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A Christmas Quintet: A Bluestocking Belles Collection + Giveaway

Nov3

The Bluestocking Belles have produced a new set of Christmas stories for your holiday enjoyment! They include:

  • Friends to Lovers—The farmer’s daughter, the viscount’s son, and the estate manager reunite as adults. Della is starry-eyed for the viscount’s son, but is he really the one for her? (Regency, Christmas)
  • Fake Relationship—When the pressure to marry is overwhelming, can a plan put in place at a Christmas house party turn into a love that will last forever? (Regency, Christmas)
  • Second-Chance Love—An accident leaves the modiste burned, blinded and in despair until the physician offers hope and stirs memories. (Regency, Christmas)
  • Country Mouse and Marriage-Shy Duke—Invited at the last minute to make up the numbers, she expects to be an interested observer. The duke has other ideas. (Georgian, Twelfth Night)
  • Two Spies, One Secret—Trapped in a deserted wilderness, will they set aside secrets and past betrayals to rekindle their love and ring in the New Year together? (Medieval, Hogmanay)

Away From the Holiday Crowd by Sherry Ewing

When the pressure to marry is overwhelming, can one Christmas house party provide a love that will last forever?

David Chadwick, Marquis of Lockhart feels burdened by his title’s responsibilities. Heir to a duchy, he knows he must marry but seeks a genuine connection beyond wealth and status.  A chance encounter by the lake with his neighbor’s eldest daughter opens his eyes to the possibilities that might blossom between them.

Lady Elinor Lacey has yet to find a man she would consider for her husband. But time is running out when her father demands she pick an eligible lord by Christmas. When the Marquis of Lockhart shows up at the edge of their property, she sees him in an entirely new light, giving her hope.

Their conversation becomes easier the longer they converse. David and Elinor begin concocting a plan to give them more time to find their perfect match. What could possibly go wrong? But as love begins to enter the picture, can the two of them go beyond their original plan and let love into their hearts?

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot? by Alina K. Field

Dreading meeting an old enemy at a Yuletide house party, Madame Marie La Fanelle, an acclaimed London modiste, has a clumsy encounter with a lamp that leaves her burned, blinded, and in terror of the future. 

But then a kind German physician appears, offering a hopeful diagnosis, and stirring memories of the man she once loved. Can the magic of the holidays heal Marie’s blindness and soften the hardened hearts of two prideful lovers?

Maryann and the Twelfth Knight by Jude Knight

Maryanne is only at the house party as chaperone for her half-sister. She is far too old and insignificant to attract the attention of a duke. Or, at least, if he is pursuing her it cannot be for honorable purposes.

Dell knows it is time to take a wife, but the offerings of the marriage mart bore him to tears. The only lady of interest at his sister’s house party is the spinster chaperone. But she isn’t eligible, is she?

Her Hogmanay Spy by Rue Allyn

In the winter of 1296, can a Scottish Lady and an English knight survive shipwreck, winter in the wilderness, and a betrayal that could break hearts to bring in the new year with a love for all time?

Excerpt: Della’s Christmas Gift by Susana Ellis

Paget House

Ibstock, Leicestershire

15 September 1801

“LAUD’S HEIR RETURNS FROM GRAND TOUR. In search of wife, says reputable source.”

Della’s brother threw down the latest copy of The Teatime Tattler and snickered. “Poor sod’s too young for a leg-shackle. Doubtless Lady Laud’s pressing for grandchildren. Mothers!”

Their father lifted an eyebrow. “If your mother were still alive, you’d be wed by now, Thomas. I suppose I’ve been negligent on that front. You’re what, thirty now? Ought to be settled down.”

Thomas’s fork clattered when it hit his plate. “And who would I marry? Some farm girl like Della here? If I were a banker’s son I could look higher.”

Della winced and her father’s face turned red. “THOMAS! Apologize to your sister this instant!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. But Della could tell he wasn’t sincere, even before he added, “But dammit, she should be wed by now too. But what choices does she have, as a farmer’s daughter? We should all be better off if we sold out and went into banking.”

Thomas Sr. pounded the table hard enough to rattle his plate. “ENOUGH!”

Both of his offspring stiffened and stared at him incredulously. Their father rarely lost his temper, and never at the breakfast table. But there had been more than a few arguments recently, Della mused. 

“This farm has provided you an easy life, Thomas. You’ve been handed everything you need and want, even a chance for a superior education at Cambridge, which you squandered by neglecting your studies in favor of—er—” he swallowed as he glanced at Della  “studies of a different sort.”

Della snorted and promptly looked down at her lap when her father gave her a stern look. Well really. She was twenty years old, the same age as Thomas when he returned home from Cambridge in disgrace. Did they really believe she hadn’t heard all the stories about his misdeeds there? Rumors had been rife at the time, and although she might not have understand exactly what they meant at the age of ten, she had since apprehended them more clearly.

“I’m inclined to believe that this self-indulgent lifestyle you’ve embarked on can be attributed to the influence of the useless young lords with whom you caroused first at Harrow and then at Cambridge.” He shook his head. “Your mother would be ashamed, Thomas.”

His son had the decency to drop his chin. 

And well he should, thought Della. He’d had the good fortune to have had a mother, at least. She’d never had that opportunity, her mother having died at Della’s birth.

Their father pushed back his chair and rose from table. “Thomas, your jaunts to London and York and all points in between are now cancelled. Henceforth, you will spend your time at Paget & Sons, employed in furthering the interests of our sheep and cattle.” 

Folding his arms in front him, he glared at his son. “In case you’ve forgotten all you’ve been taught over the years, I’ll put the lad in charge to refresh your memory.”

With that, he marched out of the room.

Della giggled. The image of Thomas being bear-led around the farm by the much-younger estate manager seemed dubious at best.

He slapped the table. “It’s not funny! I don’t care a jot about sheep and cattle, and you all know it! Besides, I have a shooting party next week. It’s almost the end of the grouse season.”

Della’s hands curled up. “You should care. This farm will be yours someday! It’s in your own best interests to ensure its prosperity.”

Thomas’s lips curled. “It’s been losing money for years. By the time it comes down to me, it’ll be worth a pittance. Best to sell out now and put the capital where it can do some good.”

Tilting his head, he studied her with a gleam in his eye.

“If I’m not mistaken, you are out there with the cattle every day. And Kit too. Now there’s a match for you—the rustic farm girl and the penniless estate manager.”

Della tossed the remainder of her sausage at him. “You are horrid, Thomas.”

“And you’re a twit,” he threw back as he exited the room.

Della heaved a sigh. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Kit. He’d been one of her best friends forever. But as for marriage, she had something else in mind. 

Reaching for the Teatime Tattler, she smoothed her fingers over the headline. Toby was looking for a wife, was he? Well, she intended that he look no further than the neighboring estate.

Release Date: December 1, 2024

Preorder:

A Christmas Quintet Celebration Giveway

Mystery Box
8-1/2 x 6 x 2

What’s in the box? Hints:
• something Christmas-connected
• something tea-connected
• 2 somethings France-connected
• 2 somethings writing-connected
And, of course, the box is a prize in itself!

 

 

 

 

Post your guesses here: https://www.facebook.com/susana.ellis.5/posts/pfbid0diGAkyzVa6nK42DAqRRDFqkgYGz6hQkU3q4wnacSCJVLaptZG6FroLdj1AfQeUql

Contest ends December 1, 2024. The entry with the most correct answers will win the prize. In the event of a tie, the winner will be chosen randomly.

About the Bluestocking Belles

The Bluestocking Belles (the “BellesInBlue”) are eight very different writers united by a love of history and a history of writing about love. From sweet to steamy, from light-hearted fun to dark tortured tales full of angst, from London ballrooms to country cottages to the sultan’s seraglio, one or more of us will have a tale to suit your tastes and mood.

