Author: Dee S.

Fun and games–traveling outside the U.S. #MFRWauthor

I admit to not having traveled outside the U.S. very much. And it’s sad because I love going to new places and meeting people and seeing things. However, the U.S. is so beautiful and diverse, there are places here I haven’t seen and should.

My first trip outside the U.S. was when Jack and I were traveling. We went into Canada a fair amount. We didn’t have much time to sightsee or have fun except once, when we rented a car and drove from Calgary to Banff and up the Icefield Parkway to Jasper. What a great time! Besides the scenery, the park at Jasper had opened a little early. We were just about the only guests in the restaurant—where Jack had trout they’d caught in the river practically outside the door. The cabins where we stayed were close enough to hear the rushing water as the spring snowmelt headed downstream. The trip was only for a weekend but it was so special that I remember it as though it were yesterday.

I’ve been lucky enough to have visited Great Britain and Scotland a few Scotland and castletimes. Each has been an enlightening experience. I love Scotland! The people are so friendly and the country feels like home to me. Maybe in another time and another life…? England proper is also wonderful. What a great city York is! So walkable, so historical. I loved my time there. The same for Oxford, where I attended the OxBridge program for teachers one summer. However, I wished Oxford had a few more benches around!

My sister-in-law talked me into going to Italy several years ago. To tell the truth, I wasn’t all that excited to see Italy, but she wanted someone to go with her and Jack encouraged me, so I went. She promised that once I saw Italy I’d want to go back again. The woman spoke truth! We spent time in Venice, Florence, and Rome, Each city was so different, and yet so the same. So much history, so much art. Too much to take in, in any one visit—or two or ten.

So where would I like to go if I were able to travel? I could happily go back to any of those places again. I’d also like to see Croatia and that whole peninsula, and I’d love to meet my pal, Jan in person! Australia and New Zealand, here I come!

I wish!!

What is your dream trip?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee

Burning Bridges by Anne Krist: old letters put the lie to Sara’s life. Now, mending her past mistakes while crossing burning bridges will be the hardest thing she’s ever done.

One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

To be a student again! Lessons on Seduction by Estelle Pettersen

Lessons on Seduction by Estelle PettersenLet the lessons begin!

Blurb for Lessons on Seduction:

When college student Sapphire Blake finds herself fresh out of a breakup, she is ready to embark on a new journey in her life. A dark, sensual journey. Freeing herself from the expectations set by her family, friends, and church, an innocent and unworldly Sapphire begins experimenting with her new casual lover, Vera Richland.

Julian Richland is ridiculously handsome, smart, and intimidating. This university professor finds himself enthralled in a sensual relationship with a woman willing to pay top money for his time in the bedroom. To pay off his debts and continue leading his lavish lifestyle, Julian discovers the world filled with sex, drugs, and lies may not be for him as he first thought. With his contract almost up, Julian has his sights set on a new endeavor.

When the pair are introduced by none other than Julian’s own sister, sparks are ignited as Julian sees past the conservative stigma Sapphire believes the world has placed on her. Instead, he sees a sexy vixen—and he can’t help but admit he wants her.

As the couple begins a dangerous, passionate liaison, secrets become exposed and lives are threatened. Will Julian be able to save his relationship with Sapphire and rekindle the fiery flame they share? Or, will fate have another ending in store? Find out in this thrilling and erotic new adult romance novel.

Buy links:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Ng8YbDhttps://books2read.com/u/47XXGj
Universal: https://books2read.com/u/47XXGj

Lessons on Seduction by Estelle Pettersen

Excerpt (WARNING! Explicit language):
Chapter One
Welcome to my Playground

Julian
First semester at Montville State University, August

“Baby, come back to bed,” she purred, grabbing my arm.

“I need to get to class. There’s no time to sleep in.” I sat on the edge of the bed, gently loosened her grip, and kissed her forehead.

“Oh, honey, please, just one more time.”

“There’s a coffee machine on the kitchen bench. Help yourself to it on the way out.”

“But—”

“You were good, sugar.” I leaned forward and ran my hand along her smooth, tan, inner thighs. I slid my index and middle fingers inside her wet slit, pulled out, then licked them to taste her scent.

Melina Montes, or Mindy, was a college student in her prime.

Her flavor? Spicy and aromatic.

***

She was a sexy hellcat whose tits were popping out of her low-cut tank top when I recognized her across the room at a party last night. Dark hair: check. Dark eyes: check. Tiny waist and a fucking banging body: check, check.

She and I had had casual sex before, so it didn’t take long for the familiar flirtation to turn into a make-out session, which resulted in business in the bedroom in my apartment, where she was a star.

Mindy was a little minx who knew how to satisfy a man. Her naked body was a piece of caramel cake, with small droplets of brown candy on the peaks of her breasts, and a smooth pussy that flowed cream so tasty and hot.

She fucked like a pro and knew how to handle my cock with her mouth. She started on the head, tasting it with her tongue, before using her suction technique, which was spot-on perfect.

Sixty-nine was my favorite number, so while she worked her magic on my cock with her lips, I snacked on her exquisite pussy. That pussy had a landing strip of short, dark hair, which I inhaled to take in her aroma. She was musky, sensual, and pleading to be licked.

My tongue landed on her landing strip, giving it gentle licks. Then my mouth dove into her core, nipping, sucking, and circling the ripe center with my wicked tongue. Her whimpers and mewling grew louder as I continued eating her while pinching her perfectly plump nipples with my fingers and thumbs to stimulate a little more pleasure. Those nipples were divine—they were territory that I’d visited from time to time before, nibbling, licking, and devouring them until they were sore.

“Oh my God, oh my God.” Mindy’s filthy mouth broke away from my cock and prayed to a divine deity.

I continued to roll her nipples between my fingers while feasting on her clit, wanting more of that pussy cream. Her body quivered as I continued with the motions, bringing her to a state of euphoria.

“Fuck, Julian, I’m going to come!” Mindy screamed.

