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Wareeze Woodson and “Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman”

Wareeze will be awarding one eBook to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour, and one $50 GC to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click on the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning.

Dearest Lady Bromsworth,

Because of my deepest concern for the Laningham family, I write to ask you for the truth of the dreadful incident involving Lady Laurel Laningham. The late Lord Laningham served in the Peninsula you understand. How sad he succumbed to his wounds leaving a young wife and son behind. His grieving twin sister nearly went into a decline, or so I heard. All due to that little Corsican upstart, Bonaparte, thinking to fight all of England and our brave soldiers dying by his order.

I don’t hold with gossip as you know, but I seek the truth to still the old tabbies’ tongues about the matter. Listening to rumors is a vulgar habit, and I try to always gather the facts of a situation instead. The facts, as I understand them, are incredible, scarcely believable, thus my inquiry.

My butler informed me that dear Lady Laurel Laningham survived when a carriage over turned with her and her little son inside. She was on her way to Sussex to visit her aunt, or so it was supposed. Tis a great shame what with her being so recently bereaved and so lovely. She is not your average silly, pea-goose, either to undertake such a trip without cause. I asked myself if such could be true, and what with the condition of the roads along with the less than trust-worthy coachmen handling the ribbons, I concluded the account could be accurate.

Alarmed, I sat down at once with pen and paper to hand. He told a tale of a stranger riding off with the young Lord Laningham leaving the widow stranded in an over-turned coach. The tale becomes even more incredible at that point. You can imagine my horror and concern.

The abductor is rumored to be Lord Gladrey himself, the boy’s own guardian. That cannot be possible. I know Lord Gladrey. He is such a fine gentleman, gracious and always mindful of his family, such a dear, kind gentleman. If he did take charge of his ward, I’m certain he had a perfectly sound reason for serving Lady Laningham such a turn. It is quite natural for his cousin to appoint Lord Gladrey as guardian to his son. He and the twins are rumored to have been very close.

Please enlighten me of the facts of the situation so I’ll be able to ward off any unwelcome comments from the Ton. I dare say, you are aware of how vicious some of their tongues can become. I am more than willing to promote the proper happenings for dear Lady Laningham’s sake. I anxiously await word from you, a dear friend and neighbor of the family.

Truly Yours,

Lady Pickering

Reporter: Lord Adron Gladrey, I work for the Tribute. My editor is interested in the happenings involving an overturned coach. We understand you rode by and took charge of your ward, Lord Laningham. Why at such at time did you ride away with him before you?

Lord Adron Gladrey: I felt it necessary to protect my ward. Due to a misunderstanding, I thought he was being taken to France. The war- torn country is hardly a safe environment for my ward. I understood, his mother was careless and she wouldn’t understand the danger to my ward.

Reporter: Why didn’t you talk to her?

Lord Adron Gladrey: She left Landings as I arrived back in England. There was no time. I felt the need to rescue my ward before something dreadful happened to him. The entire incident was merely a misunderstanding. I would appreciate it if you people would let the subject alone.

About Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman

Recently widowed Lady Laurel Laningham flees Landings to escape her untenable position. Alone now and at the mercy of her sister-in-law, she decides to nestle under her aunt’s wings for a spell. To add to her burdens, her young son’s new guardian, Lord Adron Gladrey, has announced his intentions to take complete charge of his ward. The killer is stalking her and a devious jewel thief is stealing the family jewels. Can she convince her son’s guardian she is not a dangerous lunatic and is perfectly capable of raising her son or will he always consider her untrustworthy as a mother to his ward? Will his stubborn blindness send her straight into the path of the murderer, or will he relent in time to save her from following her husband into the grave?

Available

Amazon

Excerpt

His voice floated down to her. “Are you or the child injured?”

“I think several scrapes and bruises at most.” Laurel trembled and brushed her bonnet out of her face. She heard his quick intake of breath.

“You’re positive? You must have taken quite a tumble when the coach overturned. Possibly you’re more injured than you know.”

“Only a little shaken.” She took a deep, calming breath then continued with more force. “I’m certain we’re both fine.”

He hesitated and exhaled deeply. “A damsel in distress then. Do you perhaps have a name?”

Authority rang in his voice. She clutched Jamie a little tighter and offered him a tremulous smile. “Laurel Jane Laningham. Thank you for coming to our rescue.” She shaded her eyes with one hand, waiting for him to return the introduction.

“Let’s get you out of there. Hand me the boy first.”

He reached down into the overturned coach and Laurel lifted Jamie above her head into the waiting arms of the stranger. Her rescuer leapt to the ground with her son. A chill of foreboding curled around her. He’d said the boy. An unknown man shouldn’t know the child was a male. With every one of her senses alert, she listened intently for the stranger to return. Saddle leather squeaked and the thunder of hooves struck the ground in retreat.

