Interview with Beverly Jenkins
Q. Beverly, please tell us a bit about the New Book and Series.
A. The book is
titled: Forbidden and is set in 1875 Virginia City Nevada. Our hero, Rhine
Fontaine is a saloon owner and a pillar of the community. Our heroine Eddy
Carmichael is a cook from Denver and is traveling to California to fulfill a
dream of opening her own restaurant when things go awry. She is robbed by a man
impersonating a priest and left to die in the desert. Rhine finds her. Books 2
and 3 will focus on Eddy’s nieces Portia and Regan.
Q. Did you do anything different with your research this time
around?
A. I didn’t do
anything out of the norm for me. A
recently conducted archeological dig in Virginia City unearthed the remains of
a high end 1870s saloon founded by a man of color. It, like many of the city’s
other business establishments was
destroyed by the Great Fire of 1875. I based Rhine’s saloon on that real
saloon.
Q. What about the Wild
West called you?
A. Who doesn’t like
the scope and sweep of the Wild West? I’ve written quite a few westerns. That I
get to add to the standard lore stories about men and women who looked like me
along with the Buffalo Soldiers, the all Black townships of Kansas and the
black and the brown outlaws and lawmen of Indian Territory makes it even more
of a blast.
Q. Who did you have more of a connection with while writing, the
hero or the heroine?
A. It depends on the
story. Sometimes the story belongs to the hero and at other times the heroines.
It can also belong to both. I let the characters decide.
Q. Can you share a small
teaser from your favorite scene of the book, or describe your favorite scene?
Eddy awakened in a
four-poster in a large room barely lit by a turned down lamp. Having no idea
where she was or how she came to be there, she shook the cobwebs dulling her
thinking and noticed she was wearing a man’s shirt! Perplexed, her eyes moved
around the room to a well-appointed sitting area and then to the face of a
White man watching her from one of the chairs. Panic flared. She snatched the
blanket to her neck and she drew back fearfully.
“Don’t be afraid. You’re safe. I’m Rhine
Fontaine. My friend Jim and I found you in the desert.”
Confused, she tried to force herself to
calm down so she could make some sense of this, but she couldn’t. Watching him
warily, she asked, “Where am I?” Her throat was dry as sand. She wanted water
badly, but needed to solve the mystery of this first.
“Virginia City.”
“And this place is?”
“My bedroom.”
Her eyes went wide.
“I need to go, I can’t stay here.”
“Maybe in a few days,
but right now—”
Alarmed, she didn’t
let him finish. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her mind was so
foggy she wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew she had to get away.
He stood and said
urgently, “No! You’ll fall!”
He was right. The
moment she stood, she was hit by a wave of weakness so strong her legs folded
as if they were made of cards. She cried out involuntarily as she hit the
floor.
He walked over to
her. “As I said, maybe in a few days. Are you okay?”
Drawing away again,
she looked up and recognized the face of the man from her dream. She stilled.
Had it been a dream? “I’ll scream!”
He sighed. “If you
feel that’s necessary, go right ahead, but I’m not going to hurt you—in any
way. When you’re done, I can help you back into bed, or carry you to the
facilities, whichever you’d prefer.”
Heated embarrassment
burned her cheeks. Her needs were not something she talked about to a stranger,
and especially not a White man stranger. “I can walk.”
“No, you can’t, but
if you want to try, I’ll wait.”
At that moment she saw her bare legs sticking
out from beneath the long-tailed shirt, and also realized she had on no
underthings! Not drawers. No shift. As quickly as her weakened state allowed,
she reached up and pulled the blanket down. Ignoring him as best she could, she
covered her bare legs. This was getting worse and worse.
“As I said, my name’s
Rhine. And yours?”
“Eddy. Eddy
Carmichael.”
“Pleased to meet you,
Miss Carmichael. You gave my partner Jim and me quite a scare out there in
the desert, but I’m pleased to see you are recovering.”
Then her muddled
brain remembered Jack Nash’s perfidy and her walk across the desert, but
nothing else. “How long have I been here?”
“Four or five hours.”
Lord, she was thirsty. “May I have some water
please?” she croaked. She felt so weak. It was not a state she was accustomed
to.
He poured her a glass
from a pitcher on the nightstand and handed it to her. “Slowly,” he advised
softly. “Just a little for now.”
She nodded and took a
few short swallows. The water tasted so good and she was so thirsty she wanted
to down the entire offering, but heeding his advice, she took only a few more
slow pulls. Done, she handed the glass back and her parched throat savored the
relief. “Why am I so weak?”