Website: www.BluestockingBelles.net/

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/dAJU_9

Teatime Tattler twice-weekly gossip magazine: https://bluestockingbelles.net/category/teatime-tattler/

Free books: https://bluestockingbelles.net/teatime-tattler-free-books/

Find buy links and story blurbs for all the following books on our website at https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/

What’s a Pandora Doll? A Seamstress, A Soldier, and A Secret

Jul29

Susana and her sisters have just discovered that they are going to participate in the Season in York, and they are excitedly planning how to manage wardrobes for the seven older girls when they have scarcely enough money for one. Thankfully, Susana is a quasi-professional dressmaker, and she can help them create a wardrobe that all can share with enough clever disguises.

“You know, Susana, I think there are some gowns and things of Mama’s up in the attic. Perhaps from our stepmothers as well, although I believe Martin removed his mother’s things for Chloe.”

“Well, he can just bring them right back, since our stepsister is to be presented too.” They knew Chloe well; she’d lived with them until her mother’s death, when her brother Martin and their guardian, their mother’s brother, took her in. She visited her half-sisters Emma and Merri occasionally. And Martin, relieved to have Patience take on Chloe’s presentation, had eagerly provided funds to pay for the ball. And her wardrobe, so that was one sister Susana did not have to clothe.

“Let’s take a look.”

It had been years since she had perused her mother’s things. Nine years since her death, when the maids had packed up her possessions and banished them to the attic. And fortunate indeed that they had made their way to Starbrook after the family had been exiled from the main house. No doubt the newest Lady Seahaven would have organized a bonfire for all of her predecessors’ belongings.

Not a nice thought, she chided herself. But it was hard to think well of the usurping Seaheavens, who had inherited and dislodged them from the home they had known all their lives.

Mama, she thought as they opened one of the chests that held her things. You were the same age as Barbara when you left us. How I wish you were still here.

The Lady Seahavens hadn’t moved much in society, as their thoughtless husband saw no need to take them along when he traveled to London, for Parliament, and other things. His ladies had no need of extravagant gowns. But they did socialize with the local gentry, so Doro and Susana did find a few of their mother’s evening gowns. Of course, they were nine years out of fashion, but Susana thought she could make them work with a few alterations. The trims were a bit worse for wear, but there might be a way to revive them.

“Oh, look at this!” 

Doro held out a doll, about sixteen inches long, wrapped in delicate tissue paper. The head and body were carved of a single piece of wood; the legs were of wood too but separately attached to the torso. The upper arms were formed of stuffed linen, also attached to the torso, wooden lower arms and hands attached to those.

“I remember this!” cried Susana. “Mama showed it to me once and said it was made to resemble the Duchess of Devonshire. See the hairstyle and the wide bonnet! She has all the undergarments too! And the sash: she’s dressed for the 1784 election campaign. Mama said her grandfather had it made for her. It wasn’t a toy, though. It’s a Pandora. A fashion doll. That’s why she wouldn’t let me play with it.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Doro wistfully. “It shouldn’t be left in old trunk.”

“If we put it out somewhere, we’ll have to be sure Emma and Merri don’t get their hands on it.”

“And Jane,” Doro added absent-mindedly. “Look at the quality of the material—the stockings, the chemise, the petticoats. And there’s a corset too—looks exactly like the real thing!”

Susana ran her finger along the blue silk overdress. “The silk is very fine. I would say French, coming from that era.” She turned to the reverse side and gasped. “It’s English. It’s stamped Macclesfield Silks.”

Macclesfield Silks. Where Blaise had gone to work. With a man called Thomas Pemberton.

“Doro,” she said slowly. “What was our mother’s birth name?”

Doro squeezed her eyes shut. “We never met them, for some reason. Mama never spoke of them. I suppose they disapproved of her marriage, although most people would be over the clouds happy for their daughter to marry an earl.” She grabbed Susana’s arm. “Pemberton! Her name was Maryann Pemberton!”

Susana’s mouth fell open. Could it be true? She and Doro and Barbara related to the Thomas Pemberton of Macclesfield Silks?

“A cup of tea,” she said. “I need a cup of tea.”

Pandora Dolls

Many of you know that I collect fashion prints. I have a ton of them and love them all. But in the time prior to fashion prints, there were fashion dolls. One of them was called a Pandora.

How on earth was a fashionable lady in the 18th century able to keep up with the latest trends? The answer was the Pandora, or miniature dolls dressed up in the latest modes. Keep in mind, this was long before magazines were invented—and the first ones were incredibly rare and expensive, as they were hand-painted by groups of (probably shockingly underpaid) little girls and young women! Clothing was also far more expensive than it is today, so it was important to know all the details of the cut, colour and fabric that you wanted.

In 1712, when Britain and France were at war with each other, Pandora dolls were exempt from the ban on enemy imports, and even received a military escort! Marie-Antoinette, when preparing to go over to France from Austria, got sent a host of these dolls in different fabrics and fashions.

https://thatmuse.com/2019/11/08

Today, fashion victims use fashion magazines, shows etc. to become informed about fashion news. But what sources did they use in the 18 th century to catch the latest trends when none of these media existed? Long before the first Barbie appeared, there already existed a doll that wore lavish wardrobe and matching accessories but didn’t function as a toy at all. This paper examines how a doll called Pandora was sent abroad by French dressmakers to promote and sell Parisian fashion around the world. First, Pandora had to conquer the royal houses in Europe. Then, she made her way into the department stores and finally into the bourgeois home. Interestingly, her triumphal procession did not stop there: By the middle of the 18th century she had even crossed the Atlantic to be exhibited in Boston and New York….

The doll’s body and head were carved by hand from one piece of wood, which had been turned on a lathe. The legs were made separately and attached at the hips and knees to the Pandora’s body. The lower arms and hands were also crafted of wood; in contrast the upper arms were ‘[…] made of either soft linen fabric or kid leather, attached to the torso’. Most dolls had painted eyes, but some of them had sparkling glass eyes, which was more labour-intensive because for this purpose the doll maker had to carve diamond-shaped holes into the head and then inserted blown glass balls….

Furthermore, the fashion dolls all had either painted hair or wore wigs made of flax or wool. The hair of the dolls was designed to be worn in the popular style of the time because it was absolutely essential that besides wearing the right clothes, the Pandora had the latest hairstyle as well as accessories that matched her wardrobe. Interestingly, although most 18 th century dolls represented women or girls, there also existed male, boy and even infant dolls. Unfortunately, the vast majority of these fashion figures of the late 17 th and early 18 th century have not withstood the test of time. This is due to two reasons: Firstly, the unwieldy size of the dolls and secondly, the material that was used to make them….

An English 18th –century fashion doll in the Fashion Gallery at the V&A. There are 6 fashion dolls in the same room.

Intended as advertisement for the French fashion and the dressmakers, the dolls functioned as mannequins and were dressed in a petite-size version of everything a fashionable woman needed to wear, including the proper foundation garments, which meant that the Pandoras were outfitted head to toe and displayed the latest fashions concerning clothes and hairstyle. ‘By the seventeenth century, when these French figures were known as “Pandora,“the dressing of the head and hair was as important as the garment’. The doll’s outer garment was a dress made of highest quality cloth: linen, cotton, wool brocade or silk, followed by a petticoat or multiple layers of petticoats, which gave the dress or skirt the desired fashionable shape. The hoop petticoat or wicker, also known as panier, was part of the women’s underwear and consisted of a basket. ‘They [the petticoats] could get as wide as 18 feet (5 metres), and satirists talked of hoops of 7 or 8 yards (6 or 7 metres) wide’. The extremely wide framework of the hoop made it difficult for women to walk through the doors, sit down on a chair or in a coach. Some even wore a stomacher, which was in fashion throughout the 17 th and 18 th century in Europe and North America. The stomacher was a v-shaped piece of fabric made either of the same material as the dress or of contrasting materials. It was worn across the chest and stomach and embroidered or decorated with pearls or other gemstones. Other key characteristics of women’s clothing that were also part of the fashion dolls’ outfit were corsets and linen shifts. Knitted stockings, shoes, a muslin cap and jewellery often completed the outfit.

