Today, I have author Charlotte Johnson in the interview chair. We’re discussing her latest release The Making of a Lady, a transgender Regency romance. Don’t forget to check out the excerpt.
1. First, what’s your favourite scene in the book? Not in regards to writing, but reading, and why?
Charlotte: My favourite scene occurs when Isobel and Peter meet at the Duchess of Camberly’s Ball. There is a moment when their eyes meet and for both of them it is as if time stands still.
2. If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your book?
Charlotte: Nope, I am pretty happy with the way it is.
3. Share a “side story” about the characters.
Charlotte: Before she became the Duchess of Camberly, Charlotte had endured much to become the woman she appeared to be. Her early story is, at times, brutal, yet thanks to a very special man, she endures and ultimately falls in love.
4. If you could spend time with one character from your book, who would it be? And what would you do during that day?
Charlotte: I would have loved to meet Jenkins, Lord Peter Fairfax’s valet. Like he does with Mary, he would take me to Vauxhall gardens so that I could enjoy firsthand all the naughty experiences the pleasure gardens had to offer.
5. Did the characters hijack the story or did you feel like you had control of your book?
Charlotte: As they always do, my characters develop as I write them. Yes, this sometimes means I have to rewrite certain sections but is fun for me to find out how the character changes throughout the story.
6. How did you come up with the title for your book?
Charlotte: The story clearly suggests the title for Viscount David Drummond is most definitely made into a lady.
7. If your book was made into a film, who would you like to play the leads?
Charlotte: I would choose James Dean to play the part of Lord Peter Fairfax. And for Isobel…that is a hard one. Perhaps someone like Andreja Pejic.
8. If your book was a candle, what scent would it be and why?
Charlotte: Lavender for it is a soft and loving scent.
9. If your book had a theme song, what would it be and why?
Charlotte: From Here to the Moon and Back.
10. If your book was a colour, what would it be and why?
Charlotte: The beautiful blue of the forget-me-no. For in the language of flowers, the forget-me-not represents true love.
11. What did you edit out of the book?
Charlotte: A love scene between the Duchess of Camberly and her husband.
12. What can we expect from you in the future?
Charlotte: I am working on a full-length version of a short story I wrote many years ago. It has a historical element, although this time, set in the 1930’s.
All About Charlotte!
1. What is something unique/quirky about you?
Charlotte: I like to write in the car.
2. What about your hobbies/interests? Please, share.
Charlotte: I am a passionate toxophilite.
3. What are some of your pet peeves?
Charlotte: People who are rude and aggressive, especially when behind the wheel of a car. Authors who feel it necessary to write about BDSM. There is far too much pain in the world to be writing about it too.
4. Where were you born/grew up?
Charlotte: In Yorkshire, England.
5. Describe yourself in 5 words or less!
Charlotte: A hopeless transgender romantic.
Charlotte on Reading:
1. What book do you think everyone should read?
Charlotte: Lord Of The Rings.
2. What fiction genre(s) do you read the most?
Charlotte: Romance, both set in modern-day and in the Regency period.
3. If you could have been the author of any of your fave books that you’ve read, which book would you choose and why?
Charlotte: Jane Austin… Pride and Prejudice.
4. Share your favourite character from a book that you’ve read, and why they are your fave.
Charlotte: Elizabeth Bennet. In a world dominated by men, she is such a strong character.
5. On average, how much do you read every week?
Charlotte: More hours than I would care to admit.
Title: The Making of a Lady
Author: Charlotte Johnson
Genre: Regency Transgender Romance
Heat Rating: Level 3
Publisher: eXtasy Books
Publication Date: April 24, 2021
Length: 86,000/276 pages
Blurb: For the whole of his life, Viscount David Drummond has been groomed to inherit the title Earl of Falkirk upon the death of his father. However, instead of enjoying the manly pursuits expected by his father, he finds his every waking moment is consumed with the belief that he should have been born a woman and not a man. For David, it is a desire to compelling to resist.
After being caught in a compromising position while dressed as a girl, David Drummond is cast out of his family home by his father. With just the clothes on his back and a few golden guineas in his pocket, he escapes to London. There, he hopes to seek out a new life when his trust comes to him on his twenty-first birthday.
Through a letter of introduction, Lady Olivia Hamilton, the Countess of Weybridge, is apprised of his secret. For particular reasons of her own, she resolves to help David become Miss Isobel Munroe, the woman he always felt meant to be. Willing to brave the scandal of discovery for a chance to be true to herself, Isobel becomes a reality, and with the help of Olivia and her friends, she begins her new life. She even finds the man of her dreams, Lord Peter Fairfax, a gentleman in need of a wife as special as she. Everything is coming together, or so it seems. But Isobel can’t escape her past so easily, for someone is seeking David Drummond–someone who wants him dead.
Malcolm Drummond, 7th Earl of Falkirk, lay awake in his bed, even though he should have been sound asleep. On retiring that night his mind had been clouded due to the wine and the whiskey he had consumed at dinner, and by rights he should have slept soundly until the morn. But something had disturbed his alcohol-induced slumber, something intangible, unknown, and now sleep evaded him. Groaning, he turned and fumbled for the full hunter fob watch that hung on the stand beside his bed, pressing the button that ordered the tiny bells within to chime the time…a quarter past the hour of three in the morning.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he rolled over once more.
The earl sighed, his hand bashing his down-filled pillow as he turned over in his bed to seek out a comfortable position. Then a fox barked in the distance and Malcolm laughed out loud.