Laurel screamed, “Bring my son back. I’ll see you hanged for this, you blackguard. Come back here. Help. Driver, help me.”

About the Author

I am a native Texan and still live in the Houston area. I married by high school sweetheart, and after raising 4 children, they blessed up with 8 grandchildren. AND after all these years, we still love each other. True romance is happy ever after.

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Shehanne Moore and “Loving Lady Lazuli”

Jan27

Shehanne will be awarding a $10 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning.

About Loving Lady Lazuli

Only one man in England can identify her. Unfortunately he’s living next door.

Ten years ago sixteen year old Sapphire, the greatest jewel thief England has ever known, ruined Lord Devorlane Hawley’s life. Now she’s dead and buried, all the respectable widow, Cassidy Armstrong, wants is the chance to prove who she really is.

But not only does her new neighbor believe he knows that exactly, he’s hell-bent on revenge. All he needs is the actual proof. So when he asks her to choose between being his mistress, or dangling on the end of a rope, only Sapphire can decide…

What’s left for a woman with nowhere left to go, but to stay exactly where she is?

And hope, that when it comes to neighbors, Devorlane Hawley won’t prove to be the one from hell.

Available

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Excerpt

“Because I would like to be a musician.”

“So, why don’t you damn well learn to be one then and spare us good—”

“Unfortunately, as the wife of a servant of the realm, in this time of crisis, that has not been possible.”

“Wife?”

There. She’d said it. Now she would wait for the expected reaction.

Lord Koorecroft’s eyes bulged. “But I had it from Tilda you was a widow.”

And still would be having it, had Gil not gone and turned up last night—which was why Cass felt her jaw stiffen in a ghastly parody of the smile she attempted to give.

“Wait…good madam, are you saying—”

Cass squeezed back into the dark interior of the carriage. Lord Koorecroft’s jaw had dropped open. This was over if she did not press the advantage but this was the perfect opportunity to do so. To seize it though and truly make it hers as she had failed conspicuously to so far, she needed to seem a little more discreet than she was perhaps being, sitting in a carriage at a tavern door. To look, in a street bustling with afternoon shoppers and traders unloading goods from carts, a little more dignified, put upon, by the ungallant Lord Hawley. To seem driven by his vile peeping Tom persecution into behaving in ways she would normally shrink from, gallant little woman that she was.

“Yes. In—in the service of my country, there have been sacrifices. That was but one.”

“Your—”

As he worked his mouth open and shut, Lord Koorecroft seemed astonished.

About the Author

Shehanne Moore writes gritty, witty, historical romance, set wherever takes her fancy. What hasn’t she worked at while pursuing her dream of becoming a published author? Shehanne still lives in Scotland, with her husband Mr Shey. She has two daughters. When not writing intriguing historical romance, where goals and desires of sassy, unconventional heroines and ruthless men, mean worlds collide, she plays the odd musical instrument and loves what in any other country, would not be defined, as hill-walking.

Her second book featuring a hottie scottie, His Judas Bride was recently released and featured previously on this blog.

Contacts

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Furious Unravelings • Kilting the Book Facebook Page

Adrienne deWolfe and “His Wicked Dream”

Jan23

Adrienne will be awarding the following to random commenters:

a $20 Amazon Gift Card
a $15 Amazon Gift Card
a TIN-STARS AND TROUBLEMAKERS (4 full-length ebooks in a box set by best-selling Western Historical Romance authors Adrienne deWolfe, Patricia Rice, Sharon Ihle, and Patricia Hagan
a copy of the best-selling WILD TEXAS NIGHTS series by Adrienne deWolfe (3 books, total)
a copy of the award-winning VELVET LIES series by Adrienne deWolfe (ebooks 1-3) .

Click on the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning! Click here for the Rafflecopter!

About His Wicked Dream

Haunted by scandal, Eden Mallory is determined to start over in a small Kentucky town. But she won’t soon forget the sexy, rugged doctor who rescued her from an outlaw, then rode off into the storm.

After losing his kid-brother to consumption, Dr. Michael Jones is obsessed with saving lives. He has no room for love or a wife. But the nights are lonely, and Eden haunts his dreams.

When Eden becomes his backdoor neighbor, she turns his world upside-down with her unconventional healing skills and sweet temptations. Then outlaws return, forcing Michael to confront his past if he is to save the most precious life of all.

Available

Velvet Lies Series

Wild Texas Nights Series

The Secrets to Getting Your Romance Novel Published (Series)

Tin-Stars and Troublemakers

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Excerpt

The Dinner Guest

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?