Another question is: who were the potential buyers of the fashion dolls? First, the dressmakers and tailors purchased the fashion doll. Above all the Pandoras functioned as display and show items. Since fashion was extremely expensive, the rich costumers wanted to have a look at what they were going to spend their money on….

The French doll makers received orders from all over the world, since almost every British women of that time wanted to have their one little mannequin to keep abreast with the latest Parisian fashion trends. In the Augustan Age it was very common not only to adopt the French customs, etiquette, lifestyle and manners but also the clothing fashions. It is remarkable how widely the dolls were distributed geographically in the 18 th century. They were not only dispatched throughout Europe but were also shipped across the Atlantic. Travelling around the world in the name of fashion, the Pandoras took over two functions: on the one hand, they were the ideal advertising vehicle for French fashion; on the other hand, they served as a kind of diplomatic representation of France. The fashion doll became one of the most important and popular French export goods.

“New” Fashion Dolls on Etsy

And then I discovered that newly-created French court fashion dolls can be purchased on Etsy. You might have to sell your family heirlooms to buy them, but one can dream!

 

 

Desperate Daughters gets another daughter

Dec19

Susana Bigglesworth finally gets her Happy-Ever-After with Blaise Arquette

“So, tell me the reason for this meeting,” began Susana as they all gathered around the fire in the small drawing room. “Any suitors in tow? Anyone deathly ill? I did wonder about it, you know, when I received your letter, Patience.”

She had unpacked her satchel in Doro’s (who mostly resided at the Hampton Hotel in Harrogate where she worked) and Josefina’s room, had a bit of a wash, and snacked on a plate of bread and cheese and tea prepared by their housekeeper, the loyal Mrs. Crewe.

“Oh dear!” cried her stepmother. “I didn’t mean to worry you, Susana. I made sure to post your letter early, as you were so far away.”

“I suspected as much,” Susana said easily. “And it gave me time to make arrangements for my absence.” She pushed away a twinge of regret for those she left behind. One person in particular. Who would be leaving himself on the morrow.

“I’m glad you are doing so well there,” said her stepmother with a satisfied sigh. “But I could have given you a hint of this meeting’s purpose to prevent you from unnecessary worry.”

“We’ve had no hint either,” protested Josefina, who at nineteen filled the median position between the older and the younger sisters. The latter group echoed her objection. “Why all the secrecy?” “Are we getting a stepfather?” “Tell us now, Mother!”

“Now that’s a novelty,” commented Barbara, who predated Susana by two years. “We’ve had four stepmothers (some of us), but never even one stepfather. Do tell us, Stepmother Number Five.”

Patience rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. I shan’t marry again. You girls are my family now, and I can’t conceive of any man taking on a woman with ten children.”

“You’re young yet, Patience. Same age as Doro and younger than Barbara, Susana, and me,” disputed Bess. “We shan’t be on your hands forever.”

“Certainly not.” “Of course not.” Her sisters echoed, followed by a silence characterized by the fidgeting of body parts, the biting of lips, the clasping of hands together, and the clearing of throats. Where are the suitors? There are no suitors. Susana thought the words were echoing through the minds of all present. No one wanted to say such a thing; they were managing to support themselves with the efforts of all who were capable, but it wasn’t suitable for a permanent situation. Susana, for one, wished to marry and have children of her own, and she was certain her other sisters did as well. But who wanted to marry penniless, essentially dowerless women, titled though they were?

“We shall see,” Patience hinted, deliberately raising her eyebrows. “I do have a lovely surprise for all of you, but you won’t persuade me to reveal it until tomorrow.”

Waves of moans and objections filled the room. “Why not?” “Tell us now, Mama.” “I won’t sleep a wink imagining what it might be.”

“Be it as it may, tomorrow, Twelfth Day, is the appointed time, and you will all be told in the morning. After breakfast.”

More groans and moans.

“Your sisters are exhausted, Dorothy from working at the hotel all day, and Susana from traveling from Leeds. We must all be refreshed and ready to take on a new and exciting challenge.”

Doro and Susana objected, but Patience was firm. “Tomorrow will be soon enough. However,” she said, turning to Susana, “we are all eager to hear about your experiences in Leeds. Your letters indicate that the dressmaking is going well, is that not right?”

Susana blushed. “Yes, it is, rather. I just completed a large project, an entire trousseau, which meant we had to start a waiting list for other customers.”

“Of course,” remarked Iris, loyally. “You make the best gowns anywhere.”

“No doubt about it,” added her twin Ivy, followed by a chorus of like sentiments around the room.

“A very useful skill indeed,” pondered their stepmother.

This story was written for the readers of the original version of Desperate Daughters who expressed concern over the absence of Susana’s story, since she played a key part in the other sisters’ stories.

Her story deserves to be told.

If you have yet to purchase Desperate Daughters, you can find it here:

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/u/bMwL17

After January 1, 2024:

To update your Kindle book version, go to Manage Your Content and Devices. Search for Desperate Daughters. If available, select Update Available, then select Update.)

Susana Ellis is a retired teacher, part-time caregiver, sewist, cook, and fashion print collector. Lifelong reading and a fascination with history led her to writing historical romances. She is one of the original Bluestocking Belles and is a member of the Regency Fiction Writers and the Maumee Valley Romance Authors Inc.

Susana’s 2019 Adventure in England: Day One

May8

May 7-8: Travel and Preparations

I like the cubicle near the windows. So much more private there!

In my experience, the first and second days sort of meld together. Those lost six hours from Chicago to London make you feel out of whack for awhile, no matter whether you travel economy or first class. I’ve never done first class, but if I can accumulate enough miles on my British Airways card to go business class, it’s definitely preferable to being squashed together like sardines in economy. In business class you can stretch out your legs (if you’re 5’6″ or under) and enjoy a bit of privacy in your own little cubicle. I don’t really sleep much, though. The arm rest gets in the way, especially if you try to sleep on your side. I end up tossing and turning and hoping I’m not disturbing the passenger on the other side of the divider. STILL beats coach travel out of the water, though. Even better, you get out sooner than everyone else and you fast-track through security and immigration. THAT little perk is worth its weight in platinum—I’ve spent two hours waiting to get through immigration when everyone is tired and cranky, hoping my taxi driver will still be there waiting for me when I get through.

I want to say a few words extolling the Airbus a380. This amazing plane has two boarding levels, which cuts boarding time in half. Those of us on the top level filed in through the top door; the bottom level had its own door. The lavatories are significantly larger than the tiny cubicles on most planes, and even have a little padded bench for changing baby diapers. I wonder how mothers managed to do it before now. Must have been pretty miserable.

Another perk of traveling business class is the airline lounge. You can go there and enjoy snacks, drinks, and a meal while you wait for your flight. Also television and wifi out of the madding crowds of the massive airport. And they’ll announce when your flight is boarding so you don’t risk missing it.

British Airways Business Class Lounge Chicago O’Hare Airport

So, getting through immigration was a whiz, and eventually my driver found me. (How it took him so long I’ll never understand. He was supposed to look for the lady with the pink and white hair. I was the ONLY one!) Turned out he’s the same Sri Lankan driver I had last year. Still wants to match me up with a Sri Lankan. He doesn’t quite “get” that some women prefer being single. But I enjoy listening to people’s opinions, and he certainly has a lot of them.

