H. Lewis-Foster and “Northern Relations”

Northern Relations:: A letter from Edward, Lord Hadnall, to his favourite aunt, Camelia.

Dearest Aunt Camelia,

I have been here in the north for almost a week now, and much to my surprise, I’ve had a highly agreeable time. You know I rarely venture outside of London, but I must admit the Yorkshire countryside is quite beautiful. Fawleigh is a most impressive house, too, while Arthur and his mother are the perfect hosts.

I go walking across the estate each day with Arthur. I have even met some of his tenants, whom Arthur treats almost like friends. We spend the evenings playing bridge with his relations and neighbours. As you are aware, my usual pastimes—and inclinations—are rather less conventional, but I haven’t had so much fun in a very long time. In fact, I have not missed my city acquaintances one bit. Perhaps it is the bracing northern air or Arthur’s refreshing company, but I find myself in no hurry to return to the bustle of London.

Do not fear, Aunt, I will not neglect my responsibilities—I have not forgotten my promise to find myself a wife. But I am not sure where I will find a lady with sufficient attractions to lure me away from Arthur and his home. I have never met a man quite like him. He is handsome and strong, but he is also the most kind and generous man I have ever known. Indeed, I look at Arthur sometimes and imagine that, in another time and place, I might marry someone like him and be truly happy. It is a ridiculous notion, I know, but I have these outlandish thoughts sometimes.

I must go now to change for the Jarrows’ hunt. I am not a great lover of hunting, but it would be impolite to refuse. I only hope I can reach the day’s end without falling from my horse!

Your ever-loving nephew

Edward

About Northern Relations

Edward, Lord Hadnall, leads a hedonistic life in Regency London, along with his friend and occasional lover, Charlie Brabinger. The only blot on Edward’s carefree horizon is the insistence of his female relations that he settle down and get married. He intends to ignore their pestering for as long as he can, and continue his decadent lifestyle of dances and debauchery. But then Edward meets Charlie’s cousin, Arthur Hathwaite, a kind and honourable country gentleman.

Edward accepts Arthur’s invitation to visit his Yorkshire home and is surprised to find life on the rural estate extremely agreeable. He enjoys Arthur’s company immensely and they become firm friends. But when Edward makes an unexpected discovery, he is left in a moral dilemma. Will Edward follow his usual indulgent urges or do the right thing for once in his life? Or might he be lucky enough to do both?

Available

Amber Quill • Amazon

Excerpt

Charlie grinned mischievously, as footsteps approached from the hall. “Now do be nice to Cousin Arthur. He’s not a bad sort, but he is so terribly northern. His hands are like shovels, and I hear he runs his own estate. Can you imagine it?”

Edward honestly couldn’t imagine running Ilsden, his family’s country home. He left the day-to-day business to an agent, who seemed to know what he was doing. Frankly, he could have been

embezzling half the family’s income, and Edward wouldn’t have had a clue, but the thought of leaving London for the torpor of Wiltshire was too appalling to contemplate.

Emsley was first to enter the room with his usual self-assured gait.

“Mr. Hathwaite, sir.”

When he appeared, Arthur was not the lumbering oaf Edward had envisaged. He was tall and handsome, with weather-warmed skin and the same thick black hair as Charlie.

“Arthur, how delightful to see you.” Charlie’s smile could have fooled almost anyone. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“It was a last minute arrangement. I hope you don’t mind me calling by unannounced.”

There was a faint northern lilt to Arthur’s gravely voice, and his clothes weren’t the latest city fashion, but Edward couldn’t help noticing how superbly his tailcoat clung to his muscular frame.

Charlie remained in his seat as he replied, “I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, Lord Hadnall.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lord Hadnall.”

Arthur stepped forward and offered his hand. It was large and firm as it grasped Edward’s fingers, but it was hardly shovel-like, and his soft skin certainly wasn’t that of a farmer.

“Call me Edward, please.”

Edward looked up at Arthur’s face. His eyes were the brown of freshly poured coffee and his smile was sincere if a little shy

“What brings you to London?”

“I had some business to take care of.” Arthur took a seat on a chair across the room. “Would you believe I’m to be married in September?”

“Are you really?” Charlie was suddenly interested. “And who’s the lucky lady?”

“Her name is Henrietta Burleigh. I don’t suppose you know her?”

“As it happens, I do. She’s the daughter of Admiral Burleigh, isn’t she?

“That’s right. She seems a lovely girl, from the few times we’ve met.”

“And extremely wealthy, too.”

“They’re not badly off.” Arthur blushed at Charlie’s intimation. “But I thought it was time I settled down. I’ll be thirty next month, same as you, Cousin Charles.”

Charlie winced at the mention of his age. “Well I have no intention of settling down. The Brabinger name will die out when I do.”

“I see.” Arthur lowered his eyes uncomfortably. “It’s every man’s choice to do as he pleases, but I always thought it was my duty to marry. I’m a bit old-fashioned, I suppose.”

“Not at all.” For some reason, Edward felt obliged to come to Arthur’s defence. “It is a noble sentiment, and if the lady in question is good-natured and pretty, then all the better.”

Arthur turned to Edward. “Are you married yourself?”

Edward chuckled. “Not yet, but I may be rather sooner than I’d hoped.”