Eden spun guiltily at that rumble of ire. She hadn’t heard Michael come down the hall. In fact, she hadn’t heard much of anything but the shrieking of her conscience and the hammering of her heart. Spying Michael’s medical books high on the shelves in the family parlor had seemed like the answer to her prayers. But guilt had made her sneak. How could she explain her interest in medical research without revealing her secret?

“M-Michael.” Thunder shook the walls, or did that quaking come from Michael’s boots? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry—”

“Of course you meant to pry. Prying is what females do best.”

He snatched the volume from her hand, and Eden winced. Looming over her, all muscle and menace, he practically steamed. She felt his heat like a furnace blast, flushing her skin and melting her nerves into a puddle.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. Good heavens, what had put him in a foul mood this time? “I was just curious. About, um, respiration.”

“This volume is clearly marked A through H. Respiration would be in another volume entirely.”

“Yes, but bronchial inflammation—”

“Are you ill?”

Her pulse tripped as his gaze swept to her bodice. How could eyes so ice-blue one moment burn so scintillatingly hot the next?

She cleared her throat. “No. Nothing like that. I was just—”

His gaze snapped back to her face. “Then kindly refrain from snooping.”

She managed to gulp a breath. A sudden suspicion, one having to do with Sera and matchmaking, crept through Eden’s mind. As much as her reluctant host deserved a tongue lashing, Eden had to concede that Sera was the real culprit: she did nothing but try to marry Michael off.

Eden’s chin raised a notch. Well, it’s high time Michael Jones learns that Eden Mallory isn’t like all the other spinsters in this town.

She mustered the shreds of her decorum. “I completely understand your upset, Michael. If I’d come home after a long day’s work and discovered I was expected to entertain, I’d be put out too. If you prefer, I’ll leave.”

“That won’t be necessary. You’re my sister’s guest.”

And clearly unwelcome by you.

She told herself her hurt was ridiculous. She didn’t care one whit for Michael. Sera was the one she loved. “I don’t want to cause tension between you and Sera.”

“Sera causes tension between me and Sera.”

“Yes, well… I’m sure she believes she’s acting in your best interests.”

“By scheming to end my bachelorhood?”

Eden fidgeted. He did have a point.

“Dinner doesn’t have to be difficult,” she said, opting for a topic change. “Even though you don’t like me—”

“Who told you that?”

“Well . . . You did. Or rather, you do. Whenever you snap.”

“You shouldn’t take everything so personally.”

Did he actually mean to say that he liked her?

She had trouble hinging her jaw closed. “Well, that may be. But you have to admit, you’ve been short with me since the first day we met.”

“Are you asking me to apologize?”

“Well, no, I…” She caught herself. Why was she trying so hard to appease the cuss? “May I speak frankly?”

“When do you not?”

Ooh. Insufferable man.

“Honestly, Michael, you would try the patience of a saint. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t spend my nights dreaming up schemes to make you court me.”

“Indeed?”

“Heaven forbid. Why on earth would I waste a perfectly pleasant evening with a man who’s so unpleasant?”

“The question does give one pause.”

Her irritation climbed another notch. “You see? That’s precisely what I’m talking about. Rather than own up to your failings like a proper gentleman, you resort to sarcasm. You’re as high-handed as a tyrant. And you’re more prickly than a porcupine!”

“I see.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Anything else you’d like to share before dinner?”

Her hands flew to her hips. “Well, if you must know, I find you completely lacking in humor!”

His laughter startled her. It was a warm, rich, rumble of mirth, so utterly masculine and thoroughly frustrating, she wanted to smack him.

“That wasn’t supposed to be funny!”

“My dear Eden, are you certain you aren’t the one lacking in humor?”

About the Author

Adrienne deWolfe is a #1 best-selling author and the recipient of 48 writing awards, including the Best Historical Romance of the Year for Texas Wildcat (Book 3, Wild Texas Nights) and Doubleday’s Book of the Month Selection for His Wicked Dream (Book 2, Velvet Lies.) Adrienne is excited to announce that she will be donating a portion of her royalties from the Velvet Lies Series to urban reforestation efforts.

Fascinated by all things mystical, Adrienne writes a weekly blog about dragons, magic, and the paranormal at http://MagicMayhemBlog.com to help her research her upcoming paranormal romance series. She also writes a weekly blog featuring tips about the business of writing. She enjoys mentoring aspiring authors and offers professional story critiques with her book coaching services.

Contacts

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Twitter (Fantasy Fiction) • Twitter (Writing News)

Regan Walker and “The Twelfth Night Wager”

Jan20

Regan will be awarding a copy of three (3) of her books, Racing with the Wind, The Holly and the Thistle and The Shamrock and the Rose to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click on the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning.