Once I got into my flat on Crawford Street (near Baker Street in Marylebone), I fell into bed for a couple of hours. Turned on the TV and caught Prince Harry and Meghan showing off their sweet baby. Cutie pie! But I was hungry and there was no food in the flat. Also, I needed to replace the SIM card in my UK phone so I’d have a phone to use when necessary. Walked down to Oxford Street to Selfridge’s, but the Carphone Warehouse is no longer there, so I had to walk a few more blocks to find a place who could do it. While I was waiting, some customers walked off with some merchandise from the store. Something small. But it reminded me that there are pickpockets everywhere on Oxford Street. It pays to be aware of what’s going on around you.

The Bond Street Tube Station was nearby, so I took the Tube to Baker Street—after a frappuccino from Starbuck’s. I was feeling weak from hunger, and that really helped. Interestingly enough, after I got onto a train, a young man sitting in a priority seat got up and let me have his seat. Wasn’t that sweet? He said he was getting off at the next stop, but so was I. It reminded me that wherever there are thieves and villains, there are also very nice people who will give you the shirt of their back (or at least their seat on the subway).

Upon leaving Baker Street Station, I crossed the street and had some cannelloni at the Pizza Express, one of my regular places. Then I purchased some food at the Tesco Express and returned to my flat. Where the construction crew was still pounding and sawing outside my window and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Oh well. It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with that at this flat. Do you believe this is the SIXTH time I’ve stayed here in six years?

 

At one point during the day I got soaked from rain, a few other times was sprinkled on, but most of the time it was pretty decent. A bit windy and chilly, but hey, it RAINS in England! No big deal.

 

Turning in early tonight. Sorry I won’t make it today’s tea party. Next week for sure!

The Bluestocking Belles: Valentines from Bath

Jan4

 

The Master of Ceremonies announces a great ball to be held on Valentine’s Day in the Upper Assembly Rooms of Bath. Ladies of the highest rank—and some who wish they were—scheme, prepare, and compete to make best use of the opportunity. Dukes, earls, tradesmen, and the occasional charlatan are alert to the possibilities as the event draws nigh.

But anything can happen in the magic of music and candlelight as couples dance, flirt, and open themselves to romantic possibilities. Problems and conflict may just fade away at a Valentine’s Day Ball.

25% of proceeds benefit the Malala Fund.

Beauty and the Bounder

by Jessica Cale

He’s a liar and a fortune-hunter… and exactly what she needs.

The moment Lady Emilia sets eyes on the Chevalier d’Aubusson, she knows their fates are tied together. For good or ill, she cannot say. A mysterious aristocrat with a tragic past, the chevalier makes waves with his considerable charm.

But the chevalier is not as he seems. There are cracks in his story, and Emilia never could resist a mystery. Whether he’s a gentleman or a bounder, he might just be the man for her.

The Earl Takes a Wife

by Sherry Ewing

It began with a memory, etched in the heart.

Lady Celia Lacey is too young for a husband, especially man-about-town Lord Adrian de Courtenay. But when she meets him at a house party, she falls in love.

Adrian finds the appealing innocent impossible to forget, though she is barely out of the schoolroom and a relative by marriage.

His sister’s deceptions bring them together, but destroys their happiness. Can they reach past the hurt to the love that still burns?

 

The Beast Next Door

by Jude Knight

In all the assemblies and parties, no-one Charis met could ever match the beast next door.

Charis Fishingham has always felt more at home at Eastwood—Beastwood, as the neighbours called it, after the flawed child who once lived there. In the Eastwood gardens, Charis can escape her mother’s expectations, her sisters’ chatter, and her own worries about her future. There, she reads and remembers her secret friend, long gone into exile to have his birthmarks removed at his family’s command.

Now the Beast has returned. Eric Lord Wayford would rather face the surgeons of Naples and Napoleon’s armies than the tongues of the ton. He joyfully greets Charis, and their future looks to be full of hope.

But someone does not wish Charis to wed the Beast of Beastwood, and will stop at nothing to keep them apart.

 

The Umbrella Chronicles: John and Emma’s Story

by Amy Quinton

A serious-minded, scientific man of learning seeks a complex and chaotic practitioner of all things superstitious who will upend his well-ordered life.

The Umbrella Strikes Again! Another Bachelor Has Fallen!

England, 1815

Dr. John Edward Hartwell needs assistance, though not quite the kind of help he might think. True, he is well-organized, tidy, and pathologically set in his ways—a more serious-minded man one might never find.

But in his ways, I have determined, lies misery.

Enter Miss Emma Merryweather—a woman who is as lovely as she is chaotic. She is the perfect candidate to compliment our man of numbers and logical focus, bringing sunshine and superstition to redirect him away from a future of certain wretchedness.

And now that she has been categorically convinced that they are destined to be together—the signs, you see—no one can stand in her way, for she is as tenacious and optimistic as she is beautiful.

And none can resist her smile.

If I have anything to say about matters, and I always have something to say about matters, the signs will point the way.

They already have.

Lady Harriett Ross,

Self-proclaimed Motley Meddler * Mistress of Destiny * Wielder of the Infamous Umbrella

I’m just an old woman with opinions. On everything.

 

Candles in the Dark

by Caroline Warfield

Doug Marsh and his candles bring light to many, none more than Esther.  They may light the Assembly Rooms even as his love lights her life.

Doug Marsh knew what the army expected of him. Invalided out, he struggles to run his uncle’s candle-works and look after those dependent on it. A contract with the Bath Assembly Rooms would go a long way toward succeeding at both of those things. The plight of a young woman is a distraction he doesn’t need.

Esther Hopkins, formerly ‘the Honorable’, has no time to mourn the life denied her by a single mistake. A woman alone with a new-born son to raise needs work, and she is determined to make it on her own. If only she could stop yearning for the sturdy arms and kind blue eyes of the man who rescued her from starvation and enlisted the entire Marsh Candle Works to her support. But Sergeant Marsh shows nothing but benevolent interest in her welfare. Why should he care for a fallen woman?

In the normal course of things Esther is far above Doug’s touch. Can he find the courage to court her and still take care of business at the same time?

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About the Bluestocking Belles

The Bluestocking Belles (the “BellesInBlue”) are ten very different writers united by a love of history and a history of writing about love. From sweet to steamy, from light-hearted fun to dark tortured tales full of angst, from London ballrooms to country cottages to the sultan’s seraglio, one or more of us will have a tale to suit your tastes and mood.

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New Release: The Marriage Obligation

Jul31

Admiral Cornelius Hardcastle met his future wife Léonie at the Siege of Toulon. Their daughter Cornelia is the heroine of The Marriage Obligation.

The fictional character of Admiral Hardcastle is based on Admiral Sir Benjamin Hallowell Carew, whose ship, the HMS Leviathan, took part in the evacuation of allied troops and royalist civilians being persuaded by the Republican army.

Siège_de_Toulon

The Siege of Toulon

The Siege of Toulon (29 August – 19 December 1793) was a military operation by Republican forces against a Royalist rebellion in the southern French city of Toulon.

After a series of insurrections against the Republicans within the French cities of Lyon, Avignon, Nîmes, and Marseille, Republicans managed to recapture Marseille and punish them with severe reprisals. Upon hearing this, Toulon, which was currently in the hands of Royalist forces, called for aid from the Anglo-Spanish fleet.  On 28 August, Admiral Sir Samuel Hood of the Royal Navy and Admiral Juan de Lángara of the Spanish Navy, committed a force of 13,000 British, Spanish, Neapolitan and Piedmontese troops to the French Royalists’ cause. This was a serious blow to the Republicans, since Toulon had a key naval arsenal and was the base for 26 ships (about a third of the French navy). On 1 October, Baron d’Imbert proclaimed the young Louis XVII to be king of France, and hoisted the French Royalist flag of the fleur de lys, delivering the town of Toulon to the British navy.