About the Author

H. Lewis-Foster has worked with books, in one form or another, since leaving university. As a keen reader of gay fiction, she decided to try writing herself, and is now the proud author of several short stories and a debut novel Burning Ashes.

H. has lived in various parts of the UK and has recently moved to the north of England, where she’s enjoying city life, especially the theatres and cinemas. She tries not to watch too much television, but is a big fan of Downton Abbey, and while she’s writing, she loves listening to Test Match Special (where they spend far more time talking about cakes than cricket!)

You can find out more about H. and her books at:

http://hlewisfoster.wix.com/books

https://twitter.com/HLewisFoster

The Yule Log: #MistletoeHop

Dec20

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Yule Log

As a former French teacher, the term “Yule Log” tends to bring to mind the tasty Bûche de Noël, a sponge cake rolled with cream and decorated with chocolate icing and marzipan mushrooms. The Bûche de Noël originated in France and Belgium and has spread to the UK and other places as well.

The tradition of the Yule log is not an ancient custom in Britain, but is considered to have been imported from Flanders in Belgium (from an ancient Nordic pagan tradition). The idea was to find the largest log possible (usually oak) and to keep it burning throughout the entire Twelve Days of Christmas. A remnant of the log was kept in the house for the next year to bring prosperity and protection from evil spirits…and to use in lighting the next year’s Yule Log.

The Yule log would be cut down and dragged by horses or oxen as people walked along and sang merry songs. Often it would be decorated with greenery and sprinkled with grain or cider before being lit. The first attempt at lighting the log had to be successful in order to avoid bad luck during the coming year. And the person lighting it had to have clean hands; dirty hands would be disrespectful. While log burned, people would drink cider and tell ghost and other tales and watch the walls for shadows. A headless shadow foretold the death of the person casting the shadow in the next year. People could burn offerings to represent their personal faults and mistakes to wipe the slate clean and start the year afresh.

Originally, the log was an entire tree, one end of which would be inserted into the hearth and the rest jutting out into the room. Burning an entire tree is not practical today with central heating and all.

In Cornwall, barrelmakers (coopers) would donate old trees unsuitable for making barrels to people for Yule logs. In Devon and Somerset, people used very large bungles of ash twigs, due to the legend that it was very cold in the stable where Mary and Joseph were staying and the shepherds collected twigs for them.

By the Regency-era, most people did not have large enough hearths to burn entire trees, but they could burn a large log for at least twelve hours on Christmas day.

A random commenter on this post will win a Twelfth Night Tale Christmas charm bracelet.

Büche de Noël recipe

Martha Stewart recipe

About A Twelfth Night Tale

A wounded soldier and the girl next door find peace and love amidst a backdrop of rural Christmas traditions.

Without dowries and the opportunity to meet eligible gentlemen, the five Barlow sisters stand little chance of making advantageous marriages. But when the eldest attracts the attention of a wealthy viscount, suddenly it seems as though Fate is smiling upon them.

Lucy knows that she owes it to her younger sisters to encourage Lord Bexley’s attentions, since marriage to a peer will secure their futures as well as hers. The man of her dreams has always looked like Andrew Livingston, her best friend’s brother. But he’s always treated her like a child, and, in any case, is betrothed to another. Perhaps the time has come to put away childhood dreams and accept reality…and Lord Bexley.

Andrew has returned from the Peninsula with more emotional scars to deal with than just the lame arm. Surprisingly, it’s his sister’s friend “Little Lucy” who shows him the way out of his melancholy. He can’t help noticing that Lucy’s grown up into a lovely young woman, but with an eligible viscount courting her, he’ll need a little Christmas magic to win her for himself.

Available

Ellora’s Cave • Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Kobo • Sony • ARe

Susanna Ives and “Wicked Little Secrets”

Dec19

About Wicked Little Secrets

It’s Not Easy Being Good…

Vivacious Vivienne Taylor has finally won her family’s approval by getting engaged to the wealthy and upright John Vandergrift. But when threatened by a vicious blackmail scheme, it is to her childhood friend that Vivienne turns; the deliciously wicked Viscount Dashiell.

When Being Wicked is so Much More Exciting…

Lord Dashiell promised himself long ago that his friendship with Vivienne would be the one relationship with a woman that he wouldn’t ruin. He agrees to help her just to keep the little hothead safe, but soon finds that Vivienne has grown up to be very, very dangerous to all of Dash’s best intentions.

Available

Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Sourcebooks

SUSANA SAYS: Talk about ROFL—literally could NOT stop giggling! 5/5 stars

Poor Vivienne! She can never be good enough for anyone in her family. Until she manages to hook a matrimonial fish that puts smiles on their faces. John Vandergrift, a respectable young man from a prominent family, can help lift her family out of the financial mess that threatens them. Suddenly, she’s being fêted and praised by everyone from her staid Aunt Gertrude and her religious zealot friends to her relieved—and amazed—parents. Frankly, this is like a whole different world for Vivienne, who is used to being lectured and called the bad seed of the family. And she loves it! She’ll do anything to become the worthy lady her new fiancé deserves.

Lord Dashiell, the wicked rakehell next door who used to think of her as a little sister, is the only one who doesn’t approve of Vivienne’s betrothal. For one thing, he doesn’t like to think of Vivienne belonging to anyone but him—except that he’s far too wicked to be a good husband, of course—and he thinks the idea of Vivi trying to fit into a pattern card of respectability is ridiculous when obviously she is perfect the way she is.