“Walking the Forty
Mile Desert under a full sun takes its toll. So, Miss Eddy—facilities or
back to bed?”
She hated to admit it
but she really needed choice number one. Thoroughly scandalized, she confessed
softly, “The facilities, but I can walk. Just point me in the right direction.”
Looking around, she didn’t see a screen of any kind.
“It’s at the end of
the hallway.”
“Oh,” she said
disappointedly. Still bent on getting there under her own power, though, she
wrestled with the blanket in an attempt to fashion it around her waist. Trying
to get it out from under her hips and secured without treating him to another
show of her legs was a struggle, however. He’d seen more of them than any man
ever before.
“Do you want to go today?” he asked in a tone
of muted amusement.
She shot him a glare.
Reasonably certain the blanket was secured, she said, “Yes.” Now she just had
to get up. No small task. The fullness of the blanket made it difficult to get
her feet planted so she could stand. She decided she’d use the side of the bed
to give her the leverage she needed. She scooted closer.
“You always this
stubborn, Miss Carmichael?”
“It’s called
determination, Mr. Fontaine.”
“I stand corrected.”
Giving him another withering
glare, she grabbed hold of the bed’s wooden side panel and began working
herself to her knees. She made a bit of progress, but her weakened state
conspired against her efforts. Refusing to surrender and breathing harshly, she
slowly inched herself to a standing position, careful not to get her feet
fouled by the swath of blanket, and promptly keeled face forward onto the
mattress.
Chuckling softly, he
picked her up from behind and placed her gently into the cradle of his strong
arms. He smiled softly. “It’s called stubbornness.”
Rolling her eyes, she
allowed herself to be carried from the room.
Q. What is next for you? What are you working on
now?
A. Next up for me is
the June debut of the 7th book in my Blessings series which is women’s fiction.
The title: Stepping To A New Day. I’m presently working on Portia’s story which
I hope will be out in the fall.
Thank
you for taking the time to talk about FORBIDDEN
Thanks so much for
this opportunity to meet you and your readers.
Forbidden
By: Beverly Jenkins
Releasing January
26, 2016
Avon
Avon
Blurb
USA Today bestselling author Beverly Jenkins
returns with the first book in a breathtaking new series set in the Old West
Rhine
Fontaine is building the successful life he's always dreamed of—one that
depends upon him passing for White. But for the first time in years, he wishes
he could step out from behind the façade. The reason: Eddy Carmichael, the
young woman he rescued in the desert. Outspoken, defiant, and beautiful, Eddy tempts
Rhine in ways that could cost him everything . . . and the price seems worth
paying.
Eddy owes
her life to Rhine, but she won't risk her heart for him. As soon as she's saved
enough money from her cooking, she'll leave this Nevada town and move to California.
No matter how handsome he is, no matter how fiery the heat between them, Rhine
will never be hers. Giving in for just one night might quench this longing. Or
it might ignite an affair as reckless and irresistible as it is forbidden . . .
Excerpt:
Denver
Spring 1870
“Stop him!” Eddy
Carmichael screamed, scrambling to her feet from the mud. The man who’d
snatched her purse and shoved her down was now running away down the dark
Denver street. Taking off in pursuit, she called for help, but there were no
policemen about and the few people on the walks nearby gave her no more than a passing
glance. Up ahead, the thief turned a corner. Not wanting to lose him, she ran
faster, but by the time she reached the spot, he’d disappeared. Frantically
casting about for clues as to his whereabouts, she saw nothing. Anger turned to
frustration and then to despair. Inside the purse had been her paltry month’s
pay and the train ticket to California she’d purchased less than an hour ago.
She’d been saving for the passage for months in hopes of starting a new life in
San Francisco.
Now, penniless, angry, her skirts and cloak covered with mud, she set out for home.
Now, penniless, angry, her skirts and cloak covered with mud, she set out for home.
Eddy dreamed of
owning her own restaurant. It was a common belief that women like her, the
descendant of slaves, had no right to dream. Yet, she knew from the articles
she’d read in the newspapers that members of the race were pursuing theirs in
spite of the disenfranchisement being ignored by Congress and the bloody
lawlessness of Redemption ravaging the South. Colleges were being built, land
was being purchased, and across the nation Black owned businesses were
springing up like columbines in the spring. At the age of twenty- seven and
unmarried, Eddy saw no such opportunities for herself in Denver, and now thanks
to the thief those dreams were in peril.