Interview with Regan Walker

Your new novella, The Twelfth Night Wager, begins as two men in White’s, one of the men’s clubs in Regency England, are discussing marriage (“the leg shackled state”). Then one of them challenges the other to a wager, that he must seduce, bed and leave a certain unnamed lady (and she is a lady) by Twelfth Night, or January 5^th. I found this intriguing…how did you conceive of this?

Well, in my research about the lives of men and women during that period in England’s history (from 1811-1820) when the Prince Regent reigned, I discovered they loved to wager. About almost anything. And in some clubs, such as White’s (a very old club) they kept a book where the wagers were entered. Such occurred the evening my story begins: two men drinking at White’s and one, a bit bored, agrees to an outrageous wager. He’s a rake after all, known for his conquests. How difficult could it be to seduce one widow? Seemed like an interesting beginning to me, and apparently it did to Christopher St. Ives, Viscount Eustace, too.

Is this your first holiday themed story?

No, actually I have three—all set in the same year, 1818. First is The Shamrock & The Rose, a short story that takes place around Valentine’s and St. Patrick’s Day (with an Irish hero). Then there’s the novella, The Twelfth Night Wager, that begins in October and extends through the New Year, capturing the fall season of house parties, fox hunting, pheasant shooting, Christmas and, of course, Twelfth Night. And on the tale of that comes The Holly & The Thistle, a short story that features Lady Emily Picton, introduced in the novella, and a Scot hero. All three have as a character Muriel, the Dowager Countess of Claremont, an infamous matchmaker.

What are you working on now?

Having finished the third in my Agents of the Crown trilogy, Wind Raven (which should be released early spring), I turned back to a project I started a few years ago, a medieval titled The Red Wolf’s Prize. It’s set in England just after William the Conqueror claimed the land for his own. I’m about mid way through the novel and deep into a siege scene at the moment when William faced the rebellious English at Exeter in 1068. Researching is a love of mine but going all the way back to the 11^th century is a huge challenge, I must say.

What are you reading now?

I have a blog for lovers of historical romance, Regan’s Romance Reviews, and January is Viking month. So, I’m deep into some Viking romances that I’ll be reviewing for an update of my Best Viking Romances list. I love a good Viking raid, don’t you? All those handsome, conquering hunks towering over the fair maidens. Ah yes…at least in fiction it can end happily, no?

What author or authors have most influenced your writing?

It would be the classic romance authors I still read and re-read today. All have been featured on my blog. Their books (along with those of some newer authors) can be found on my “best lists.” But my short list would be Penelope Williamson, Elizabeth Stuart, Jan Cox Speas, Virginia Henley, Shirlee Busbee, Heather Graham (aka Shannon Drake), Meagan McKinney, Kathleen Woodiwiss and Marsha Canham to name a few. They tell sweeping sagas based on solid research for a great love story. And they are the ones I want my work to be like. I want to sweep the reader away and I want her to feel like she knows the characters, like she’s traveled with them. And, in the end, I want the reader to enjoy the happily ever after.

If your publisher offered to fly you anywhere in the world to do research on an upcoming project, where  would you mostly likely want to go? Why?

I’m thinking Istanbul. It has a fascinating history and I can so see a romance set there. And though I’ve been to 40 countries, including Turkey (more than once), I’ve never been to Istanbul. I would love it. Yet I must add that after I finish my medieval, I’m going to write the prequel to my trilogy, To Tame the Wind, and that novel begins in France in the late 18^th century. So, while I’ve been to Paris, a trip to northern France would not go amiss.

What’s your social media of choice and why?

It would have to be Facebook. I love the pictures, the conversations I strike up with my Facebook friends and the general sharing we indulge in. It’s the way I connect with readers most of the time, though some contact me via my blog, too. I spend at least an hour each day on FB and love it when my friends tell me my posts meant much to them or a particular picture I posted inspired them. I love to get new friends, too, so I encourage your followers to find me on Facebook (see below).

About The Twelfth Night Wager

On a dull day at White’s, the Redheaded Rake agreed to a wager: seduce and abandon the lovely Lady Leisterfield by Twelfth Night. After one taste of her virtue, he will stop at nothing less than complete possession.

Available

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Excerpt

Soon he was escorted into the gilded green dining room and to his place. The other guests had already been seated. Across from him sat Alvanley and Lady Ormond, and on either side of him a lady new to him. Neither, he reflected sadly, was the beautiful blonde who occupied his thoughts.