No matter how she tries, Vivienne always seems to fail at being perfect. After she hears her “respectable” fiancé discussing his trollop in public, she begins to wonder why she has to be beyond reproach when he can boast openly of his own peccadilloes. And yet…there’s something addictive about being the savior of her family, the girl most admired in the Wesleyan church. How can she give that up?

After so many years of reading historical romances, there are times when one starts to sound the same as all the others and my interest starts to flag. So when I find one that takes hold of my imagination and won’t let go, I’m delirious with joy. Wicked Little Secrets is one of those, I’m happy to say.

There are plenty of hints about the resolution of the story, so that was no surprise. But what kept my attention was the hilarity. Lord Dashiell’s scandalously lovable grandfather. Garth the dog. The bird that says “I love you.” The culminating scene is absolutely hysterical and eliminates any doubts that Lord Dashiell is a worthy hero.

If you are having trouble getting through your current book, put it aside and try this one. You won’t regret it!

About the Author

Susanna Ives grew up in the rural South, where she spent most of her youth at the local theater, acting in productions, working in the lighting booth, and building sets. Eventually she left her small town for the city lights of Atlanta, where she attended college and worked in corporations as a multimedia developer. These days she chases after her two curious, energetic children, designs web pages, and writes.

Contacts

Website • Facebook • Twitter

Elizabeth Bailey and “Adoring Isadora”

Dec16

Don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs Worthington.

When Noel Coward wrote that song, the profession of acting had acquired a certain cachet of glamour. Actresses, however, were still not respectable, and the stage-door Johnnies could still hope for the ultimate reward if they wined and dined their favourites.

Society had become much more integrated by then, but the middle classes were offended by theatrical morals and the bohemian lifestyle. This attitude did not much affect the male of the species, of course, although the well-born young man about town would encounter strong opposition if he attempted to take to the stage. An actor, however, might be accepted into exclusive circles, where his female counterpart would be firmly kept out.

Even when I trod the boards in the late sixties and seventies, there was a faint whiff of disapproval and suspicion. I remember my grandmother, on hearing I was an actress, saying to me, “But wouldn’t you rather be a secretary?” to which the short answer was “No!” What she meant was that I really ought to be doing something rather more respectable.

As the 19th century wore on, some actresses made the successful jump from stage to respectability, burying the past as “Lady” Someone or Other, but these were few and far between.

However, in the 18th century, my historical period, any female who set foot on the boards could kiss goodbye to any hope of respectability. All actresses then either got married or assumed married names, because that gave them a slight advantage and room for doubt. Sarah Siddons was probably one of the few actresses who were genuinely respectable and did not fall victim to “vice”.

To be honest, Society was not really to be blamed. The acting lifestyle provided endless opportunities for dalliance, secret assignations, intimate moments and the opportunity to enrich oneself at the expense of a generous protector. The temptation to stray was endemic, as the famous Perdita Robinson bore witness with her affair with the Prince of Wales, later Prince Regent.

My heroine from Adoring Isadora knows full well what it would mean to plunge into a theatrical career, but this does not prevent her from hankering after the professional stage and making secret plans to take up a theatrical career. Isadora is hopelessly naïve, however, for she has no real idea of what such a life would mean, weaving dreams of success as a tragedienne taking the Ton by storm.

When the new head of the family, Viscount Roborough, appears, she is brought swiftly down to earth. Not that Isadora gives up easily. But questions concerning the probable earnings of an actress daunt her; nor can she ignore the potential for scandal that would come back on the family should she carry out her design.

I have to wonder if the taint of wickedness has an appeal in terms of glamour. Despite all these disadvantages, ever since women were at last allowed to appear in the theatre, replacing the young boys who had played female roles in Shakespeare’s time, the lure of the stage has always drawn the naïve, the reckless, the rebellious and the ambitious, as well as the genuinely talented.

About Adoring Isadora

Isadora’s secret plan to save her family is frustrated by the arrival of the Errant Heir, with plans of his own. As Isadora prepares to thwart him, Lord Roborough’s friendliness and warmth undermines her determination—until she discovers he is a hardened gamester.

As Roborough struggles to recover a wasted inheritance and counter Isadora’s attempts at sabotage, he is both intrigued and infuriated by her mercurial temperament. Bitterly hurt by her lack of trust, he despairs of a happy outcome.

Will the truth serve to effect a reconciliation? Or will Isadora’s outrageous plot signal the end of all hope?

Available

Amazon

About the Author

Elizabeth Bailey grew up in Africa with unconventional parents, where she loved reading and drama. On returning to England, she developed her career in acting, theatre directing and finally writing. Elizabeth has 18 novels published by Harlequin Mills & Boon and recently began a Georgian historical crime series of which the first two books were published by Berkley (Penguin US). But since she still loves romance, Elizabeth is delighted with the opportunity to publish her work independently.

Contacts

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A Palm Tree Sort of Christmas: MFRW’s Home For the Holidays Hop

Dec13

Click above to return to the hop!

The phrase “Home For the Holidays” conjures up an image of the family gathered around the fireplace at Grandma’s house eating turkey with all the trimmings, including Grandma’s date-filled cookies and orange bread. We children were all wound up about the treasures Santa had left us under the tree, and being spoiled by Grandma was the icing on the cake.