I broke my kiss, positioned myself on top of her, and grabbed a condom. Once I had it on, I slid my hard, throbbing cock inside her, pounding into her sweet, wet pussy at a paced speed, until she screamed unfiltered pleasure peppered with obscenities. We both came hard and fast before I collapsed onto her body, catching up on my breathing. A minute later, we lay in silence, and Mindy’s head rested on my chest. She played with the contours of my chest and stomach, tracing her fingers from my sternum to just above my love trail.

“Your abs. They’re so fucking rock hard,” she whispered, before falling asleep.

I’d just had the fuck of my life with Mindy. I’d known her for years, and she would come onto me like a cat in heat. We were amicable, but I wouldn’t call her a friend, so it was a case of acquaintances with benefits. You see, I met her through my sister, Vera, years ago—they both went to high school together and studied law in college. We hooked up from time to time, but that’s all it was.

After a night of little sleep, I woke up at seven, showered, and got ready for class. The mirror reflected a clear image of a man with mahogany hair and light bags under his dark, burnished eyes. I stared at the man, who was six feet tall with broad shoulders and a muscular build, thanks to my daily routine at Evolve Gym. The exercise initially helped me with a few back problems and eventually became a habit of taking care of myself. I lathered my square, unshaven jaw and started shaving for a fresh, clean look.

There’s a faint scar, just above my right eyebrow, which serves as a reminder of my youth, when a little shit by the name of Wilson Cole shoved a swing bench into my forehead. It’s a memento to remind me that the world is full of shitheads, and probably only twenty percent of the population are decent people worth having a conversation with.

I didn’t mind the heavy nights of sex, but there was one problem—I had morning classes to teach and needed at least a double shot of coffee on the way to the archaeology department. Being a teacher’s assistant/tutor while completing my PhD in archaeology at Montville State University meant I had to be alert and upbeat in front of the class. Based in the coastal city of Lester Harbor, in the state of Montville, the university had a leading archaeology research center.

As for Mindy, I didn’t have time for anything more than a flirtationship. She managed to find her way out of my apartment later that day and left her black, lacy thong, which I threw in the bathroom bin. My name isn’t Julian Carpenter Richland, the thong-collector. My middle name is my mother’s maiden name, by the way.

Lessons on Seduction by Estelle Pettersen

 Interview:

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
EP: When I drafted Lessons on Seduction, it was originally a sweet college romance, but I felt that it was flat and not quite what I was after if I was a reader looking for a hot love story. I wanted a steamy romance book with a decent plot, a protagonist who is both empowering and feminine, and a love interest who is intelligent, sexy, and relatable. I ended up doing some major revamps on the story after talking with a few friends, and the result is an erotic romance.

NA: A fun fact about writing your book:
EP: In Lessons on Seduction, Julian was originally Sapphire’s college teacher, but I wanted to divert slightly from the cliché teacher-student romance.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer? EP: I’ve always loved writing stories since I was little, so it was no surprise for my family and close friends back home in Australia. I met my husband during a transition period in my life, so writing a fiction novel was probably a little more surprising for him. However, the genre I write doesn’t surprise him at all, as he knows I’m a big romantic at heart. People in the town I live in would be quite surprised that I write erotic romances though. When I tell people that I write, they usually ask me if I write children’s books. Maybe one day.

My friends on a writing platform called Wattpad have been incredibly encouraging, and I’ve gotten to where I am today as a writer because of the support they’ve given me.

NA: The biggest surprise you had after becoming a writer.
EP: The biggest surprise I had after becoming a writer is having my manuscript for Lessons on Seduction accepted by my publisher Black Velvet Seductions. That was the highlight of my writing career, and through this experience, I’ve met wonderful authors with the same publisher whose work I’ve admired for a while. Being a shy introvert, I was a little tongue-tied when I was first introduced to them, as I was already familiar with some of their works. The BVS authors are my writing family, and they’ve helped me come out of my shell as an introverted author.

NA: Do you have quirky writing habits?
EP: Yes, I have some rather quirky writing habits. I’m a sensitive writer and my moods affect my writing. Aside from being in the right mood, I need my coffee, music, a peaceful environment, and light. Without these, I don’t function very well with writing. I also love using tropes, particularly metaphors and allegories. I use these to give clues to readers on what is coming up in the later chapters.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?
EP: Can I sleep in for another fifteen minutes? I tend to hit the snooze button, as I’m not much of a morning person especially in the winter, when it’s dark, cold, and raining outside. I don’t mind the alarm so much in the summer when I wake up to the natural morning light.

NA: What are you working on now?
EP: I’m working on a cowboy romance short story, set in outback Australia, for my publisher Black Velvet Seductions. After that, I’ll continue working on the second book in the Seduction series, which is Julian’s sister Vera’s story.

NA: What is any question we didn’t ask that you would like to answer?
EP: I can’t think of any for now. I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity to be interviewed. I want to give credit to Jessica Greeley, at BVS, for the artwork and the cover of Lessons on Seduction– she did an amazing job with it.

 Meet Estelle:

Estelle PettersenEstelle Pettersen is an Australian author and former journalist whose romance stories explore empowerment, freedom, and finding one’s strength. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree, majoring in Journalism and Psychology, from the University of Queensland, Australia. Her second degree is an MBA from Queensland University of Technology, Australia. She is a member of Romance Writers of Australia and is passionate about history, languages, cultures, traveling, food, and wine. She is happily married and living in Norway these days.

 Author links: 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/elusiveromance
Twitter: https://twitter.com/elusive_6788
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elusive_6788
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/94753616-e-pettersen
Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/estellepettersen
Amazon page: https://amz.run/3Ld2
Author website: https://elusiveromance.com/

What’s a guy to do? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

 One Woman Only by Dee S. KnightBlurb:
As one of a set of triplets, Jonah Goodman has always stood out as the least academic—and the last one to take the world, or commitment, seriously. Thing is, that’s not really who he is. But who can he convince of that? Not his family, who see him as they always have. And maybe not his one love, the sweetheart he left behind in high school but with whom he is now sharing an erotic holiday. Will he get his second chance to prove to Kelly that he is a loving man who wants more than a sensual few days, but a real relationship with the woman he lost once and doesn’t want to lose again? With that chance and Kelly’s love, Jonah knows that a “good man” can become a better man.