A few places down the table he saw her sitting next to Ormond. There was a gallant on her other side with whom she was conversing. The shimmering coral gown she wore embraced her curves, modestly revealing the creamy mounds of her full breasts. Would that she was close enough he could speak to her. Close enough he could inhale her delicate scent. Memories of their morning ride assailed him—

Perhaps it was just as well she was not so close. His fervent interest in the lady might be too apparent, which would not do.

Lord Ormond, seeing the direction of Christopher’s gaze, raised an eyebrow. Christopher forced a smile and dipped his head in greeting, just as Lady Ormond sitting across from him drew his attention.

“Good eve to you, Lord Eustace.”

“And to you, my lady. And you, Alvanley.”

Introducing himself briefly to the two brunettes on either side of him, Christopher attempted to keep the conversation moving along through dinner. One was the daughter of a fellow Whig and companion of the other, who was young and apparently unattached by the way she was flirting with him. Carrying on with many women while desiring only one was proving to be exhausting. Generally he took women on one at a time. Not so this game. He was forced to at least appear to pursue several at once.

About the Author

As a child Regan Walker loved to write stories, particularly about adventure-loving girls, but by the time she got to college more serious pursuits took priority. One of her professors thought her suited to the profession of law, and Regan realized it would be better to be a hammer than a nail. Years of serving clients in private practice and several stints in high levels of government gave her a love of international travel and a feel for the demands of the “Crown” on its subjects. Hence her romance novels often involve a demanding Prince Regent who thinks of his subjects as his private talent pool.

Contacts

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Jessica Jefferson and “Compromising Miss Tisdale”

Nov25

Jessica is giving away a $50 Amazon or BN.com Gift Certificate to one lucky reader. Click here for the Rafflecopter. Click the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning.

A DAY WITH JESSICA JEFFERSON – THE MORNING

0615 – Most mornings I wake up with a writing hang-over. The difference between a writing hang-over and other hang-overs is that one is the unfortunate product of unadulterated fun, while the other is the product of actual hard work. I try not to write till my children are in bed so I might better keep up my guise as good mother. I’m convinced my kids are insomniacs, so I often don’t get out my lap top till about ten or later, which can easily lead to an all night writing bender. It’s a bit like my college days, except I’m old now and don’t rebound nearly as well as I used to.

I’m usually lagging behind so my eight-year old takes on the role of toaster chef and prepares our breakfast. By this time, my husband is long gone since he has to be at work about dawn o’ clock each day. He’s an engineer working in a non-engineer leadership role for a utility company doing something rather vague, while I am technically a nurse working as a non-nurse in a kind of consulting role doing something equally vague within a healthcare system. My kids have no real idea of what either my husband or myself do, and frankly I have trouble putting it into words myself. We’re certainly not being invited to present at career day anytime soon.

The worst part of my morning is spent arguing about clothing choices. My two-year old wants to wear her rain boots daily, but if I’m lucky, she’ll opt to wear pants. My eight-year old will “misplace” the clothes we picked out together the night before in lieu of some sort of inappropriate ensemble. She can take the most innocent looking clothes and somehow manage to make them look like one of those numbers pop stars wear on the MTV Video Music Awards. Oy vey.

Sometimes we make it on time, sometimes we don’t. Getting kids out the door in the morning can be challenging. Lunch needs packed, shoes need put on the correct feet. I’d never make it in government since I negotiate with the little terrorists on a daily basis. I barter using whatever I have on hand – fruit snacks, juice boxes, the promise of new Barbie dolls, whatever it takes to get them in the car.

Once in the car, the two-year old insists on buckling her own five point harness. That never goes well. Both children are rather independent and they’re just really bright kids. As adults, I’ll be glad they possess such qualities. But as far as children go – I’d give anything for a dopey little people pleaser.

The line to drop the kids off at school usually overflows out onto the road and I end up blocking traffic with my larger than necessary SUV. I hate driving such a large vehicle, but it was either that or a minivan in order to haul everything and everyone. For some reason, undoubtedly rooted in our vanity, the SUV makes us feel better about ourselves. It makes us feel as if we haven’t lost the last semblance of our youth. In reality, when you see a SUV you can pretty much guess there’s a family in there with parents who dress too young for their age and think their choice in vehicle makes them look far cooler than they actually are.

I drop the toddler at the sitter and she runs happily into her arms. It warms my heart knowing that she loves the babysitter and that she’s well taken care of, but also makes me insanely jealous at the same time.

Finally, I arrive at work, ready to start my day. Every once in a while I’ll pull into the parking garage, look in my rear view mirror and see that I may have forgotten to drop the toddler off at the sitter’s, but for the most part we all make it to our right destinations.

Who knew the life of a romance author could be this glamorous?

About Compromising Miss Tisdale

Ambrosia Tisdale is the very picture of propriety and the epitome of what a respectable young lady should be. Haunted by a memory and compelled by her family, she pursues perfection to a fault.