Les_coalises_evacuent_Toulon_en_decembre_1793

By 16 December, however, the Republicans (among them a young Bonaparte), managed to push past the Allied troops toward the waterfront. At that point, Lángara gave the order to destroy the French ships. While that was going on, Hood had ordered HMS Robust under Captain George Elphinstone and HMS Leviathan under Captain Benjamin Hallowell Carew to evacuate the allied troops from the waterfront. In addition to the soldiery, the British squadron and their boats took on board thousands of French Royalist refugees, who had flocked to the waterfront when it became clear that the city would fall to the Republicans. Robust, the last to leave, carried more than 3,000 civilians from the harbour and another 4,000 were recorded on board Princess Royal out in the roads. In total the British fleet rescued 14,877 Toulonnais from the city; witnesses on board the retreating ships reported scenes of panic on the waterfront as stampeding civilians were crushed or drowned in their haste to escape the advancing Republican soldiers, who fired indiscriminately into the fleeing populace.

Wikipedia

Author’s Note: I’ve advanced Cornelia’s age five years for the purpose of this story. An author’s prerogative!

About The Marriage Obligation

Cornelia Hardcastle has been determined never to marry since she was eighteen and discovered an ugly family secret. Now that she’s twenty-four, however, her parents want to see her settled so they can move to Canada for her father’s prestigious new government post. Not a chance!

The second son of a viscount, Preston Warrington is more than happy to leave the viscount business to his brother so he can travel the world in search of adventure. His recent stint as a spy for the British in the War with the French has come to an end, and he’s getting pressured to marry and settle down. Hell no!

How could the notorious Marriage Maker from Inverness all the way in Scotland possibly know that these two marriage-averse individuals are perfect for each other?

Excerpt

Note: At this point in the story, Cornelia has confessed her terrible secret to Preston, her husband-in-name-only.

He took her hand and led her back to the folly. “There, you got it out. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She tilted her head to look at him. “You’re not—shocked? Disgusted?”

He squeezed her hand and looked directly into her eyes. “Surprised, yes, certainly. Disgusted? I don’t quite understand your meaning, Cornelia.” His eyes widened. “Unless you are thinking—surely not—that I should be disgusted by you!”

She burst into tears. He pulled her trembling body into his arms and held her against him until her body quieted and the tears slowed, eventually turning into occasional hiccups. When she raised her head from his chest, he handed her his handkerchief. “Shall we sit down? When you are ready, you can tell me what it is that has you so distressed.”

Dabbing at her eyes, she nodded and allowed him to guide her back to the stone seat. 

“I must look a mess,” she said finally, in a shaky voice.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his hand making gentle circles on the surface of her back.

She made a face. “Liar. I’ve seen my face in this condition before. Red eyes, splotchy cheeks, shiny nose. Definitely not a good look for me.”

In response, he reached over and turned her face toward his before capturing her lips with his for a tender kiss. Her sweet response tempted him to deepen it into something more passionate, but he sensed she was not ready for that and reined in his desire.

“Do you still believe I was lying, my dear?” he said as their kiss ended.

She swallowed. “Perhaps you were just being kind.”

Well, then. If she did indeed need more convincing, he would be more than pleased to deliver it.

He took her face in his hands again and kissed her again, this time with more pressure, then pulling away slightly to tease her lips with his tongue, before probing between them with his tongue. Her eyes widened with surprise, but far from protesting, she pressed closer to him, her arms floating to his shoulders. She smelled of violets and tasted like a combination of innocence and passion. His hands drifted to her hair, where his gentle caresses caught on pins and sent dark locks spilling down her back. When her eyes widened, he took her lips again, this time plunging his tongue between her teeth and coercing a timid response from hers.  His hands floated down her back, lightly touching the side of her breasts before settling possessively at her waist. 

Mine. My woman. This woman was made for me. She has to know it too.

When they finally pulled apart, she looked down, flushed and breathing hard.

“Well?” he said when he found himself able to talk again. “Was that a ‘just being kind’ kiss, do you think?”

She looked up at him, her eyes lit with a mischievous glow. “You’ve proved your point. There was nothing ‘kind’ about it. I must allow that you are a magnificent kisser, Preston.”

His breath quickened. “There is nothing I would like better than to kiss you like that every day. Several times, in fact. I am convinced that we could have an exemplary partnership, my dear, if we were to make our marriage a real one.”

Amazon

 

Susana’s Author Pals: Blair Bancroft

Apr2

Susana read many of Blair Bancroft’s Regency romances in print and digital form long before she joined the Central Florida Romance Writers and met her in person. That was when she discovered some of Blair’s other outstanding talents: singing, acting, directing, and piano, in addition to blogging and editing. Blair (Grace) has shown herself to be very kind, supportive, and helpful to new authors in both the CFRW and the Beau Monde chapters of RWA. Having been a caregiver herself, she understands the challenges Susana faces during her winter sojourn in Florida when she cares for her dad.

About Blair Bancroft (Grace Ann Kone)

Blair came to writing late, partly because she had a desire to pursue a singing career and partly because her mother was a highly successful children’s book author, and it never occurred to Blair it was possible to have two such exotic creatures as an author in one family. So music was the order of the day. During college years at Brown and Boston University’s School of Music, Blair was fortunate enough to participate in operas under the direction of Sarah Caldwell and also find time for BU’s theater productions, musical and non-musical.

After five years of teaching music to elementary school students in Connecticut, Blair finally set out for New York City, where she became one of the nuns in the National Company of The Sound of Music (with Florence Henderson starring as Maria von Trapp). She also directed off-stage choruses, played piano for on-road rehearsals, and trained all replacements.

But teaching—and the lure of home and family—drew her back to New England, where she taught music in Newton, Massachusetts, and directed a production of The King and I at Newton High School. Then it was back to Connecticut for marriage, three children, and confining her performing to church. She also branched out into a new field—becoming editor of an educational publishing company, a job that lasted for the next twenty years. After moving to Florida in the 80s, she worked at a variety of jobs, from real estate to church secretary, while doing a huge amount of transportation for a daughter who was following in her footsteps as a soloist. Only after Blair’s youngest went off to college did she get one last crack at the theater, playing Mrs. Peachum in a Sarasota production of The Threepenny Opera.

Blair greatly admires women who seem to be able to do it all: handle a job, husband, children, and still find time to write. She could not. Although she “dabbled” in writing a time or two, she did not do any serious writing until her husband of twenty-five years had a stroke and she became a full-time caregiver—for the next nine years.

It took eight of those to find a publisher. Well, actually, the publisher (the now defunct Starlight Writer Publications) found her. The editor had been a judge in a contest Blair entered and requested Tarleton’s Wife as one of the initial offerings of their new company (December 1999). (Tarleton’s Wife , Blair’s Golden Heart winner, is now on its fifth incarnation and is still selling, after nearly twenty years. It also won a Best Romance award from the Florida Writers Association.)

And just that quickly, Blair’s luck changed. She was offered a contract by Kensington’s Precious Gem line and within the same year sold her first Regency to Signet (Penguin Putnam), for whom she wrote five more before the line was closed. That first Regency, titled by Signet The Indifferent Earl, won Romantic Time’s Best Regency award. (It is now available online under its original title: The Courtesan’s Letters.)

After Signet shut down their traditional Regency (think Jane Austen) line, Blair went back to where she started: epublishing, working for two different epublishers before going independent in 2011 and publishing subsequent books through Amazon Kindle and Smashwords. Blair is a strong advocate for independent publishing, for being your own boss. In addition to continually expanding her inventory to a variety of genres, she has been offering Writing and Editing tips on her blog, Grace’s Mosaic Moments, since January 2011—where she enjoys sharing all she’s learned since she started typing her mother’s manuscripts when she was a freshman in high school!

Blair reports that when she finishes Book 4 of her Blue Moon rising series, and if she counts two previously published books awaiting indie pub, she has written 40 books since the mid 90s. She is also working on organizing seven-plus years of blogs on Writing and Editing into book form, which she hopes to make available by Fall 2018.