Buy link:

Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:

He lifted his finger to signal the barkeep, who slung a towel over his shoulder and came right down.

“A burger and fries, please.” Jonah had said the words, but in synch with someone else. Someone whose voice was slightly higher and a lot more feminine. He turned his head to the left and met the green gaze of the last person he wanted to see tonight. For an instant, the spit dried in his mouth and his eyes widened as his past slammed headfirst into his present. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and his body responded with an immediate and aching erection.

Then she opened her mouth.

“Oh hell,” Kelly said. “It’s you.”

Irritation struck Jonah right between the eyes at Kelly’s tone if not her words. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“So,” interrupted the barman, “two burgers and fries?” He looked at Jonah. “You paying?”

“Sure,” he said at the same time she said, “No.”

“I don’t mind,” Jonah said.

“No thank you,” Kelly said stiffly. She held out a crisp, new twenty-dollar bill. “Rare as you’ll cook it. Add a bottle of Sam Adams to that, will you? And I’ll be sitting over there in that back booth.”

The guy behind the bar took her money and scribbled on a pad of paper. “Change will come with your beer.” He looked to Jonah. “You?”

“Medium rare on the burger, and I’ll take a refill on my beer.” Standing, he dug out a wrinkled twenty from his front pocket and handed it over. “I’ll be somewhere near that back booth.” The guy nodded and left. Turning, Jonah noticed that Kelly had already gone. She sat as prim as could be, in the back of the dining room, in the booth she’d claimed. A two-top table sat empty next to the booth. Grabbing his beer, he ambled in that direction.

Why in the world, after all the angst he’d suffered knowing he was going to have to see her this weekend, did he now willingly sit near Kelly? He must have some masochist thing going on that he never noticed before. He placed his beer bottle on the table and sat down facing the same direction she faced.

Years ago, she’d worn a lilac fragrance. When the lilacs bloomed each spring since, he’d thought of Kelly. She wore something different now. Jonah was grateful because it provided a break from his memories of her.

“What are you doing? There are any number of other places you could sit, and I wish you would.”

“What was that?” Jonah drawled. “This is a free country and I believe I can sit anywhere I want to. I choose here.”

“Ugh! I thought when we saw each other again you’d be aggravating but I see I underestimated you.” She craned her neck as though looking for another table.

“There’s no place you could move in here right now that I couldn’t find a place close by so let’s just get this initial meeting out of the way and the rest of the weekend will be easier.”

Jonah cast a glance at her and then faced forward again. She didn’t look that much different than when he’d last seen her. How could that be? Same strawberry blonde hair, but cut stylishly short. Her eyes still flashed emerald fire—he’d seen that when she glared at him at the bar. If anything, her shape was more perfect than when they were in high school. Her waist was narrow, her breasts full, and legs that disappeared under her knee-length dress seemed long and curvy. But there was something very different about this Kelly. That glowing, smiling, confident girl he’d fallen in puppy love with and always wondered about had disappeared. In her place sat a woman who looked as though she’d seen a side of the world that had disappointed her.

Protectiveness pushed to the forefront and Jonah wished he could knock her troubles—whatever they were—off her shoulders. One thing remained the same. She still made his heart beat erratically, still had him wishing he could hold her—and do more. He needed to get himself under control if he was going to avoid making a fool of himself.

Quietly she sat, grinding her jaw. Then, her shoulders slumped and she laid her head against the back of the booth as though it was just too heavy to hold up any longer. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. Here, let’s make this easier.” He stood up and then slid into the booth across from her. All the better to stare into her eyes and study her plump lips that looked so kissable he nearly groaned.

Fire flashed in the emerald depths of her eyes again. “I didn’t invite you to sit with me.”

“Are you sure? Sorry. I thought you did.” The waitress brought their beers and change. Jonah handed her back a five and gave her a broad smile. “Thanks. I’ll have my dinner here, too, okay?”

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Gold, gold and more gold #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!

Lies of Gold by Jan SelbourneLies of Gold

Blurb
Their love affair ended in anger and painful consequences. Katherine Ashford has guarded a secret through years of abuse. Fighting wars and hard living has numbed Julian Ashford. Then fate steps in. Gold is crossing the Channel to Napoleon Bonaparte and Julian is ordered back to where it all began, and Katherine. It’s her secret and the increasing danger that rekindles the love they once shared. When a murder exposes lies, death and devastating betrayal, they finally face the mastermind behind this sordid smuggling operation.

Buy Links
Amazon
Goodreads
Barnes and Noble

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt
Julian felt a sliver of shock when he opened the door to his bedchamber. He couldn’t remember how he got here. Swearing softly, he walked to the window overlooking the front courtyard and rested his head against the glass. He’d fathered a child, a daughter. For nine years, his daughter had lived in this house as Charles’s daughter. His vision blurred. Ten years of hard living had buried those deep painful scars and all it took was one look at Katherine and that small girl’s face to peel it all away. Like peeling an onion, his eyes were stinging like hell.

He remembered the night he met Katherine as if it were yesterday. Charles was in France and he was in London attending a debutante’s ball. Bored out of his head with the simpering young females and strutting males he was looking for an excuse to depart when his cousin’s tall, elegant wife, Katherine was introduced to him. The orchestra began playing and he asked her to join him on the floor. It was a waltz; he took her in his arms, her eyes met his and he knew he’d met the only woman he’d ever love. They’d set off murmurs behind fans for dancing twice and they didn’t leave each other for a week. They’d made intense, passionate, love, they’d laid in each other’s arms and talked for hours, they were as one. She’d confided Charles was a hard, brutish man but she would not leave him because she’d lose all rights to her four years old son. He’d begged her, made promises he knew he couldn’t keep. She’d shaken her head in despair. As soon as Charles returned to London they would go home to Halton Hall.