The Earl of Bristol, Duncan Maddox, has returned to London after years of familial imposed exile. As the second son, he has led a life filled with frivolity, leisure, and a healthy dose of debauchery. Now his older brother has died, leaving the family’s flailing legacy in Duncan’s unwilling arms.

At the behest of his uncle, Duncan is advised to do the one thing that could provide instant fortune and respectability – he must marry. But there is only one prospect who meets the unique requirements to solve all the Earl’s problems – the lovely Miss Ambrosia Tisdale. But securing the prudent daughter of a Viscount’s hand proves to be more challenging than this scandal ridden second son of an Earl has bargained for.

With scandal, extortion, treachery, and even love itself threatening to keep him from his goal, will Duncan succeed in compromising Miss Tisdale?

Excerpt

James tapped his finger to the cleft in his chin. “So, I am to assume that you need financial prosperity, respectability, honor, and security virtually overnight? That is your dilemma?”

Duncan chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. “In so many words, yes.”

He shrugged. “Should be simple enough.”

Duncan laughed outwardly now. “Simple? You call that simple?”

James arched an eyebrow. “Such a quandary is hardly original to noble men like us.”

“How do you figure?”

“Your predicament is nothing new. Men of our station have been combating that very issue for years. And the solution is hardly novel. I’m quite surprised someone with your acumen hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“Clearly, I am ignorant, so please-enlighten me.”

“You need to marry.”

Duncan deflated. “Is that all?”

“Well, you couldn’t just marry anyone. She must be rich, but not noveau riche. And her family must be prominent. She needn’t be from a ducal house necessarily, but with rivaling status in its age and reputation. And since you’re such a cad, your wife will need to be the picture of morality. We’re talking the personification of righteousness-no skeletons in the closet, no relatives from the other side of the blanket, no scandals amongst third cousins. The gossip rags must have nothing on her or her family.”

Duncan felt his nostrils flair. “Yes, simple indeed. So, where exactly do you suggest I find this rich Lady Madonna?”

A slow smile crept up James’ face. “You’ve already met her.”

Confused, Duncan thought for a moment. Then he smacked into the great stone wall of realization at just what it was his friend was implying. “Miss Tisdale? You’re suggesting I marry Miss Tisdale? The Miss Tisdale who you just finished telling me is waiting for the perfect husband–who no doubt has far more prestige and fortune than I? You’re cracked.” Duncan turned and started walking back towards the curtain.

About the Author

Jessica Jefferson makes her home in northern Indiana, or as she likes to think of it – almost Chicago. Jessica originally attended college in hopes of achieving an English degree and writing the next great American novel. Ten years later she was working as a registered nurse and reading historical romance when she decided to give writing another go-round.

Jessica writes likes she speaks, which has a tendency to be fast paced and humorous. Jessica is heavily inspired by sweeping, historical romance novels, but aims to take those key emotional elements and inject a fresh blend of quick dialogue and comedy to transport the reader into a story they miss long after the last page is read. She invites you to visit her at jessicajefferson.com and read her random romance musings.

Contacts

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TJ Brown and “Summerset Abbey”

Oct28

The author will be awarding autographed copies of books two and three of the series, A Bloom in Winter and Spring Awakening to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour (open internationally). Click on the banner above to follow the rest of the tour and increase your chances of winning. Click here for the Rafflecopter.

About Summerset Abbey

Reminiscent of Downton Abbey, this first novel in a new series follows two sisters and their maid as they are suddenly separated by the rigid class divisions within a sprawling aristocratic estate and thrust into an uncertain world on the brink of WWI…

Rowena and Victoria, daughters to the second son of the Earl of Summerset, have always treated their governess’s daughter, Prudence, like a sister. But when their father dies and they move in with their uncle’s family in a much more traditional household, Prudence is relegated to the maids’ quarters, much to the girls’ shock and dismay. The impending war offers each girl hope for a more modern future, but the ever-present specter of class expectations makes it difficult for Prudence to maintain a foot in both worlds.

Vividly evoking both time and place and filled with authentic dialogue and richly detailed atmosphere, Summerset Abbey is a charming and timeless historical debut.

Available

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Excerpt

A lump rose in her throat as she caught sight of the ornate casket, draped with a full spray of lilies, carnations, and palm fronds. The only reason she was here, clutching Rowena’s and Victoria’s hands in hers instead of shrinking into the background with the other servants, was the kindness of the man who lay inside. After Prudence’s father had died, her mother, who had worked at Sir Philip’s estate as a girl, had been sent to attend to Rowena and Victoria’s ailing mother. When his wife died, Sir Philip asked her to stay on to help raise the girls, and Prudence, exactly between his daughters in age, became part of the family. Prudence, who volunteered her time at several different poorhouses in the city, knew exactly what happened to young girls left alone in the world. She would forever be grateful to Sir Philip for not allowing that to happen to her.