That must have been it! A blasted fox!
Relaxing a little with that thought, he rolled over once more, this time onto his front, his bloated body pressing down upon his very full bladder. Again, he laughed. Perhaps needing a piss was what had awoken him after all. With a pounding head, he clawed his way out of his bed and lifted the front of his nightshirt. He took himself in hand, and a stream of piss was soon ringing into the chamber-pot that was kept under his bed, a sigh of relief hissing from his lips as he emptied his bladder. Then his eye caught sight of flickering candlelight reflecting from a crystal decanter that stood on a table by the window.
The whiskey called to him. Staggering over to the table, he poured himself one last glass and pulled back his drapes a fraction to peer out into the night whilst he sipped at the fiery liquid. His rooms were at the back of the manor house, overlooking the stable block below, and at first, everything seemed quiet, everything seemed as it should…That was, until he saw the unmistakeable flicker of a lantern being carried across the stable courtyard.
Finally, there was the truth of it! One of his favourite horses, aptly named Midnight, was due to foal at any time, and the earl grinned drunkenly as he watched his head groom, Hamish Russell, disappear into a stable. Midnight was a superb brood mare and her soon-to-be foal had been sired by no less than Apollo, a magnificent Arabian stallion owned by his friend and neighbour, Lord John MacDonald. Not only would the foal have the pedigree of a champion, it was sure to be worth a pretty penny, too, and its birth was something the earl did not want to miss. That had to be it. Russell was, by nature, a lazy bastard, and the earl knew that the only thing that could possibly have dragged the man from his bed was the imminent delivery of the foal.
In his inebriated state it took some time, but by the light of his candle, the earl dressed himself simply: trousers and shirt, and a pair of stout walking boots that he kept in his room for such an occasion. Then, after throwing his robe over his shoulders once more, he slipped out of his room and made towards the staircase at the back of the house, a staircase that led directly down to the kitchens. As he imagined it would be, the kitchen was deserted, the room still warm from the fire that cook had carefully banked in the stove. Striding purposefully across the flagstones, he made his way to the outside door, only pausing for a moment when he discovered it to be already unlocked and unbolted.
Quietly and with mounting excitement, the earl lurched towards the stable block, the bright luminescence of the full moon making it easy for him to find his way in the darkness. But as he reached the door through which the weak light shone, something made him freeze, his whole body becoming motionless. He had expected to hear the sounds of a horse in labour, perhaps the soft encouraging tones of Russell, the head groom and midwife to Midnight. Instead, coming from behind the door were the unmistakeable sounds of a man and woman enjoying each other’s pleasure: the steady slap, slap, slap of flesh on flesh, the deep grunts of man in the heat of passion; the soft moans of his woman urging him on.
“The cheeky bugger,” whispered the earl. “Russell must have a lassie in there with him.”
Smiling lasciviously to himself, the earl took a step forward and put his eye to the crack in the door. He recognised his groom almost immediately, for he was a giant of a man, his breadth of shoulders alone making it obvious as to who it was. The man was down on his knees amongst the freshly laid straw, his back towards the earl, the kilt he habitually wore hiked up to his waist exposing his massive hairy thighs and naked backside. And, as the earl had suspected, Russell was pounding away at a woman who was on her hands and knees before him, his hands gripping the girl’s hips to pull her in each time he thrust forward.
Because of the angle of Russell’s body, it was difficult to see who he was with. However, one thing was for certain—the woman was young, and judging by the way she was dressed, was no commoner either. The dress she wore appeared to be of fine cotton, the skirt of which was pulled high over her back to reveal long, graceful legs encased in the finest of white woollen stockings. Her body was slim, almost prepubescent in form, her breasts so small they were invisible beneath the bodice of the dress she wore. As she braced herself on graceful arms, she held her head low, her long red hair hanging loose over her face and concealing her features, and the earthy noises she was making left no doubt that she was enjoying being fucked this way. So obviously near his peak, Russell began to pound even harder into the woman and, fascinated, the earl watched as the woman moved a hand between her legs to pleasure herself there.
Only then did the earl look on in confusion.
For the woman was not rubbing at the top of her cunny as he had suspected she would. Instead, her hand had made a fist, a fist that began moving furiously up and down, its movement in perfect unison to the thrusts of the man behind. Faster and faster they went, and suddenly the young woman squealed as her back arched, her whole body quivering as it was consumed with pleasure. Russell continued to hammer his cock into her. Within seconds, the earl saw every muscle, every sinew in Russell’s body contract, his hairy buttocks clenching as he too reached his peak. Unable to tear himself away from the scene, the earl watched on as Russell’s body sagged forwards, pushing his partner down onto the straw, his cock still firmly embedded in her body.
It was only then that the girl turned her head to the side, her hair finally coming free from her face, her eyes looking straight towards the door behind which the earl was standing. In horror, the earl staggered backwards as sudden realisation sobered him like a bucket of ice water over the head.
It was no woman. Instead, on his knees and in a dress, was David, his only son.
Charlotte Johnson is an English author with an obsession for writing romantic transgender fiction. The Making of a Lady is her second full-length novel, which combines her passion for all things Jane Austin with an absolute belief that transgender people throughout the world have an unconditional right to respect and to love. Charlotte, who lives with her family near London, has also penned, to some critical acclaim, over 50 other short stories.
Find Charlotte: eXtasy Books Author Page