He’d prayed Charles’s ship would sink to the bottom of the Channel. She’d cried in his arms; he’d cried in her arms. The day before Charles was due to arrive in London they became tense with each other and finally, distraught, he’d accused her of selling herself for the title and privilege. She’d thrown a heavy teapot at his head. When it struck, he’d seen stars for several seconds before shouting more insults. She’d furiously told him he couldn’t afford to keep her on his army pay. He’d walked out.

Julian barely remembered the following months of heavy drinking and angry self-pity until the army knocked his arrogance and selfishness out of him and saved his sanity. He knew damn well his army pay wouldn’t have kept her and he knew damn well she’d have lost all rights to her son. Knowing Charles, he would have demanded she be brought back to him and the law and the church would have supported him. Her life would have been worse than hell. Now this, Christ, never in a million years did he expect this. He wanted to walk away but he couldn’t because the whole damn top secret investigation would crumble or blow up in his face.

He sat down by the fire and put his head in his hands. He didn’t know it then, but that night fourteen months ago, changed his life. Benjamin Bloomfield, aide de camp to His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, had ordered Brigadier Sir Ian MacDonald, Sir Henry Whitton and himself to meet at a nondescript location on the outskirts of London. On their arrival, they’d been momentarily lost for words to find a sober and serious Prince Regent waiting for them. Senior government officials had drawn the Regent’s attention to the alarming amounts of gold leaving England. Well-placed sources in France had reported English gold was being smuggled across the Channel to help finance Napoleon Bonaparte’s army. Intensive investigations along the east coast had failed to find any solid evidence but the Regent was not satisfied. He and Bloomfield were convinced someone in the upper echelons of power and influence was behind it or protecting the smugglers. That night the five men present decided that from now on the Prince Regent would shrug it off as rumors and lose interest.

That night MacDonald, Whitton and Julian agreed to begin their search for the source. The Prince Regent named the secret investigation Spider’s Web. The three men thought the name childish but they dutifully indulged His Royal Highness. Not one word of the meeting was recorded and at the conclusion the Prince Regent instructed the three men to meet on the first day of each month and report their progress to Bloomfield the day after. Their investigations were secret and painstaking and gradually they began to close in on this part of the coast. They had observed from a distance, they had moved a little closer and then, as with every other investigation, the scent disappeared. However, they were convinced, and MacDonald decreed Julian was the only suitable person to come and go around the Ballingford estates and the coast without raising suspicions.

Stretching his feet towards the fire, he remembered his furious refusal to return to this place he despised intensely and how he nearly resigned his commission when summoned to a private audience with the Prince Regent. High Treason was involved and as an officer of the Crown he was expected to do his duty. He’d reluctantly bowed to HRH’s orders and it was agreed that to be convincing he’d have to be in dire straits to return. His debts, scandals and fistfights were carefully and authentically orchestrated culminating in him being bawled out by Ian MacDonald who’d conveniently forgotten the raw young corporal and scandal loving clerk in his office. Then their one reliable informer, who’d only agreed to meet him under strict conditions of anonymity, was found with his throat cut. He and Baker had arrived at Halton Hall with no idea of where to start or where to look for the needle in the haystack of boats and fishermen and identify whoever was behind this well organized group of traitors. When he did find evidence, his orders were to send a coded message to MacDonald and Whitton and the net would close in.

No matter what was thrown at him now, he could not walk away. They were so close and if the web was broken it could not be repaired. Nor could he let down Ian MacDonald, his uncle and mentor, to whom he owed so much.

Jan
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

Contact Jan:
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No place does it like the South! Death Southern Style by Beverley Bateman

Death Southern Style by Beverley Bateman

Blurb for Death Southern Style:
When Perrine Dupré dies under suspicious circumstances her daughter, Julie Ann Dupré, returns to New Orleans to find the truth about her mother’s death. She uncovers a family secret, hidden for years. Now someone is trying to kill her. Will the little dog who appears after her mother’s death help her? Is the sexy detective out to help her, or is he part of police corruption?

Detective Connor O’Reilly, a native of New Orleans, comes from a family of police. He’s an honest cop but realizes there is corruption in the division. His father may have died as part of that corruption. He meets Julie Ann, checks out her mother’s death and finds it was badly handled. Julie Ann deserves the truth and he wants to find it for her.

Julie Ann and Connor work together to unravel the real reason behind Perrine Dupré’s murder, Julie Ann’s mysterious past, and why people want her dead, while developing their challenging relationship. Can they both survive? And can their relationship survive?

Excerpt:
Perrine Dupré hurried down the street. She needed to get home. Dark New Orleans clouds hovered overhead. Thunder rolled. Large drops of late May rain pelted the streets of the French Quarter. It sounded like hail as the fat globs bounced off the pavement behind Perrine. The ozone mixed with the scent of magnolia and the smell of shrimp and fish cooking in the area.

The older African American woman struggled against the wind. It whipped her umbrella inside out. She clutched it tightly so not to lose it. Rain blurred her vision. Thunder crashes caused her to jump. She stumbled up the three steps to her front door. Her daughter was coming home for a visit. Perrine’s pulse increased and a smile sneaked out.

Perrine loved her New Orleans. She hated to travel, but two years ago she’d gone to New York to see Julie Ann and her new business. It was a mass of busy airports and crowded flights, but she’d enjoyed seeing the city and staying in her daughter’s apartment. Her daughter had showed off her new interior design business, introduced Perrine to a few of her friends and dragged Perrine to some of the typical tourist activities. Julie Ann had been getting her designing business established then and had a challenge taking time off to leave and come home. Recently she’d taken on a partner. It freed up a little extra time. Tomorrow Julie Ann would be home in New Orleans and Perrine could give her a big hug.

Juggling her parcels, umbrella and the key Perrine jabbed it in the direction of the lock. Finally, the key found the opening and turned.

Thunder rumbled a little louder, sounding like pins crashing in a bowling alley.