Grandma’s gone now, and the house is now occupied by my parents, but only in the summer months. Mom and Dad are snowbirds now, enjoying the warmer temperatures and decorated palm trees of central Florida. The icy cold of the north has begun to bother me as well, so I have now joined them in this cozy little retirement community. The Christmas lights are beautiful at night, and we still enjoy a hearty Christmas feast at the clubhouse, but it’s not quite the same.

I miss Grandma and the excitement of being with the extended family, but I don’t miss the ice and dirty slush and the cold drafts in my office in Ohio. I’ll be happy to return in the spring to enjoy the warmer weather, but “Home For the Holidays” for me involves decorated palm trees.

What does it mean for you?

About A Twelfth Night Tale

A wounded soldier and the girl next door find peace and love amidst a backdrop of rural Christmas traditions.

Available

Ellora’s Cave • Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Kobo • Sony • ARe

Susana is going all out to celebrate the release of A Twelfth Night Tale!

Besides the Grand Prize—a Giant Treasure Box—she is giving away a Twelfth Night Tale Christmas charm bracelet (silver-plated) for one random commenter on each of the twelve stops of the tour. Click here for the Rafflecopter for the Giant Treasure Box!

A Twelfth Night Tale Giant Treasure Box*

lovely gift box
A Twelfth Night Tale Christmas charm bracelet (silver-plated)
Father Christmas figurine
Three Wise Men figurine
Thomas Kinkade photo collage
Treasuring Theresa mug
Treasuring Theresa necklace
Treasuring Theresa keychain
two Christmas ornaments from Scotland (Mary Queen of Scots and fleur-de-lys)
two decks of Ellora’s Cave playing cards
two perfumed soaps from Scotland
fizzing bath salts from Scotland
Celtic pen from Scotland
“jeweled” soap
nail clipper keychain from London
stuffed toy bear

*In lieu of the treasure box, a winner from outside the U.S. will receive a gift card from the book retailer of their choice.

Kris Tualla and her Discreet Gentlemen

Dec12

Ever find a hero that won’t let go of YOU?

A couple of years ago, I read an article in the Romance Writer Report which stated that women are attracted to a man who “looks at them like they are the only thing in the room.” I found that idea intriguing. So I started wondering, what sort of man would have that kind of intensity?

A deaf man.

So I dove in and decided to write a deaf hero. Because I write historicals and Norsemen, I set him in the 1700s in Christiania (now Oslo) Norway. Next, I needed to figure out what a deaf man could do to support himself, after being passed over as heir because of his hearing loss. He told me he solves crimes because (in his gestures): When people find out I’m deaf, they forget I’m in the room. Plus, he reads lips.

After dragging Brander Hansen through all kinds of emotional torture ~ and having him track a serial killer along southern Norway’s coastline ~ he gets his “Happily Ever After” with the heroine. I typed The End, and thought I was done.

He didn’t agree.

After a few months, Brander nudged me and asked if I was really certain I wanted to let go of him.

I wasn’t.

With a deep breath and a squaring of shoulders, I turned back to look at Brander’s life with his new wife, Regin Kildahl. Turns out, the spunky Baroness wasn’t ready to sit back and enjoy a quiet life either. Enter Desert Breeze Publishing and contracts for FIVE books, based on the strength of the first, “A Discreet Gentleman of Discovery.”

Through 2012 and 2013, we also released “A Discreet Gentleman of Matrimony” (a murder behind locked doors), “A Discreet Gentleman of Consequence” (18th-century version of a Ponzi scheme), and “A Discreet Gentleman of Intrigue” (spy playing all sides).

The fifth book released today through Desert Breeze: “A Discreet Gentleman of Mystery” (a dead body inside a wall of Regin’s ancestral home).

http://www.desertbreezepublishing.com/brands/Kris-Tualla.html

Writing a deaf hero in the 1700s was a challenge, to be honest. Aside from the lack of a formal sign language, the common perception of the deaf was that they were stupid. Of course, Brander turns that to his advantage.

Another challenge was figuring out a way to let the reader know HOW the dialog was being delivered. I decided on:

“Spoken words are in quotation marks.”

Written words are in italics.

And when Brander gestures: His sentences look like dialog, but without quote marks.

Will this book be the last about Brander and Regin? I’m not certain. I have a Renaissance knight stubbornly demanding his turn next, and he’s a trilogy. While Desert Breeze is strongly hinting that they would like more, I’ll have to wait and listen to Brander.

And for a mute-by-choice deaf man, he does have a very loud voice.

About the Author

Kris Tualla, a dynamic award-winning author of historical romances, writes with a fast-paced and succinct style. Her plots are full of twists, passion, and very satisfying outcomes! Kris started with nothing but a nugget of a character in mind, and has created a dynasty – The Hansen Series. Norway is the new Scotland!

Kris is an active member of Romance Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Historical Novel Society. She is an enthusiastic speaker and teacher, and created Arizona Dreamin’ ~ Arizona’s first romance-reader event!

Maggi Andersen and “Taming a Gentleman Spy”

Dec9

Maggi will award a $50 Amazon GC plus an e-book copy of A Baron in Her Bed – The Spies of Mayfair, Book #1 to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning.

