on Thursday, if that’s convenient.”

“Good man.” Jonty returned the letter to his pocket, blissfully and blatantly triumphant. Orlando tried to console himself not only with the thought of a mystery to solve, but the prospect of trying to replicate that blissful look on his lover’s face in bed that night.

About Charlie

As Charlie Cochrane couldn’t be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice—like managing a rugby team—she writes, with titles published by Carina, Samhain, Bold Strokes, MLR and Cheyenne.

Charlie’s Cambridge Fellows Series of Edwardian romantic mysteries was instrumental in her being named Author of the Year 2009 by the review site Speak Its Name. She’s a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, Mystery People, International Thriller Writers Inc and is on the organising team for UK Meet for readers/writers of GLBT fiction. She regularly appears with The Deadly Dames.

Connect with Charlie:

• Website:charliecochrane.co.uk/
• Blog: charliecochrane.livejournal.com/
• Twitter: @charliecochrane
• Facebook profile page: facebook.com/charlie.cochrane.18
• Goodreads: goodreads.com/goodreadscomcharlie_cochrane

Check out the free Cambridge Fellows Story

http://www.charliecochrane.co.uk/page10.php

Giveaway

Every comment on this blog tour enters you in a drawing for an e-book from Charlie Cochrane’s backlist (excepting Lessons For Survivors). Entries close at midnight, Eastern time, on January 31. Contest is NOT restricted to U.S. entries.

Review

Title: Lessons For Survivors

Series: Cambridge Fellows Mysteries 09

Author: Charlie Cochrane

Genre: Historical, Gay Romance

Length: Novel (270 pages)

ISBN: 978-1-62649-158-8

Publisher: Riptide Publishing (January 26^th 2015) Re-release

Heat Level: Mild

Heart Rating: ♥♥♥♥ 4 Hearts

Reviewer: Tams

Blurb: A more than professional interest . . . a more than personal intrigue.

Orlando Coppersmith should be happy. WWI is almost a year in the past, he’s back at St. Bride’s College in Cambridge, his lover and best friend Jonty Stewart is at his side again, and—to top it all—he’s about to be made Forsterian Professor of Applied Mathematics. And although he and Jonty have precious little time for an investigative commission, they can’t resist a suspected murder case which must be solved in a month so a clergyman can claim his rightful inheritance.

But the courses of scholarship, true love, and amateur detecting never did run smooth. Orlando’s inaugural lecture proves almost impossible to write. A plagiarism case he’s adjudicating on turns nasty with a threat of blackmail against him and Jonty. And the murder investigation turns up too many leads and too little hard evidence.

Orlando and Jonty may be facing their first failure as amateur detectives, and the ruin of their professional and private reputations. Brains, brawn, the pleasures of the double bed—they’ll need them all to lay their problems to rest.

Product Link: http://riptidepublishing.com/titles/lessons-for-survivors

Review: Murder, mystery and a forbidden romance between the two would be detectives trying to solve the case. The backdrop is Britain around WWI at a small Cambridge college while lovers Jonty and Orlando try to keep their romance behind closed doors and contained to the double bed they share, all while trying to solve the mysteries that encircle their lives.

Orlando is now a Professor and if that weren’t enough to make him stress and fret like only Orlando can do, someone is blackmailing him. At the same time, Orlando and Jorty are hired to investigate a murder that is on a time frame if the man that hired them is to receive his inheritance. Jonty is determined to have a normal life with Orlando, and though the case is confusing and nothing is as it seems, their love, witty sense of humor and strong character will see them through any challenge they face, together.

I admit to being slightly confused with the characters and the story as I picked up the ninth book in a series, not realizing it should have been read in order. But I was seriously drawn into the mystery, intrigue and romance of this historical era story. I love when an Author can literally transport me back in time in my imagination with vivid details, scenery and characters. I could see Orlando and Jonty tromping through the halls of the college, putting their heads together to solve the case, and that double bed!

So, while I’m lost on the relationship between characters and the history of this world Cochrane has created with her Cambridge stories, I thoroughly enjoyed the development of these two men as individuals and as a couple as they faced the challenges presented to them in this book. I would probably suggest you start at the beginning, and my plan is to go back and read all the stories from this series, but I was able to enjoy this story regardless.

A must read for fans of this series, Cochrane’s work and anyone that likes a rich historical romance full of depth, romance and mystery.

Check out the other blogs on the tour