Perrine turned the doorknob and froze.

One of her psychic visions flashed in front of her. Her shoulders sagged. A man stood inside. Her visions didn’t lie. She wasn’t going to see Julie Ann after all. And she’d miss their regular telephone call tonight, too.

She wasn’t prepared to die. A single tear shimmered down her cheek. Her heart pounded. She clutched her parcels to her chest. Why now?

Lightning flashed. Thunder crashed again.

He waited for her to come inside.

The vision showed her crumpled on the ground in front of the house. She’d run, but obviously she wasn’t going to get far. Even if she managed to escape, they would kill her eventually. And after tonight Julie Ann would be home. She would also be in danger.

The family was too rich and powerful. They didn’t care about collateral damage or anyone who might get hurt. Had they killed off all the other people involved? Was that why the documentation wasn’t important anymore? The birth certificate should have been enough.

There was so much she should have shared with Julie Ann. At least then she would be aware of the threat.

Perrine didn’t want to die in the house. It would leave a permanent stain and memory. Julie Ann might never enter the house again if Perrine’s body was found inside.

In her mind, Perrine stared into the depths of the house, hands trembled, freezing cold filled her chest. She had to make a decision. He was getting ready to make a move. Perrine dropped her parcels, turned and raced down the steps.

The skies opened wide and lightning flashed across the sky, turning it an electric white. Perrine crumpled to the street. No one heard the shot. An icy shroud of death enveloped over her.

The front door closed. The lock clicked.

She felt no pain, not even when a boot kicked her sharply in the ribs – twice.

The feet moved away.

A gate squeaked.

A car engine roared to life.

The phone rang. No one answered it tonight.

Her spirit prepared to leave.

Perrine regretted that she’d never shared any information about Julie Ann’s real mother with her daughter, or how her mother had been murdered. She’d tried to protect her baby.

Julie Ann’s birth mother had kept records and passed them to Perrine, to be used for blackmail purposes for everyone’s protection.

It hadn’t saved Elizabeth, Julie Ann’s birth mother. She’d been killed before Julie Ann was a year old. That had been an ominous sign. Perrine had spent years looking over her shoulder, but there had been no issues. No one ever threatened them. Even today, there had been no demands or threats.

To the best of Perrine’s knowledge, no one else had been in danger since. Although she had never looked up any of the people involved at the time of Julie Ann’s birth. Now, for whatever reason, death had reared its ugly head. The documents hadn’t saved her. There’d been no threats, just the shooter.

What had changed? Why now?

She wished she’d at least told Julie Ann about the documents. It might help save life.

Perrine’s mind dimmed. She prayed to her god to help her keep Julie Ann alive. Her spirit gradually left her body and floated away. Using her fading power, Perrine pulled on the power of the Priestess to allow her to remain on earth, in any form.

Julie Ann would be at risk. Perrine might still be able to protect her. She needed to be there, at least in spirit, for her daughter.

Buy Links:
eBook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B089VRC1WR
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1777262410

Interview time!

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
BB: I like to use a little paranormal in books and I decided that New Orleans was the perfect place for a setting with a paranormal twist and a history of voodoo. Then I came up with the first scene of having a murder occur and the victim had a psychic vision of it abut to happen. After that I had to figure out why. I added and subtracted ideas, changed them and eventually came up with the complete plot for the book.

NA: What sort of research did you do to write this book?
BB: I researched New Orleans, districts, houses, funeral homes, voodoo, police departments and fight scenes.

NA: A fun fact about writing your book.
BB: I was in New Orleans with friends before I wrote the book. We stayed in a very old brick hotel in the Bourbon Street area. Our room had brick walls on the exterior. On the way back to our room one night we bought pralines. I had mine in the paper bag on my bedside table. During the night I was wakened by someone trying to get the pralines out of the bag. There was no one there. I believe t was a ghost trying to get at it. That same night my roommate said she woke up because someone was flicking the plaster from between the bricks at her as she lay in bed.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?
BB: I don’t have a day job any longer. Previously I was an administer for a government childcare and adult care program.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?
BB: I’ve been writing ever since I can remember. I’d write plots and locked in a room stories. After I developed breast cancer for the first time I decided if I was going to do anything with my writing, I needed to get serious. So I wrote my first book.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
BB: My family and my friends that aren’t writers are very encouraging but if you start to talk about t, their eyes glaze over.

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
BB: A bit of both. I get a feel for the plot and my characters and I write maybe one sentence per chapter as to where the story is going. Then I start writing, but I don’t always follow my one sentence outline.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
BB: The wonderful people I have met over the years, both online and in person.

NA: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
BB: Before or after Covid? Before I liked to travel, do glass fusion, eat out, and play my Native American flute. Now I putter in the garden and walk my rescue dog – and still play my flute.

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have on?
BB: Okay, that’s funny. Because of the Covid virus I spend most of time at home and I slouch around in leggings and t-shirt. I love pandas and today I’m wearing my panda t-shirt.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?
BB: I’m one of the lucky ones, although with Covid there might be a lot more people, but I don’t wake up to an alarm. So I wake up when I’m ready to face the day.

NA: Strangest place you’ve brushed your teeth?
BB: I’m not sure it’s that strange but it would be in my car, (at a stop light).

NA: What are you working on now?
BB: I’m working on two things at the moment. Book 2 of The Foundation – Liability Wife – Lydia’s Story, and a novella.

NA: Did you enjoy writing Death Southern Style?
BB: Yes. It was a fun book to write. While there is murder, attempted murder and corruption, there’s also paranormal elements which I love and were fun to wind into the plot. And the research, for example the funeral, were fascinating to research. I enjoyed writing this book.

Meet Beverley:
Beverley BatemanBeverley Bateman now lives in Medicine Hat, Alberta. She recently moved from the Okanagan Valley in BC, Canada. Instead of vineyards, orchards, lakes, and mountains she has ranches, farmers and a close community. She lives there with her husband and her Bichon-poodle rescue dog. During the cold Alberta winters, she snowbirds to Arizona and does glass fusion, watercolor painting and plays the ukulele besides working on her latest romantic suspense. Hunted, Missing and Targeted are part of her Montana series. She also has her Holly Devine series: A Cruise to Remember, and a Murder to Forget. Don’t Go is her darker romantic suspense.