About Taming a Gentleman Spy

John Haldane, Earl of Strathairn, is on an urgent mission to find the killer of his fellow spy. After visiting the young widow of one of his agents, Strathairn strengthens his resolve. A spy should never marry, and most certainly not to Lady Sibella Winborne, with her romantic ideas of love and marriage. Unable to give Sibella up entirely, he has kept her close as a friend. Then, weak fool that he is, he kissed her.

Lady Sibella Winborne has refused several offers of marriage since she first set eyes on the handsome Earl of Strathairn. Sibella’s many siblings always rush to her aid to discourage an ardent suitor, but not this time. Her elder brother, Chaloner, Marquess of Brandreth, has approved Lord Coombe’s suit. Sibella yearns to set up her own household. She is known to be the sensible member of the family, but she doesn’t feel at all sensible about Lord Strathairn. If only she could forget that kiss.

Available

Amazon • Knox Robinson Publishing Ltd. • Barnes & Noble

Excerpt

Sibella’s brother Edward stood at her shoulder. “I’ve come to claim you for the next dance, before any of your admirers beat me to it.”

“I shouldn’t worry, many are losing interest,” she said crisply, rising from her chair.

He eyed her as they entered the dance floor. “Losing hope, more like.”

As they moved through the steps of the quadrille, he dropped quiet remarks in her ear.

“Give up on Strathairn, Sib.”

“I don’t believe, I—” They parted, and by the time the steps brought them back together, she’d given up protesting. Edward had inherited their mother’s astute nature.

“It’s not that I don’t like him. I do very much. But he’s not for you.”

“You needn’t worry. He doesn’t wish to marry.”

Her brother raised a black eyebrow. “Oh, I believe you could sway him toward marriage, if you set your mind to it. That’s not the reason.”

“Then what is the reason?”

“Chaloner hears things in the House of Lords. I can’t repeat them.”

“So he tells you but not me.”

Edward shrugged with a smile and moved away.

“Why does such mystery surround the Earl of Strathairn?” she hissed at him when she next got a chance.

He shook his head. She’d learn no more.

About the Author

Maggi Andersen fell in love with the Georgian and Regency worlds after reading the books of Georgette Heyer. Victoria Holt’s Gothic Victorian novels were also great favorites.

She has raised three children and gained a BA and an MA in Creative Writing. After husband David retired from the law, they moved to the beautiful Southern Highlands of Australia.

Maggi’s free time is spent enjoying her garden and the local wildlife, reading, movies and the theatre. She keeps fit swimming and visiting the gym.

Maggi is a multi-published author, and writes mysteries and young adult novels as well as her Georgian, Regency and Victorian romances.

Contacts

Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook

Susana Interviews Mrs. Barlow, the Mother of the Heroine of “A Twelfth Night Tale”

Dec5

Susana is going all out to celebrate the release of A Twelfth Night Tale!

Besides the Grand Prize—a Giant Treasure Box—she is giving away a Twelfth Night Tale Christmas charm bracelet (silver-plated) for one random commenter on each of the twelve stops of the tour.

Click here for the Rafflecopter for the Giant Treasure Box!

A Twelfth Night Tale Giant Treasure Box*

lovely gift box
A Twelfth Night Tale Christmas charm bracelet (silver-plated)
Father Christmas figurine
Three Wise Men figurine
Thomas Kinkade photo collage
Treasuring Theresa mug
Treasuring Theresa necklace
Treasuring Theresa keychain
two Christmas ornaments from Scotland (Mary Queen of Scots and fleur-de-lys)
two decks of Ellora’s Cave playing cards
two perfumed soaps from Scotland
fizzing bath salts from Scotland
Celtic pen from Scotland
“jeweled” soap
nail clipper keychain from London
stuffed toy bear

*In lieu of the treasure box, a winner from outside the U.S. will receive a gift card from the book retailer of their choice.

My time-traveling Regency lady, Lady Pendleton, came down with a stomach ailment and was unable to travel to Oxfordshire to complete the series of interviews she agreed to before returning to the 21^st century. (Prior to that, however, she did manage to interview Jane Livingston, the hero’s sister, while they were both enjoying the Little Season in London.) And she somehow contrived to send Mrs. Barlow, Lucy’s mother, to me at my winter home in Florida for a brief interview. Someday I’m going to get her to tell me how she does these things. (And get her to take her back to Regency England with her—wouldn’t that be a historical researcher’s dream?)

Susana: Welcome to Florida, Mrs. Barlow. I hope you enjoy your stay. May I offer you some refreshments?

Mrs. Barlow: [looking around her in wonder] No thank you, Miss Ellis. My stomach is still a bit queasy from the journey.

Susana: Oh dear, I hope you are not coming down with the same ailment that has sidelined my friend Lady Pendleton.

Mrs. Barlow: Lady Pendleton? Oh yes, the…uh…woman who sent me here. She’s a bit…eccentric, is she not?

Susana: [hiding a smile] Indeed she is, Mrs. Barlow. But kindhearted and quite harmless, really.

Mrs. Barlow: [looking relieved] I’m glad to hear it, Miss Ellis. This is all quite a shock, you know. She said you wished to inquire about my daughter Lucy?

Susana: Er, yes. It’s research for a story I’m writing. I understand you have five daughters?