She blinked away her tears and occupied herself by looking at the rest of the congregation. Only a few looked familiar. Among them were Rupert Brooke, the high-strung and handsome young poet; Ben Tillett, the iron-jawed union leader; and Roger Fry, the controversial artist responsible for bringing London’s shocked attention to postimpressionism some years prior. These were some of Sir Philip’s friends, a motley collection of artists, intellectuals, and misfits.

Because the Earl had arranged the funeral, most of the people in attendance were his peers, men from the House of Lords and others from the cream of London society.

Sir Philip would have hated it.

The beautiful gold arches and polished marble of St. Bride’s Church gleamed, just as they had the few times the family had attended church. Sir Philip had chosen St. Bride’s because, as he used to say, “Sir Christopher Wren built the kind of church that God might actually enjoy.”

Gradually, Prudence became aware of a young man staring at her from across the aisle. Her eyes darted in his direction, then away. Moments later, unable to help herself, she glanced back to see whether he was still looking at her. He was. She turned slightly and stared fixedly at the bronze candelabra to the left of him, her cheeks burning.

Victoria leaned around her to whisper to Rowena. “Look, Lord Billingsly has noticed our Prudence.”

“I’m right here,” Prudence whispered, and gave both their hands a hard squeeze for emphasis.

She didn’t look his way again.

Once the service started, Prudence sank into a well of grief that threatened to drown her. The waves of it lapped at her from all sides, covered her head, and made sight almost impossible. Inside, her heart broke and a waterfall of sorrow poured from the cracks. On one side, Victoria sobbed quietly, while Rowena’s stiff resolve buoyed her from the other. She clung to their hands as the service passed in a blur of speeches.

They remained that way until it was time to get into the ornate black and gold funeral carriages that would take them back to their home in Mayfair for the reception. Behind the carriages stood a line of motorcars; most of the wealthy guests had long given up their carriages for the convenience and speed of automobiles. The Earl himself had several, and Sir Philip’s sleek Eton-blue Belsize sat idle in the carriage house, but the Earl insisted on traditional horse-drawn carriages.

“Miss Tate will ride in the staff carriage.” The Earl’s voice brooked no opposition and his square jaw firmed. Prudence knew that look. Rowena’s pretty face held the same expression when she got all stubborn about something.

Victoria’s eyes widened. “Prudence rides with us.”

“Nonsense. The Duke of Plymouth wishes to join us and there isn’t enough room.”

Prudence placed her hands on Victoria’s shoulders. Tension vibrated through the young girl’s slender body and Prudence’s stomach knotted, sure that Victoria was going to throw a fit, the kind she used to throw when the family still called her baby and she wanted the biggest sweet in the shop. Even at eighteen, Victoria wasn’t above a tantrum or two if she thought the situation warranted it. But her waiflike face suddenly fell and her lower lip trembled.

“It’ll be all right,” Prudence whispered. “I’ll go back with the staff and meet you at home.”

About the Author

TJ Brown is proud of her two children but coming in a close second is the fact that she parachuted out of a plane and beat the original Legend of Zelda video game. Her young adult historical about Harry Houdini’s illegitimate daughter came out in June from Balzer+Bray. She also writes adult historicals under TJ Brown. She resides with her husband and way too many pets in Portlandia.

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Shehanne Moore: His Judas Bride

Oct14

Shehanne will be awarding a $10 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

Click the banner above to comment on each stop of the tour and increase your chances of winning.

About His Judas Bride

To love…….

To save her son, there is nothing she won’t do. To save his people, neither will he. Dire circumstances force Kara McGurkie to forget she’s a woman. Dire circumstances force her to swear to love and honor, to help destroy a clan in order to get back the life she lost. But when dire circumstances force her to seduce her fiancé’s brother on the eve of the wedding, will the dark secrets she holds and the things she wants most, be enough to save her and them, from his powerful allure, especially when she knows he may just be playing with her.

Honor….

Callm McDunnagh, the Black Wolf of Lochalpin, ruthlessly guards heart and glen from dangerous intruders. But from the moment he first sees Kara he knows he must possess her, even though he also knows that surrendering to his desire may prove the most dangerous risk of all.

And betray…;

Now no problem becomes big problem as passion and desire rage out of control. Kara must look into the soul she thought she sold to make a choice. But can she look deep enough? Only she can decide who and what passion can save, or destroy, how when and who will finally learn the truth of the words… Till death do us part.