Author Links:
Website – https://www.beverleybateman.com
Blog – http://beverleybateman.blogspot.ca/
Twitter http://Twitter.com/kelownawriter
Facebook Authorpage – http://www.facebook.com/AuthorBeverleyBateman?ref=hl

Pinterest  http://pinterest.com/okwriter
Amazon author page http://www.amazon.com/Beverley-Bateman/e/B008M01F5E

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/beverley.bateman.18?fref=ts
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7052567.Beverley_Bateman

LinkedIn – babateman@shaw.ca
Instagram – Beverley.Bateman

Whatever the kind, give me chocolate! #MFRWauthor

It used to be a tradition in Jack’s family to give Whitman’s Samplers at Christmas. Ooo! I loved that gift! And it was a sign of Jack’s love for me that he used to let me have all the caramels. However, other than chocolate covered caramels, and some candy bars like Baby Ruth, I’m not much of a chocolate lover. Jack could consume his weight in chocolate and be a happy camper, but not me. A piece of cake that he could eat two servings of, I can handle a couple of bites and I’m done.

I guess I’m that rare (strange) woman who isn’t a huge fan of the treat that has such a great effect on emotions and well-being. I had a feeling, though, that someone has matched personalities to chocolate, and I was right. I found two sites that explain how which chocolate we pick from the box shows something about us. For me, I’m an introvert (I pick the squares and rectangles), and I’m happy (caramel). Since it doesn’t matter whether the chocolate is dark or milk—as long as there’s caramel inside—I can be either a hard charger up for a challenge (dark) or relaxed and romantic (milk). It depends on the day, I suppose.

Here are two sites I found fun to read: The Westbridge Hotel blog and Charbonnel et Walker blog. Have fun deciding which personality fits your chocolate preferences! How accurate were your choices?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Burning Bridges by Anne Krist: old letters put the lie to Sara’s life. Now, mending her past mistakes while crossing burning bridges will be the hardest thing she’s ever done.

One Woman Only
Only a Good Man Will Do
Naval Maneuvers

Chocolate – milk, dark or light? Jan Selbourne #MFRWauthor

I don’t care if its milk, dark or light, its chocolate and should be enjoyed – anytime – anywhere.

As a dedicated chocolate lover, I decided to check some chocolate facts and look what I found.

The cocoa beans grow inside the cacao fruit. It takes about 900 cacao beans to make 1 kilo of chocolate. We cannot turn our backs on such effort.

More important, here are some of the benefits:

  • It is good for the heart and circulation.
  • It reduces risk of stroke.
  • Its mineral rich.
  • It reduces cholesterol.
  • It’s good for your skin.
  • It can help you lose weight.
  • It’s good for mothers and babies.
  • It may prevent diabetes.
  • Chocolate is good for the brain.
  • Chocolate makes you feel better.

While checking these invaluable facts I learned Napoleon loved chocolate and demanded it be available at all times, including his military campaigns. (I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn his chocolate was stolen by the Duke of Wellington before the Battle of Waterloo.)

Chocolate plays an important role in society. Grandma’s birthday. Valentine’s Day. A thank you. A peace offering, often accompanied with flowers. What better housewarming gift than a chocolate and wine hamper? Heck, any excuse will do.

‘Ah’, some righteous souls will say. ‘It can be addictive.’ Of course it’s addictive! One look at a box of chocolates and I’m an addict and a thief. I can be trusted with someone else’s money, car, wine but I freely admit, I cannot be trusted with their chocolate.

It has just occurred to me that the characters in my historical novels have enjoyed wine and good food but not chocolate. That unforgivable omission will be rectified in my current novel under construction. One character might just gorge on it to justify my bad habits.

So, now we know milk dark or light is good for our health and well being we can indulge without any guilt. – and the witty sign at climate rallies puts it in a nutshell. “Save the Earth – It’s the only planet with chocolate.”

What do you think?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Jan 

The Woman Behind the Mirror 
The Proposition
Lies of Gold—Silver Historical for 2019: Coffee Pot Book Club

Saturday’s Child: historical fiction by Rosemary Morris

Saturday's Child by Rosemary Morris

Saturday’s Child works hard for a living…

After the Battle of Waterloo, motherless ten-year-old Annie travels to London with her father, Private Johnson. Discharged from the army, instead of the hero’s welcome he deserves, his desperate attempts to make an honest living fail. Without food or shelter, death seems inevitable. Driven by desperation Johnson pleads for help from Georgiana Tarrant, his deceased colonel’s daughter.

Georgiana, who founded a charity to assist soldiers’ widows and orphans, agrees to provide for them.

At Major and Mrs Tarrant’s luxurious house, Annie is fed, bathed and given clean clothes. Although she and her father, her only relative, will be provided for there is a severe price. Johnson will work for Georgiana while Annie is educated at the Foundling House Georgiana established.

Despite the years she spent overseas when her dear father fought against the French, the horror she witnessed, and recent destitution Annie’s spirit is not crushed. She understands their separation is inevitable because her father cannot refuse employment. Annie vows that one day she will work hard for her living and never again be poor. It is fortunate she cannot foresee the hardship and tragedy ahead to be overcome when she is an adult.

Buy link:

Prologue and excerpt

An interview with Rosemary:

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
RM: While reading historical non-fiction I found out that after the Battle of Waterloos many former soldiers were destitute.

NA: What sort of research did you do to write this book?
RM: I studied the politics, economics and social history of the Regency era and as Saturday’s Child is set in Brighton on the Sussex coast, so I visited the town.

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from your book?
RM: I want my readers to be immersed in the era and for the story to linger in their minds after they have reached the end.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?
RM: I can never remember a time when I did not make up stories. I developed a passion for reading historical fiction, biographies and much more, as well as a passion for history.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
RM: My family are very proud of me. My friends, who know how hard I work, are pleased for me.