Mrs. Barlow: [Sighing] Indeed I do. Five daughters to marry off and no sons.

Susana: And Lucy is the eldest?

Mrs. Barlow: Yes, she is already eight and ten years of age and of an age to make her bow to Society, but unfortunately, her father and I have not the means to stake her. [Shaking her head] A house in London with servants is enormously expensive. We cannot even stand the cost of providing her with a suitable wardrobe. [Sighing] It is very sad, really. Lucy is a delightful girl who would be a splendid wife, but there are few eligible gentlemen here in Charlbury.

Susana: I understand the young man next door recently returned from service in the Peninsula. Livingston, I believe. Andrew Livingston. Could he be a prospect, do you think?

Mrs. Barlow: [Sighing deeply] No, unfortunately he’s betrothed to some London chit. Since before he took up his colors two years ago. I suppose they’ll be marrying posthoste now that he’s returned. A shame really, because Lucy has always had a tendre for him. The Livingstons are an unexceptionable family and quite well-to-heel, and it would be a great thing if Lucy were to be settled so near—but no, he’s never seen Lucy as anything but a child, and besides, he’s spoken for.

Susana: What a conundrum! Are there no other ways for young ladies to meet eligible gentlemen in the country?

Mrs. Barlow: Occasionally, someone’s cousin or nephew comes to town for a visit, but there are few eligibles in that lot. There are assemblies, of course. Oh, that reminds me. [Perking up] There was a quite agreeable viscount at the last assembly who seemed quite taken with Lucy. He danced twice with her. Perhaps he will come to call soon. Oh my, that would be a marvelous thing for my girls! To have their sister a viscountess who can sponsor them in London when the time comes! I must urge Lucy to encourage him!

Susana: Was she equally taken with him, then?

Mrs. Barlow: [shrugging] These things resolve themselves over time. I don’t believe she was repulsed by him. He looked well enough, for an older gentleman, and his manners were unexceptionable. It is said that he was a considerate husband to his late wife, and seems to be devoted to his three daughters.

Susana: Oh, he’s a widower. No doubt looking for a mother for his daughters.

Mrs. Barlow: And an heir, of course. He still needs a son to inherit, and Lucy is young enough to manage that.

Susana: [Doubtfully] I suppose so, and yet…one could wish a love match for her.

Mrs. Barlow: [Stiffening] Lucy is a practical girl, and not at all the sort to waste time dreaming of the impossible. She will make a wonderful wife and mother and take great pleasure in using her elevated circumstances to assist her sisters.

Susana: I’m sure she will, Mrs. Barlow. I did not mean to imply otherwise. Please forgive me if I offended you.

Mrs. Barlow: [Relaxing] Of course. I’m afraid this is a topic about which Mr. Barlow and I frequently cross swords. He says Lucy is still young and will find her own way. But he’s never been the most practical man, and I suspect he’d be just as glad to have all of them at home with us forever.

Susana: An indulgent father then. [Glances at the clock]. Oh dear, it’s almost time for our visit to end. I wonder if you’d like to take a walk around the park, Mrs. Barlow. It’s such a lovely day, and you might enjoy the flora and fauna here in central Florida. Perhaps we’ll even see an alligator in the lake.

Mrs. Barlow: An alligator! Goodness!

Susana: From a distance, of course. But there are palm trees and snake birds, and plenty of sun to warm you before you go back to chilly England

Mrs. Barlow: [shivering] Chilly indeed! The weather has been exceptionally cold this year. By all means, let us walk a bit in the sunshine.

And so ends the interview. It may interest you to know that the winter of 1813-1814, when A Twelfth Night Tale takes place, was one of the coldest on record, so much so that in February the Thames froze and a frost fair was held for four days, during which an elephant was led across the river under Blackfriars Bridge.

About A Twelfth Night Tale

A wounded soldier and the girl next door find peace and love amidst a backdrop of rural Christmas traditions.

Available

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Excerpt

Jane was chatty as usual, prattling on about the wedding, her latest letter from Theodore and the coming events for the Christmas holidays.

“We are expecting you all at our house for Christmas dinner as usual,” Lucy broke in. “Mama has a new recipe for plum pudding and she’s anxious to see what you think of it.”

The Livingstons had been guests of the Barlows for every Christmas dinner since Mrs. Livingston’s death. Jane and Andrew’s mother had been a wonderful hostess and a great advocate for the Yuletide traditions, and after she had passed away,

Mrs. Barlow had begun the practice of sharing the family Christmas with their good friends and neighbors. There was never a dull moment in a household with five such lively daughters as the Barlow girls, and the Livingstons were not allowed the luxury of brooding over the past during a time of year meant to be joyful.

“Yes indeed,” piped up Mr. Livingston. “Your mother sets a fine table and it’s always a pleasure to be among so many pretty young lasses, is it not, Andrew?”

“Most assuredly,” said Andrew, with an appreciative smile at Lucy. “If Miss Barlow here is any indication, the Barlow girls must be growing up quite agreeably.”

Lucy flushed. “You must come to the church tomorrow night for the Christmas Eve pageant,” she put forward. “My sisters and I are all in the play, and Jane will need an escort.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows. “You are all five in the play? I don’t recall so many females involved in the nativity.”