Blair has not forgotten her musical training, singing regularly—and sometimes soloing—in the choir of the Episcopal Church of the Resurrection in Longwood, Florida.

She may have come to writing late, but Blair doesn’t hesitate to say she loves it. As an “out of the mist” author, Blair’s favorite comment on her writing is: “I can hardly wait to get up each morning and find out what my characters are going to do today.”

March 18, 2018

Hidden Danger, Hidden Heart

Destroyed crops in Florida and Spain. Acts of terror? Corporate warfare? Or simply businesses held to ransom? Whatever the motive, Ashley van Dyne, president of an organic foods business, needs the tough Hispanic entrepreneur, Rafe Guererro, to help her put a stop to the damaging sabotage. The resulting cultural clash of both business and romance resounds across two continents. And, as if the problem weren’t big enough already, they both have teenage relatives caught up in the ongoing disaster.

Amazon

The Blackthorne Curse

After the death of her father, young Serafina Blackthorne of New Haven, Connecticut, becomes a reverse immigrant, traveling from the New World to the Old. To her grandfather, who lives on Dartmoor, a place where eerie legends abound and where she discovers, to her horror, she is marked for death by the Blackthorne Curse. The more Serafina attempts to outmaneuver the Curse, the more she seems to jump from the frying pan into the fire. She finally has but one hope left. But does her childhood friend really want to save her, or is he destined to be her executioner?

Author’s Note: This book is a Gothic novel set in the Regency period—a style of story where a young woman finds herself basically alone and battling threats to her life, some from humans, some from possibly supernatural sources. But in spite of all the angst, it is also a romance. I hope you will enjoy reading this tale in a style made famous by Victoria Holt, Mary Stewart, and Phyllis Whitney as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Amazon

Never Too Late: A Bluestocking Belles Collection

Sep25

Eight authors and eight different takes on four dramatic elements selected by our readers—an older heroine, a wise man, a Bible, and a compromising situation that isn’t.

Set in a variety of locations around the world over eight centuries, welcome to the romance of the Bluestocking Belles’ 2017 Holiday and More Anthology.

Special Pre-order Sale just $0.99 

After November 15th: $2.99

We’re still working on the rest of the retailer links but just in case you want to take advantage of our special pre-order price, jump on over to Amazon and order your copy now. The release date for NEVER TOO LATE is November 4th. Remember, 25% of the sales from the Belles’ box sets benefit our mutual charity, The Malala Fund. You, too, can make a difference in the life of a young woman or child by contributing to this worthy cause!

Amazon:

US: http://amzn.to/2y6oBg7
AU: http://amzn.to/2fycyAx
BR: http://amzn.to/2wjyWkm
CA: http://amzn.to/2yFvxxS
DE: http://amzn.to/2xA0Udb
ES: http://amzn.to/2yFIgk4
FR: http://amzn.to/2yF7gbg
IN: http://amzn.to/2fzQkhv
IT: http://amzn.to/2xzPPbW
JP: http://amzn.to/2xK5yqS
MX: http://amzn.to/2xJTlCK
NL: http://amzn.to/2hvRYkV
UK: http://amzn.to/2fyBesx

iBooks:

http://apple.co/2yY4gXC

Kobo:

http://bit.ly/2fK7vJR

Nook:

http://bit.ly/2y63988

Smashwords:

http://bit.ly/2xDMQkb

Print – $18.99

http://amzn.to/2zQ36Ny


The Piper’s Lady by Sherry Ewing

True love binds them. Deceit divides them. Will they choose love?
Coira does not regret traveling with her grandfather until she is too old to wed. But perhaps it is not too late? At Berwyck Castle, a dashing knight runs to her rescue. How can she resist?

Garrick can hold his own with the trained Knights of Berwyck, but they think of him as a piper, not a fighter. When his heart sings for the new resident of the castle, he dares to wish he is something he is not. Will failure to clear her misunderstanding doom their love before it begins?

Excerpt

“You saved me,” she whispered in a shaky tone. “You are truly a gallant knight to rescue me. Your liege lord must value you as one of his warriors.”

Warrior? Him? He opened his mouth to correct her assumption but could not find the words. He knew she would think less of him if she but knew he was only the clan’s piper.

“Are ye harmed?” he murmured, still holding the pleasing womanly curves of the lady who had not yet moved from atop him. Her brow rose, and Garrick inwardly cursed knowing there was no way to hide his Scottish accent.

“Nay, but only because of your ability to move so quickly. Thank you, Sir…” She left her sentence linger in the air between them.

“Garrick,” he answered, giving her his name, “of Clan MacLaren.”

“My thanks, Sir Garrick,” she replied with a kind smile.

They seemed to come to the realization the lists had become eerily silent with the exception of one person running in their direction.

“Get your hands off her!” a voice bellowed.

Before either of them could move, the woman was ripped from his arms, and Garrick saw her enveloped in the fierce embrace of Morgan. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and Garrick could not help the feeling of jealousy assaulting his emotions and tugging at his heartstrings.

“Coira! By St. Michael’s Wings you gave me such a fright, woman,” Morgan scolded in concern. Setting her down upon her feet, he proceeded to clasp both her cheeks afore placing kisses on each.

Her Wounded Heart by Nicole Zoltack

An injured knight trespassing on Mary Bennett’s land is a threat to the widow’s
already frail refuge. Even so, she cannot turn away a man in need and tells him he has her husband’s leave to stay until Christmas.

Doran Ward wishes only to survive for one more day. However, as he begins to
heal and to pay for his lodgings by fixing the rundown manor, the wounds to Mistress Bennett’s heart intrigue him.

Can two desperate souls find hope in time for Christmas?

Excerpt 

To her surprise, her guest had laid out a few vegetables, and she set about cutting them without saying a word to him.

At one point, he reached across her for another knife.

She stiffened and jerked back.

“My apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“Do not touch me,” she said, fear melting into anger in her voice. “My husband is a very strong and angry man. He shall take exception to anyone who dares to touch me.”

“Will he be joining us for dinner?” he asked as if unfazed.

She did not like to lie to him. Lying, after all, was a sin. But she also must protect herself.

“No,” she said shortly. “He already ate and has retired for the evening.”

“So it shall be only the two of us?” He glanced over his shoulder at the chunks of meat he had cooking over the fierce fire.

“Aye. You can brine-cure the meat we do not eat.”

“Very well.” He never did grab the knife but returned to tending to the meat.

Soon enough, she added the vegetables to a pot, along with some of his meat. A short time later, the stew was finished.

The man brought over two bowls. She stared at the wooden spoons in her hands. Her husband had lost their silver in yet another game.

Another sign to alert him that all is not well here.

Head back, she took a deep breath. Matters such as they were, she had no other recourse. As cold as the house was despite fires, she could not imagine anyone surviving the night out of doors. Would her good intentions spell even more doom for herself?

A Year Without Christmas by Jessica Cale 

London, 1645

Edward Rothschild returns home from war defeated in more ways than one. His friends killed and his property seized, he is an earl in name only. His family and his servants have all deserted him– all except his housekeeper, Lillian Virtue.

Lillian feels like home in a way that nothing else does, but as his servant and a recent widow, it would be impossible for them to be together. Then again, Christmas has been banned and the social order fractured; can one more impossible thing happen this year?

Excerpt

Somerton’s smile was like a bolt of lightning, a sudden flash of terrifying intensity that surprised them both. One shot of light across the darkness of his face and it was gone.
Her knees failed her suddenly and Lillian caught herself on the edge of the table just as Somerton reached out to catch her arm. His hand closed around her elbow and sent a shock up her spine.

“Are you well?”

Lillian had always held her master in the highest regard, but some part of her had feared him, as well. It was not only that her position depended upon his good graces, but he had seemed more than human to her. His presence was overwhelming and perhaps otherworldly; he had a spark of the infinite that suggested a link to the Divine. She could have easily taken him for a priest or a saint.