NA: The biggest surprise you had after becoming a write.
RM: How generous other authors are with advice

NA: Do you outline your books ahead of time or are you more a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
RM: Before I begin a novel, I know what the theme and the plot are, and have completed profiles for the main characters, but I don’t make detailed plot plans.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
RM: When I began to write novels, I was amazed by how generous established authors were with their advice; and I am very grateful for the praise in many reviews of my intriguing, classical romantic novels

NA: Which kind of scenes are the hardest for you to write? Action, dialogue, sex?
RM: I would find it very difficult to write sex scenes but have no wish to include explicit sex in my novels. I prefer to write about intense emotion and desire.

NA: What do you like to do when you are not writing?
RM: I enjoy visiting places of historical interest, having a holiday by the sea, working in, and enjoying my organic garden where I grow herbs, fruit and vegetables, and making delicious vegetarian meals

NA: A pet peeve?
RM: Characters in historical novels who behave as though they are 21st century men, women and children who have modern attitudes. An extreme example is of a medieval knight in full armor who scaled the walls of a castle to rescue a proverbial maiden in distress. The window was too small for him to enter her chamber, but she asked him. “Would you like a nice cup of coffee?”

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have worn today?
RM: I chose a tatty old T shirt suitable for working in my organic garden.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning.
RM: What will happen in the next scene or chapter?

NA: What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
RM: If he had not left his body, I would like to dine with His Holiness, A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada who founded The International Society of Krishna Consciousness, translated Classical Sanscrit literature and inspired George Harrison.

NA: What are you working on?
RM: Grace, Lady of Cassio, the sequel to Yvonne, Lady of Cassio set in the reign of Edward III.

NA: What is your attitude to writing?
RM: It is extremely hard work which requires dedication and perseverance, but publication of my novels is the reward for so much self-discipline.

Meet Rosemary:

I am a multi-published, best-selling historical novelist.

There is a gigantic canvas for a me to choose from.

My novels are set in the reign of Charles II’s niece, Queen Anne Stuart, who reigned from 1702 to 1714, and the ever-popular Regency era, and in the reign of Edward II’s reign. I chose those periods because they changed the course of history.

The more I read about my chosen eras the more fascinated I become, and the more aware of the gulf between the past and present. Those who lived in the past shared the same emotions as we do, but their attitudes and way of life were in many ways very different to ours. One of the most striking examples was the social position of women and children in in bygone ages.

 The characters in my novels, are of their time, not men, women and children dressed in costume who behave like 21st century people. 

Research of my chosen eras sparks my imagination. The seeds of my novels are sown, and from them sprout the characters and events which will shape their lives.

I was born in Kent. As a child, when I was not making up stories, my head was ‘always in a book.’

While working in a travel agency, I met my Hindu husband. He encouraged me to continue my education at Westminster College.  In 1961 I and my husband, by then a barrister, moved to his birthplace, Kenya, where I lived from 1961 until 1982. After an attempted coup d’état, four of my children lived with me in an ashram in France.

Back in England, I wrote historical fiction, joined the Romantic Novelists’ Association, The Historical Novel Society, Watford Writers, and on-line groups including Facebook.

Apart from writing, I enjoy classical Indian literature, reading, visiting places of historical interest, vegetarian cooking, growing organic fruit, herbs and vegetables and creative crafts. 

Time spent with my five children and their families, most of whom live near me, is precious.

Discover more about Rosemary and her books on her website.

Ghosts of wars past #MFRWHooks

Passionate Destiny

Passionate Destiny by Dee S. Knight

Blurb:

When Margaret Amis-Hollings inherits an old house in Virginia, she never suspects she’d be sharing it with a very loving ghost. Or that her interest would be divided between her spirit lover and the very live man who’s renovating the place. Suddenly her life is intertwined with a soldier from a previous century and with his descendant, Aaron, who has a secret concerning her home. Is it coincidence or the power of a past love that makes her want to share her life—as well as her destiny—with Aaron?

Buy link:

Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:

“What do you mean I’m being cut?” Dr. Margaret Amis-Hollings, professor of women’s studies in the sociology department at Hardis College, shot out of her chair and stared at the dean, Sally Smith, who remained seated.

“Calm down, Margaret.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You just told me that I’ve lost my job.” Pacing, she raked her hand through the tangle of auburn hair that never seemed to stay contained in barrettes. A million things went through her mind, not the least of which was how she would make her rent, her car payment, buy food.

“Oh my God, how am I going to live?” Collapsing in the chair she’d just vaulted out of, she turned to face her friend and boss. Her expression was half despair, half anger, all shock.

“I’m so sorry, Margaret. The board has ordered more budget cuts. It hasn’t been easy. You know how we’ve had to scrimp for the past few years. Now we even have to cull courses we think aren’t serving the full interests of the students.”

“But—but…” Tears choking her throat, she couldn’t at first finish her sentence. “But the women’s studies classes? They’re vital.”

In fact, she had thought the reason for meeting with Sally was to discuss the addition of a new offering: Women Villains. She’d been so proud of the catchy and intriguing title and even had the hook for the course description. “What makes ‘Jane the Ripper,’ and how do her contributing factors differ from Jack’s?” She’d anticipated sharing the materials she’d already prepared, and hearing Sally’s happy response when she revealed the number of students who’d already indicated an interest.

She’d planned for questions of course, but anticipated support and excitement from Sally. The last thing she imagined was being let go.

5 stars! “I’m a huge romance lover and this book reaffirmed my belief of love finding you when you least expect it. A brilliant paranormal romance with plenty of hot interludes. Highly recommend!”—N.N. Light

Author Dee S. Knight:
 A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link to see posts from other authors!