Excerpt

Yes. This tone was more reasonable, but she’d a horrible feeling the damage was done. His guests gaped. The serving girls gaped. Even the Wolf turned his head, his sea-green eyes glinting silver beneath his lowered brows.

This wasn’t just a question of keeping her expression neutral. After his performance in this very hall the other day the last thing Kara wanted was the Wolf striding over here and taking further issue with her betrothed. Not when the notion he owed her the reprieve was one she only just clung to.

When it was clear Ewen wanted to make a show, she must swallow her annoyance that the offer would never have arisen in the first place had the Wolf not waltzed in here, stand up, and take the arm Ewen McDunnagh now extended. But the crippling thing was that her father’s dungeon wasn’t the place for jigs. She had not danced in years.

To stand out there on the floor was to expose that fact. A jug, she could not help feeling, would be so much better. At least a jug would not leave her looking like a damned fool when she was meant to have lived in Edinburgh for five years jigging nonstop. There must be something she could do that would prevent this.

“The music is not to your satisfaction, perhaps?”

Suppressing the desire to grit her teeth, she forced a smile. “Oh, no, not at all my lord, the music is lovely. Quite beautiful, in fact. And you do me very great honor. I could not help noticing though, the fine dancer you are, while I—I, how can I possibly say this—”

“Something slower for my bonnie bride. She has been learning in Edinburgh and will show us the latest steps.”

About the Author

Shehanne Moore is a Scottish author, who writes gritty, witty, as much risky as risqué, historical romance, set wherever takes her fancy. Stories that detail the best and worst of human behaviour, as opposed to pouts and flounces. For years she worked at various things, while pursuing her dream of becoming a published writer, so she was gobsmacked to sell her book, The Unraveling of Lady Fury, written in three months, to U.S. publishers, Etopia Press, six days after subbing it.

Shehanne still lives in Scotland, with her husband Mr Shey. She has two daughters. When not writing intriguing historical romance, where goals and desires of sassy, unconventional heroines and ruthless men, mean worlds do collide, she fantasizes about cleaning the house, plays the odd musical instrument and loves what in any other country, would not be defined, as hill-walking.

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Elizabeth Cole and “A Heartless Design”

Sep9

Two randomly drawn commenters will each win a $10 iTunes gift card.

Comment on each stop of the tour to increase your chances of winning!

About A Heartless Design

An enigmatic woman, a determined spy, and a design that could shake the foundations of Europe…

“Heartless” Cordelia Bering refuses every marriage offer she receives. Yet men still try to win her, drawn by her sharp wit and intoxicating green eyes. But Cordelia knows a marriage could reveal her deepest secret and truly endanger her life. Besides, she hasn’t met a man worth considering, until…

Sebastien Thorne, a spy in the service of Crown. One of the elite agents in the group known as the Zodiac, he comes to London determined to solve a mystery with roots on the Continent. He won’t let anything distract him. But is Cordelia a distraction, or the key to the mystery? As he learns more about the “heartless” woman, he becomes embroiled in secrets, plots, and a design that could change the future…and Cordelia is at the center of it all.

A Heartless Design is the first book in the Secrets of the Zodiac, a series that blends the sensibilities of modern romantic suspense with the rich background of the Regency period.

SUSANA SAYS: Love this story! 4/5 stars!

Cordelia is exactly the sort of historical heroine I adore: a woman who knows what she wants, accepts the fact that she’ll not likely find it in marriage, and finds a way to do it as a single lady. No whining. No “in your face” feminist behavior that would antagonize society. On the other hand, if her secret does come out, she’s willing to live with the consequences.

Sebastien is just right for Cordelia. A scapegrace and wastrel in his younger days, he saw the light and reformed, quietly building up the family fortune and becoming involved in rewarding government work. His mother and sister remind him of his duty to marry and sire an heir, but he doesn’t see how he can commit to a family with his espionage activities.

That’s before he meets Cordelia, however. Drawn to her from their first meeting, once he discovers she has something to hide, he knows he must discover what it is…and hopes she’s not working for the enemies of the British government. But even if she’s not, he has his work cut out for him if he’s to persuade her to accept his offer of marriage when she’s turned down dukes and even princes in the past.

The mystery binds the two together and proves that they are stronger together than apart. I love the unusual servants and the widowed aunt who isn’t as blind to what’s going on as one assumes.

About the Author

Elizabeth Cole is a romance author with a penchant for history, which is why she lives in an old house in an old city. She can be found hanging around libraries and archives, or curled in a corner reading, cat on lap. She believes in love at first sight. Then again, she also believes that mac ‘n’ cheese is a healthy breakfast, so don’t trust her judgment on everything.