She had known he was objectively handsome; what she had not realized was that she thought he was handsome.

She felt her blush deepen and took a steadying breath. “Quite well, my lord. Forgive me.”
He frowned as he examined her face. “You look peaked. Join me for coffee.”

Somerton wanted her—Lillian Page, no, Virtue—to sip coffee with him in his private bedchamber? It was inappropriate, to say the least, but when she opened her mouth to object, all that came out was, “I only brought one cup.”

The Night of the Feast by Elizabeth Ellen Carter

As a spy deep in the heart of Revolutionary France, Michael St. John hopes to make amends for a wasted life his by helping the citizens of the Vendée stage a counter-revolution.

Jacqueline Archambeau, tavern owner and cook, accepts that life and love have passed her by. She never dreamed she would fight her own countrymen for the right to keep her customs and traditions.

When they plot together to steal plans at a regimental dinner will they risk their lives—and their hearts?

Excerpt 

“Bonjour.” The smile on Jacqueline’s face was unexpected, as was the greeting and he found himself returning it.

Until he felt the unmistakable press of a gun barrel at his lower back. It seemed that Madame Jacqueline was not alone.

“Your knife, monsieur.” Jacqueline held out her hand.

Michael obliged, handing the weapon over hilt first.

“So, Jacques is really Jacqueline?” he asked, feeling like the world’s greatest fool.

“And I’ll take any other weapons you might have on your person,” she continued.

He hesitated, and the barrel pressed at his back became silently insistent.

“Please?” she asked as pleasantly as if she had simply asked him to pass the butter.

Michael raised his arms, threaded his fingers, and placed them at the back of his head.

“You’ve completely disarmed me, madam, but you are welcome to check for yourself.”

Hazel eyes clouded with mistrust. Jacqueline glanced to the person behind him as though looking for instruction.

“Who sent you?”

The voice behind him was that of another woman.

Michael gritted his teeth. He would kill Colonel Jeffers when they next met. The man knew his contacts were women and thought it amusing not to tell him. To further his bona fides, Jeffers had even made him memorize the first stanza of a poem, Ode To Him Who Complains, no less, by scandalous poetess Mary Darby Robinson.

The Umbrella Chronicles: George & Dorothea’s Story

by Amy Quinton 

Lord George St. Vincent doesn’t realize it, but his days as a bachelor in good standing are numbered.

He has a fortnight, to be precise—the duration of the Marquess of Dansbury’s house party.

For I, Lady Harriett Ross, have committed to parting with several items of sentimental worth should I fail to orchestrate his downfall—er, betrothal—to Miss Dorothea Wythe, who is delightful, brilliant, and interested (or will be).

If I have anything to say about matters, and I always have something to say about matters, they’re both doomed.

Did I say doomed? I mean, destined—for a life filled with love.

Excerpt 

Without a doubt, he made her breath catch every single time he looked her way, even if only looking past her, which was pretty much all the time and kind of pitiful. But who cared? It was another secret that was all hers.

Besides, she was undoubtedly not the only woman who struggled to breathe in his presence.

Dory clenched her hands into fists and reminded herself for the millionth time that she was more of the glasses and books type (of which there were far too few in the world) than the roguish smile and flirty type (of which far too many abounded). Hence, her easy slide into spinsterhood at the ripe age of thirty-one.

Yes. St. George was blond and slender and solidly built. And he was beautiful, somehow elegantly masculine, and gloriously tall. She wasn’t the only person that understood this. Everyone acknowledged these traits as if they were all a set of facts that could be found in any book on science. Or a math fact, a proven geometrical theorem.

Like the bluestocking she was, Dory imagined writing proofs over the theory of his gentlemanly beauty. Given George St. Vincent is taller than most men. Given St. Vincent has blue eyes the color of the sky and blonde hair the color of wheat. Given George St. Vincent has a blinding smile and broad shoulders. Prove George St. Vincent is the most swoonworthy man in all of England.

Dory chuckled to herself, though she felt on the verge of hysterics.

But all of that didn’t mean he was a worthy man for her affections.

A Malicious Rumor by Susana Ellis

Vauxhall gardener Alice Crocker has had to defend herself from encroaching males all her life, but the new violinist is a different sort. So when she discovers that he is the victim of a malicious rumor, she naturally wants to help.

Peter de Luca greatly admires the lady gardener, but this is his problem to resolve.

What will it take to prove to this pair that they would be stronger together as a harmonious duo than two lonely solos?

Excerpt

Alice found her feet tapping in time to the music of the orchestra rehearsal while she inspected the site for the new illumination, which would honor the new Duke of Wellington after his victory over Bonaparte at the Battle of Paris. If only the designer had included the measurements! It was difficult to decide how to arrange the plantings without some inkling of the space requirements. With luck, the fellow himself would arrive soon, since the spectacle was planned to open the next day.

Miss Stephens must be singing tonight, she thought as she found herself humming the tune of the popular Northumberland ballad about a brave lass who rowed out in a storm to save her shipwrecked sailor beau.

O! merry row, O! merry row the bonnie, bonnie bark,

Bring back my love to calm my woe,

Before the night grows dark.

She liked the idea of a woman rescuing her man instead of the other way around. It might seem romantic to be rescued by a handsome prince, but one could not always be a damsel in distress, could one? Alice knew from her mother’s marriage that there was no happiness or romance in a marriage where one partner held all the power. She herself had no intention of placing herself in the power of any man. She would be responsible to no one but herself—and perhaps her employer, as long as she was permitted to work for a living. She narrowed her eyes. She could work as well as any man, better than some, in fact. Why did so many men feel threatened by that?

Forged in Fire by Jude Knight

Burned in their youth, neither Tad nor Lottie expected to feel the fires of love. The years have soothed the pain, and each has built a comfortable, if not fully satisfying, life, on paths that intersect and then diverge again.

But then the inferno of a volcanic eruption sears away the lies of the past and frees them to forge a future together.

Excerpt

She was nothing to him. He was sorry for her, that was all. As he’d be sorry for anyone stuck in her predicament. She’d be better off staying in New Zealand, where Mrs. Bletherow’s malice couldn’t reach her. There was work in Auckland, in shops and factories. Not that a proper English lady would consider such a thing.

She could do it, though. She wasn’t as meek as she pretended. He’d seen the steel in her, the fire in those pretty hazel eyes.

The word ‘pretty’ put a check in his stride, but it was true. She had lovely eyes. Not a pretty face, precisely. Her cheeks were too thin, her jaw too square, her nose too straight for merely ‘pretty’. But in her own way, she was magnificent. She was not as comfortably curved or as young as the females he used to chase when he was a wild youth, the sort he always thought he preferred. Not as gaudy as them, with their bright dresses and their brighter face paint. But considerably less drab than he had thought at first sight. She was a little brown hen that showed to disadvantage beside the showier feathers of the parrot, but whose feathers were a subtle symphony of shades and patterns. Besides, parrots, in his experience, were selfish, demanding creatures.

 

Roses in Picardy by Caroline Warfield

 After two years at war, Harry is out of metaphors for death, synonyms for brown, and images for darkness. Color among the floating islands of Amiens and life in the form of a widow and her little son surprise him with hope.

Rosemarie Legrand’s husband died, leaving her a tiny son, no money, and a savaged reputation. She struggles to simply feed the boy and has little to offer a lonely soldier.

Excerpt

Are men in Hell happier for a glimpse of Heaven?”

The piercing eyes gentled. “Perhaps not,” the old man said, “but a store of memories might be medicinal in coming months. Will you come back?”

Will I? He turned around to face forward, and the priest poled the boat out of the shallows, seemingly content to allow him his silence.

“How did you arrange my leave?” Harry asked at last, giving voice to a sudden insight.

“Prayer,” the priest said. Several moments later he, added, “And Col. Sutherland in the logistics office has become a friend. I suggested he had a pressing need for someone who could translate requests from villagers.”