Lucy laughed. “I’m the director,” she said. “Laura plays the part of Mary, Lydia is one of the wise men, Louisa is a shepherd, and Lila is a camel.” She grinned. “The script originally called for domestic animals, but Lila being Lila, refused to settle for anything so mundane.”

“Who, then, is the Christ Child?” inquired Andrew after the laughter had subsided.

“Louisa’s cat, Beau,” Lucy told him. “We meant to use the Tadsens’ baby in the beginning, but he wouldn’t stay still and kept crying, so we tried several dogs and cats for the part, and Beau was the most cooperative.”

More smiles circled the table, and Andrew agreed that he would be pleased to escort Jane to the pageant.

“How could I possibly refuse? This production is certain to be the highlight of the county. You should accompany us, Papa,” he said, turning to his father.

“Perhaps I shall,” said Mr. Livingston.

Jane and Lucy excused themselves, leaving the two gentlemen to their port.

“Oh Lucy!” Jane said when they reached the drawing room. “I’ve had the most marvelous idea! Well, it was your doing, really.”

“Me? What did I do?” Lucy was mystified.

“You invited Andrew to the pageant! Brilliant thinking! He’s been holed up in his bedchamber like a grumpy bear for weeks now, even before Cecilia jilted him. We need to get him out of the house. Encourage him to meet other people and stop feeling sorry for himself.”

She gave Lucy a speculative look. “And now that I think about it, you would be the best person to do it. Cheer him up, I mean. I haven’t seen Andrew in such a lively frame of mind since…well, before he went off to war.”

Lucy was horrified…and hopeful. “You want me to be in charge of cheering up Andrew? Why not you? You are his sister.”

“I’ve tried everything I know, and it’s no use. You are with him for an hour and he’s laughed twice!” She grasped Lucy’s shoulder. “Look, I’m not asking you to marry Andrew or anything like that. All you have to do is come for visits, bring your sisters, persuade him to get out of the house, things like that. You can do that, can’t you? For my sake?”

“Well…” said Lucy doubtfully.

“You do like Andrew, don’t you? Want him to regain his spirits?”

“Of course.” That was the problem. She liked him far too much. It wouldn’t do to get her hopes up and then have them dashed to pieces.

“Then it’s settled.”

And in spite of everything, Lucy was glad that it was.

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B.J. Scott and “Highland Homecoming”

Dec2

B.J. will be awarding a $50 Amazon gift card, Scottish shortbread cookies, can cooler and mouse pad (US/CANADA ONLY) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning.

Since this is a historical romance, I was given the option to discuss something interesting about Scottish history. One of things I found interesting was the reason the thistle is considered the emblem of Scotland over the sweet smelling heather.

The prickly, green leafed weed, with the purple floral crown is seen on almost anything associated with Scotland. The legend is that in 1263, during the reign of King Alexander III, Vikings, led by their king Haakon IV landed on the shore of Scotland. Had they come to invade Scotland, were they raiding villages along the coast or had they been forced ashore by a storm? The answer may never be known, but it castles on the coast were on guard for an attack, because it had been attempted in the past. When the Vikings came ashore, the cries of the barefooted warriors, as they stepped on the thistles served as a warning, allowing the Scots to prepare for the invasion and thwart the attempt. The first use of the thistle as an emblem was recorded in 1470 when it appeared on a silver coin issued by King James III.

The thistle in ancient times was thought to be a symbol of nobility of character and birth. To do harm to the thistle would result in punishment. Because of this belief when the ancient chivalric, noble Order of the Thistle was founded by James II, the thistle was chosen as the symbol in 1687. Their motto “Nemo me impune lacessit” (no one harms me without punishment.) In Scots “Wha daurs meddle wi me”

The order still exists today, the motto used on many things associated with Scotland.

About Highland Homecoming

The last thing Alasdair Fraser expects to find on an isolated beach in Northern Scotland is a beautiful, unconscious lass. Unable to turn his back on someone in need, he delays his journey and tends to her injuries–an act that has him questioning his destiny and his plans to rejoin the fight for Scotland’s independence.

Will he drop the shield that guards his heart or will the secrets she fails to reveal and his own stubbornness keep them apart forever?

Available

Amazon

Soul Mate Publishing

Excerpt

Perched on a stool by the fire, he watched her sleep, wondering how he was going to ever let her go. She was by far the loveliest woman he had ever seen, and she did not seem to be put off by his size, awkwardness, or lack of manners. But duty dictated that they part ways.

After tossing a log on the fire, he spread a pelt on the floor in front of the hearth, then lowered himself to the ground. He pulled the tunic over his head and tossed it on the stool, then did the same with his trews and boots, before settling beneath a length of plaid

The last thing he wanted to do was lie on the floor and go to sleep. If truth be known, he wanted to slip beneath the covers, take Lauren in his arms, and make her his own. But that would not be right or proper. They were not betrothed and despite what people might think of him, he was a man of honor.

The women he’d bedded in the past had all been of questionable repute and none had been untried maidens. If Lauren was not already married or spoken for, he held enough respect for her that he would wait until their wedding night. But then again, if she did not get her memory back, he might never know for certain.

He slammed his fist on the floor. What the hell was he thinking? He was never going to take a bride. Especially one with no past. He was a warrior. There was no future for them, something he best not forget. He tucked the plaid around his shoulders and dozed off.