Her home was a
room she rented above a laundry owned by her landlady, Mrs. Lucretia Hampton.
Eddy had been so sure of leaving town, she’d already given the woman notice and
the new tenant was due to move in tomorrow afternoon. Although Mrs. Hampton
would show concern over Eddy being robbed, the laundress was first and foremost
a businesswoman and would likely not alter the agreement.
Putting her key
into the door lock of her room, Eddy stepped into the darkness. As always, the
acrid scent of lye wafting up from the laundry below filled the air. The room
was so tiny even a mouse would have difficulty turning around, but on her
meager salary it was all she could afford. Having worn the mantle of poverty
since the death of her parents twelve years ago, she was grateful to have it.
Making her way through the shadows over to the pallet that served as her bed,
she struck a match and set the flame against the stub of candle in the old tin
saucer that sat atop a battered wooden crate. While the wavering light filled
the room, she removed her mud- stained cloak. Rather than attempt to clean it
with the small bit of water in her basin, she hung it on the nail protruding
from the back of the door with the hope that once the mud dried it would be
easier to remove. She put her last pieces of kindling into the hearth. The
resulting heat would be minimal but at least the flames held beauty, another
element her life lacked. Warming her hands, she thought about her plight. She
supposed she could remain in Denver and start saving again. Choosing that route
meant finding another room to rent and a new job, because she’d given her
employer notice, too. Six months ago, the hotel where she’d worked for the past
three years as a cook had been purchased by a new owner whose first act had
been to remove Eddy and every other person of color from the kitchen. He
offered her a new job scrubbing floors for less money. The demotion was both
infuriating and humiliating, but knowing how blessed she was to still have
employment, she’d swallowed her anger and scrubbed the floors until they shone.
Even then, he constantly found fault with her work and routinely docked her pay
for what he termed inferior effort. She knew for a fact he’d never offer her
the job back, and there was no way she’d be able to rent another room without
one.
She ran her
hands over her eyes and sighed. She didn’t want to stay in Denver, not even for
another day. Her future lay elsewhere and she knew that as sure as she knew her
name, but how could she could get the money for another ticket? Mrs. Hampton
didn’t give loans. The Colored community was small and most were as pinched by
poverty as she. Those who weren’t certainly wouldn’t loan her money even if she
had the gall to ask. Her only relative in the city was her younger sister
Corinne, and asking her for money made about as much as sense as asking the new
owner of the hotel. After the deaths of their mother Constance and teamster
father Ben in a blizzard, Eddy did everything she could to provide for herself
and sister; she took in laundry, cooked for the wealthy, looked after their
children, and swept their floors. But her beautiful baby sister chose to fall
back on her looks and figure and took up with a pimp in the city’s red- light
district. Although the pimp was long gone, Corinne still resided there along
with her two young daughters. Eddy knew her sister would laugh in her face for
having the audacity to ask for money. Corinne had nothing but derision for
Eddy’s desire to better her life, but Corinne was her last resort. It was too
late to pay her a visit at the moment, but she’d planned to stop by on her way
to the station in the morning to say good- bye to her nieces anyway. Now, her
visit would be about something different entirely.
“At
least I won’t have much to pack,” she said softly. She’d sold what little
possessions she’d had in order to help pay her rent and purchase the train
ticket. What remained was her mother’s locket, a cast iron skillet, her small
cookstove brazier, and a few meager changes of clothing. She had nothing else.
Were she not so accustomed to having to claw her way through life, she might
have collapsed and wept, but being made of sterner stuff, she’d learned long
ago that weeping changed nothing.
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Author Info
She has received numerous awards, including: five Waldenbooks/Borders Group Best Sellers Awards; two Career Achievement Awards and a Pioneer Award from Romantic Times Magazine; a Golden Pen Award from the Black Writer's Guild, and in 1999 was named one of the Top Fifty Favorite African-American writers of the 20th Century by AABLC, the nation's largest on-line African-American book club.
She has also been featured in many national publications, including the Wall Street Journal, People Magazine, Dallas Morning News and Vibe Magazine. She has lectured and given talks at such prestigious universities as Oberlin University, the University of Illinois, and Princeton. She speaks widely on both romance and 19th century African-American history and was the 2014 featured speaker for the W.W. Law Lecture Series sponsored by the Savannah Black Heritage Festival.
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