“Don’t meddle, old man. Even if they use me, I’ll end up back in the trenches. Visits to Rosemarie Legrand would be futile in any case. The war is no closer to an end than it was two years ago.”

“Despair can be deadly in a soldier, corporal. You must hold on to hope. We all need hope, but to you, it can be life or death,” the priest said.

Life or death. He thought of the feel of the toddler on his shoulder and the colors of les hortillonnages. Life indeed.

The sound of the pole propelling them forward filled several minutes.

“So will you come back?” the old man asked softly. He didn’t appear discomforted by the long silence that followed.

“If I have a chance to come, I won’t be able to stay away,” Harry murmured, keeping his back to the priest.

“Then I will pray you have a chance,” the old man said softly.

Caroline Warfield: Lady Charlotte’s Christmas Vigil

Sep3

This beautiful cover for Caroline Warfield’s 2017 Christmas novella comes with the announcement that the book is available for pre-order from various retailers.

Love is the best medicine and the sweetest things in life are worth the wait, especially at Christmastime in Venice for a stranded English Lady and a dedicated doctor.

About Lady Charlotte’s Christmas Vigil

Lady Charlotte Tyree clings to one dream—to see the splendor of Rome before settling for life as the spinster sister of an earl. But now her feckless brother forces her to wait again, stranded in Venice when he falls ill, halfway to the place of her dreams. She finds the city damp, moldy, and riddled with disease.

As a physician, Salvatore Caresini well knows the danger of putrid fever. He lost his young wife to it, leaving him alone to care for their rambunctious children. He isn’t about to let the lovely English lady risk her life nursing her brother.

But Christmas is coming, that season of miracles, and with it, perhaps, lessons for two lonely people: that love heals the deepest wounds and sometimes the deepest dreams aren’t what we expect. Pre-order it here:

Amazon

Smashwords

About the Author

Carol Roddy – Author

Traveler, poet, librarian, technology manager—award winning and Amazon best-selling author Caroline Warfield has been many things (even a nun), but above all she is a romantic. Having retired to the urban wilds of eastern Pennsylvania, she reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to adventures while she nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart. She is enamored of history, owls, and gardens (but not the actual act of gardening). She is also a regular contributor to History Imagined, a blog at the intersection of history and fiction, and (on a much lighter note) The Teatime Tattler, a blog in the shape of a fictional nineteenth century gossip rag.

Her current series, Children of Empire, set in the late Georgian/early Victorian period, focuses on three cousins, driven apart by lies and deceit, who must find their way back from the distant reaches of the empire.

Click here to find out more.

Collette Cameron: Passion and Plunder

May22

Scottish Heather Honey

I never know what random thing my latest story will have me poking around the Internet in search of. For my Highland Heather Romancing a Scot Series, I’ve mentioned the use of heather in several of the books, hence the title. In books five and six, I ventured into the healing qualities of honey. I’d heard of the skin and medicinal benefits of honey before, and I was curious if honey from heather might have unusual properties. I was delighted at what I uncovered.

By Vicky Brock from Glasgow, UK – Honey Show 2, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=35024402

As you no doubt already know, all honey provides many benefits:

  • Reduce throat irritation and cough
  • Heals wounds and burns
  • Reduce ulcers and other gastrointestinal disorders
  • Cancer and heart disease prevention
  • Anti-bacterial and anti-fungal

Made by bees brought to the Highlands in August for the express purpose of collecting nectar from heather blossoms, Scottish heather honey is touted as having “magical healing powers” and is referred to by the Scots as the “Champagne of all honeys.” Dubbed the “Rolls Royce” of honey in Britain, many claim it’s a cheaper alternative to New Zealand’s much praised Manuka honey. A recent study found heather honey to be more effective in treating topical infections than Manuka honey.

Scottish heather honey possesses an extraordinary antiseptic property, which makes it a favored natural remedy for treating cuts and wounds. I used that tidbit in book number six in the series. It has exceptional anti-bacteria fighting abilities and is known to treat MRSA as well as three other bacteria. It’s also a powerful anti-oxidant and contains high amount of minerals and proteins. An unusual feature of the dark amber honey is its texture, characterized by high thixotropy (extremely viscous). When at rest, it’s jelly-like, but when stirred or agitated, it becomes syrupy like other honeys until it settles into a gel again. It also has a high water content.

People either adore the medium-to-strong, even slightly bitter, woody taste and lingering peaty aftertaste, or dislike the flavor intently. Scottish Heather Honey is delicious in many dishes, but isn’t recommended for tea as the flavor is too strong for the brew. And yes, it’s used in the preparation of many alcoholic spirits such as mead. Those clever Scots.

Unfortunately, honey couldn’t cure my heroine’s father in Passion and Plunder, my fifth book in my Highland Heather Romancing a Scot series, but used in a salve in the sixth book, it helped heal my hero’s scars.

Are you a fan of honey? Any particular kind? Blackberry is mine. I love it in tea and with a special kind of biscuit made from my great-grandmother’s recipe. (You’ll find the recipe in my June 1 newsletter)

About Passion and Plunder (Highland Heather Romancing a Scot Series, #5)

Would you sacrifice everything for the person you love, knowing you can never be together?

A desperate Scottish lady

Lydia Farnsworth—the sole surviving heir to the Laird of Tornbury Fortress—has lost nearly everyone she loves. Now her father lies on his deathbed. And as if this isn’t dire enough, he’s invited men from the surrounding area to a warrior’s contest—the winner to claim Lydia as his bride.

A Scotsman dueling with his past

Alasdair McTavish, son of Craiglocky Keep’s war chief, is a seasoned warrior in his own right. So when he’s sent to Tornbury to train the Farnsworth soldiers, he’s more than equal to the task.

When a dangerous adversary makes a move against Lydia, a dastardly scheme comes to light, and Alasdair realizes only he can protect Lydia.

Don’t miss the 5th installment in this sweeping historical Highland romance series—get your copy of Passion and Plunder for a romantic Scottish adventure you won’t want to put down.

 

Passion and Plunder releases May 24, but you can pre-order it now.

Amazon

Giveaway Link

Excerpt

Mustering her courage, she reluctantly raised her focus from the soft, worn leather encompassing his ridiculously broad chest.

“Dinna look so woebegone, lass.”

“What are we to do?” She stared up at him, refusing to permit her surge of tears to fall. “Da wouldn’t have forced either of my brothers to marry before assuming the lairdship. This stipulation reveals his lack of faith in me. In my gender.”

“Nae, he wouldn’t, but I think he believes he be protectin’ ye.” A throaty quality deepened his voice as he drew her into his arms. One large hand framing a shoulder and the other cupping her waist, he pressed her near.

God help her, his strong, comforting embrace felt splendid, like a long overdue homecoming. So secure and safe.

And a bit terrifying too.

She wanted to wrap her hands around his large frame, bury her head in his shoulder, and stay snuggled there for hours.

Perchance days.

Forever.

Desire blazed in his eyes as he tilted her chin upward at the same moment he dipped his lower. Her woman’s intuition recognized the passion bubbling beneath his composed demeanor.

About the Author

A bestselling, award-winning author, Collette Cameron pens Scottish and Regency historicals featuring rogues, rapscallions, rakes, and the intelligent, intrepid damsels who reform them.

Blessed with three spectacular children, fantastic fans, and a compulsive, over-active, and witty Muse who won’t stop whispering new romantic romps in her ear, she still lives in Oregon with dachshunds, though she dreams of living in Scotland part-time.

Admitting to a quirky sense of humor, Collette enjoys inspiring quotes, adores castles and anything cobalt blue, and is a self-confessed Cadbury chocoholic. You’ll always find dogs, birds, occasionally naughty humor, and a dash of inspiration in her sweet-to-spicy timeless romances.

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