An ear-piercing scream disturbed his slumber and Alasdair jolted up with a start. Wasting no time, he climbed to his feet and raced to the pallet.

About the Author

With a passion for historical romance, history in general, and anything Celtic, B.J. always has an exciting work in progress. Each story offers a blend of romance, adventure, suspense, and, where appropriate, a dab of comic relief. Carefully researched historical facts are woven into each manuscript, providing a backdrop from which steamy romance, gripping plots, and vivid characters—dashing alpha heroes and resourceful, beguiling heroines you can’t help but admire—spring to life. A member of RWA, World Romance Writers, Celtic Hearts Romance Writers, and Savvy Authors, B.J. also writes contemporary, paranormal, time travel, and romantic suspense.

C.S. Lewis first captivated B. J.’s imagination in the fourth grade, and her desire to write sprang from there. Following a career in nursing and child and youth work, B.J. married her knight-in-shining-armor, and he whisked her away to his castle by the sea. In reality, they share their century-old home in a small Canadian town on the shore of Lake Erie with three dogs and a cat. When she is not working at her childcare job, on her small business, or writing, you will find her reading, camping, or antique hunting.

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Cotillion Christmas Traditions: Kate Dolan and “Sense of the Season”

Nov28

Christmas Traditions is the theme of this year’s Ellora’s Cave Blush Cotillion Christmas series. Eight stories focusing on Christmas traditions during the Regency will be released digitally, and then in print version as two anthologies.

The eight stories in the series are:

10/10/13: Twelve Days of Christmas, Barbara Miller

10/17/13: A Christmas Caroline, Christa Paige and Vivien Jackson

10/24/13: Festive Persuasion, Charlene Roberts

10/31/13: Lydia’s Christmas Charade, Saralee Etter

11/7/13: Snug in a Snowstorm, Cynthia Moore

11/14/13: Helena’s Christmas Beau, Aileen Fish

11/21/13: A Twelfth Night Tale, Susana Ellis

11/28/13: Sense of the Season, Kate Dolan

The inspiration for this story came from searching for a place to stay in England for the first night of our summer trip. Looking for someplace not far from Dover, I found a B&B called “Centuries” in the town of Hythe, right on the coast. It’s situated in an old ragstone building that served as an almshouse from the 13th Century up until the 20th Century. The pictures on the website looked so cool that knew I just had to stay there. Fortunately the rates were quite reasonable, they had vacancy (since this was several months in advance) and the owners love history as much (or more) than I do. Even though I hadn’t set foot in the place yet, I knew I wanted to use the building as the setting for a story.

It didn’t fit my original idea for a “Christmas Traditions” story, so I picked a different tradition—giving alms to the poor. Of course, then I had to write the story and submit it before I actually had the pleasure of staying at “Centuries,” but I knew I would have the chance to make some revisions before publication to add details about the place. I also used another historic home about ten miles away, Godinton House, and I incorporated as characters some members of the family who lived there at the time the story was set. And then during revisions, I decided I needed another site in the northern part of the county and was able to use another really cool house (with it’s own moat and clock tower) Igtham Mote.

Before this trip, it had been over 20 years since I’d been to England, and it might be another 20 before I get to go again, so I was trying to soak up every detail and visit as many historic houses as I could to use in future tales. I can’t tell you how many times I made my husband stop the car so I could take a picture of something that caught my eye. Eventually I just started taking pictures through the windshield. They’re not exactly frame-worthy, but they will help me remember potentially useful details.

I would love to set another story in Hythe at an earlier period when the town was in its heyday as a medieval port. Many pilgrims from the Continent landed at Hythe on their way to Canterbury Cathedral. Maybe someday I’ll write my version of Canterbury Tales. Who knows?

To learn more about “Centuries” including the archaeology work done on the site, visit http://www.hythekentarchaeology.com/.

About Sense of the Season

There are many people William Fletcher would prefer to never again encounter in life, but if forced to rank them, he just might put Matilda Blakethorn at the top of the list. She humiliated him at the age of nine, and truth be told, scared the wits out of him for years after.

So now, waking up after a night of heavy drinking to find her looming over him is a bit of an unpleasant surprise. Especially since he has no place else to go.

Matty Blakethorn doesn’t recognize the bedraggled stranger sleeping on the floor of the St. Bartholomew’s Almshouse. But when he unwittingly ends up staying to help with repairs, the old acquaintance is renewed. And while neither Matty or William is anxious to admit the troubles that have driven them to such a humble place, Christmas is a time of sharing and giving and reconciliation. When William finally reveals his greatest failing, Matty must decide whether she can again face the demon that already destroyed her life once before.

Available

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About the Author

Kate Dolan was a terrible lawyer, so her decision to turn her back on the corporate world was a great relief to everyone, especially those in the corporate world. Since leaving the rat race, she has worked as a newspaper columnist, preschool teacher, bookkeeper and jump rope coach. A self-proclaimed “history nut,” she volunteers as a living history interpreter at historical sites near her home outside Baltimore and loves to share facts about the past, especially the gross ones. When she grows up, she hopes to become a professional roller coaster rider with her daughter. She writes historical fiction and romance under her own name and contemporary Christian mysteries and children’s books under the name K.D. Hays. Connect with her on Facebook or at www.katedolan.com.