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A very Perilous Love: Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks

Perilous Love by Jan SelbournePerilous Love

Blurb
Barely tolerating each other, Adrian and Gabrielle are trapped in Belgium as the clouds of war loom over Europe. Plunged into a nightmare of lies and betrayal, they flee for their lives as the German forces cross the border. Narrowly evading capture, witnessing death and atrocities, they reach safety as two different people who’ve found deep love. But, the tentacles of treachery have spread to England where Adrian faces charges of treason and a woman who’ll stop at nothing to see him dead.

Buy links

Amazon

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt

The first soft shafts of sunlight woke Adrian. The ground was hard and he was cold. He’d barely slept because of his throbbing foot and he was as thirsty as hell. He hobbled to the canal and drank thirstily then dipped both his feet into the cold water. He let out a slow sigh as the pain eased. Gabrielle knelt at the water’s edge beside him and washed her face and pushed her wet fingers through her hair to slick down the untidy curls.

Her voice was low and angry. ‘What was she like?’

‘What are you talking about?’ He scowled, dreading what was coming.

‘Sigrid, Maryanne, whatever her name was,’ she snapped back.

‘What the hell are you trying to do Gaby? Force an argument?

‘No, I’m not forcing an argument. I really want to know! You preferred that woman’s company to mine and your children’s and because of her and my uncle and your unbelievable stupidity, two innocent people have died, and we are forced to rely on each other to stay alive.  Are you proud of yourself? And was her beauty and obvious bedroom expertise worth all of this?’

Adrian turned his head away, angry and embarrassed.

‘I’m waiting,’ she persisted. I presume you also showered her with gifts and expensive baubles while we would be lucky to see you on our birthdays.’

Something snapped inside him. He’d had enough of her barbs and sarcasm.

Furious, he turned to face her. ‘If I could get up and walk away, I would. Just what are you trying to achieve? We’ve avoided capture by the skin of our teeth, we have no idea how to get away, the Germans are pouring into Belgium, thousands will be killed and you want to know if I showered her with gifts. Why don’t we concentrate on getting out of here and then you will be free of me?  Now for Christ’s sake leave it alone.’

‘You want to get up and walk away?’ her voice dripped scorn. ‘Did I walk away from that lonely, empty life, in that big lonely house? Making excuses to your children, visiting neighbours on my own. Did I show such contempt for my marriage vows?’

‘You forgot to mention entertaining Charlton in my home,’ he snarled and flinched as Gabrielle’s hand slapped his face.

‘Yes, your home.’ Gabrielle yelled. ‘I may have lived there and given birth to your children there, but it was always your home. I pray to God we will return to England and you can enjoy your home with your expensive treacherous harlots!’  Her hands clenched into fists. ‘Yes! Brian did share my bed. You were never there, you couldn’t care less about me or our children, you were so besotted with that German harlot’s devious charms you had no idea what was going on. She was exceptionally clever, and you were exceptionally stupid.

Adrian rubbed his cheek and pointed his finger at her. ‘If you hit me again, you will be sorry. You want to know what she was like. She had long wavy auburn hair, a figure that made men’s eyes water and yes, she had expertise in the bedroom. She could drink me under the table and she could discuss politics like a man. She was exceptionally clever and yes you are right, I was exceptionally stupid, because I hadn’t a clue she was German or she’d bedded a cabinet minister or she’d been on other assignments for your uncle. I hope I’ve answered all your questions and I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not, but I’m bloody ashamed of myself. And I hope to God we’ll get back to England, so you can do whatever you want and I won’t have to listen to your harping sarcastic tongue. Are you happy now?

‘Oh yes, very happy, thank you. Who wouldn’t be, sitting with you on the damp ground beside a canal without food or clean clothes,’ her eyes glittered with contempt, ‘How does it feel that you, a cabinet minister and my uncle shared her? I wonder if she kept an inventory of her jewellery and gifts to remember who gave her what.’

He pulled his feet from the water and stood up. ‘I’m not listening to your ranting, nor am I waiting here for them to find me.’

‘You can’t face the truth, can you?’ she shouted at him. ‘Well, unpleasant as it is, you need me and I need you to survive. When we reach safety, you can go back to the life you enjoyed with your sophisticated women without the inconvenience of an unwanted wife.  And if we get out of here, I don’t want anything from you. Not even a Christmas card.’ Her lip curled.  ‘A gentleman never breaks a business contract, but it’s of no consequence to break your marriage vows.’

Adrian reached down and roughly pulled her up to face him, his eyes black with fury.

‘I can’t face the truth? It’s a pity you didn’t meet and marry that useless fop Charlton eight years ago, because he’d have been the target for your sainted uncle’s lunacy instead of me!  Christ, you haven’t shut up about your miserable marriage but look where it’s got me!  Stitched up like a bloody weaver’s loom, set up as a traitor, hiding like a fugitive. And why?  Because I had the temerity to marry you!’ He turned his back and hobbled over to the grazing horse. ‘I’m leaving, are you coming with me or staying here?’

Gabrielle’s face mirrored the shock she felt at Adrian’s words. Her foot lashed out sending a small log into the water and she walked up to Adrian, her fists clenched, then without warning she burst into tears.

‘I have no choice.’ Her voice was raw with emotion. ‘All I want is to get out of Belgium and go back to my children and never see you again!’

Adrian gripped her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh. ‘You’ll get your bloody freedom one way or the other. If we get out of this, I’ll gladly give it. If I’m shot, you can play the grieving widow for a day or two. Now shut up and help me get this horse into the shafts.’

He heaved himself into the driving seat, knowing damn well they were suffering huge reactions to the events they had witnessed. His insides were ripped apart enough without her rubbing his face in it again and again. How could he have been so bloody naive?  It wouldn’t matter how loudly he protested his innocence, the fact remained his mistress had wheedled far too much information from him and a senior government minister named Edmund. Good God! Sir Edmund Charters! Close to the Prime Minister, related to the Foreign Minister. That old fool must be nearly seventy and you, Bryce, are the biggest fool of them all.

Jan

Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

Contact Jan:
https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne/
https://twitter.com/JanSelbourne
https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/
https://nomadauthors.com/

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