American Revolution – Nomad Authors Blog

Treachery in spades! #MFRWHooks

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

Blurb:
Betrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe does the unthinkable—she escapes her arranged marriage and runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America—the New World. For Sarah, a “new world” of broken promises, abandonment, poverty and shame. Around her, the American Revolution is quickly developing and the siege of Boston worsens by the day. As British soldiers seek out traitors and treason, a desperate Sarah breaks open a safe looking for cash. Instead, she finds a box holding Bank of England documents. Through willpower, bitter determination, and lying through her teeth, Sarah manages to make her way home to England. What she doesn’t know is that two men follow, and they will do anything to claim those documents.

Bank investigator Neil McAlister faces an almost impossible task—to determine the true owner of the documents by deciding who is lying. Most of all, as danger creeps ever closer, he needs to know who wants the secretive, beautiful Sarah dead.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
A voice from behind made her jump. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

Sarah whirled around. “Because…” She didn’t know what to say.

“No one asked? I can barely believe it.”

Feeling stupid and awkward, she remained silent.

“Don’t tell me you can’t dance,” Neil taunted.

“Take care of your bank business and I’ll take care of my shortcomings,” she bit back.

“I can’t take care of my bank business if you won’t allow me to take the documents to London.” he said sharply.

“I told you I want a written assurance of a reward. I know and you know I will never see them again.”

Neil leaned closer. “I told you we can apply to the courts for a warrant to seize them.”

“You will seize a pile of ash.”

“You could go to prison,” Neil replied coldly.

“Really? I should have burned them in Boston to keep warm.” She shrugged. “I believe they are quite genuine, otherwise you wouldn’t be in such a fuss.”

“They must be examined properly. Forgeries are the bank’s biggest headache.”

“If they are genuine, the bank can hold them for Claude Westfield and give me an appropriate reward for bringing them safely to you.”

“You are not shy in demanding money,” Neil said caustically.

“No, I’m not. I rely on my brother for a roof over my head and it—” She broke off as her cheeks flushed. “Go and enjoy yourself and leave me alone.”

As she moved away Neil put his hand on her arm. “There is no need to be unpleasant. If they are genuine, we will discuss it further.”

“Nothing more to discuss,” Sarah’s eyes never left his. “Remove your hand.”

Neil’s face hardened. “You think you hold all the cards, madam, but rest assured, until you are more amenable, you’ll get nothing.”

“Neither will you, sir. Beneath your smooth bank exterior, you are no better than your forebears who loaned their gold at outrageous interest.”

Neil’s fingers dug into her arm. “You are no better than a street hawker yourself.”

“Get your hand off me,” Sarah’s voice rose as she wrenched her arm away. “Leave me alone!”

Neil’s expression changed from irritation to disbelief to shock. “Good God,” he breathed. “It was you.”

About 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.

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The story behind the woman #MFRWHooks

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

The Woman Behind the Mirror

Blurb:
Betrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America—the New World. For Sarah, a new world of broken promises poverty and shame. Around her, the American Revolution is simmering, and the siege of Boston worsens by the day. As British soldiers seek out traitors and treason, a desperate Sarah breaks open a safe looking for cash. Instead, she finds a box holding Bank of England documents. Through willpower, bitter determination, and lying through her teeth, Sarah manages to make her way home to England. What she doesn’t know is that two men follow, and they will do anything to claim those documents.

Buy Links

Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon AU

Available in Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
Sarah watched the door open and her heart almost stopped beating when Neil McAlister and a tall muscular man with a trim goatee beard walked into the room.

Frozen with shock she could only stare at Samuel Fenton. But it wasn’t Samuel Fenton.

Her strangled, “You aren’t,” was cut off when Neil began his introductions and Robert stepped in front of her to shake the man’s hand. She heard her brother’s hearty, “Mr Westfield, I am delighted to meet you. May I introduce my wife Hannah?”

The man put his handkerchief to his mouth and coughed. “Forgive my frog like voice. This wretched cold will not leave me.” He bowed to Hannah. “I am honoured to meet you, Mrs Forsythe.”

Robert took Sarah’s hand and drew her forward “And my sister, Sarah Langford.”

A low bow. “Mrs Langford, I understand you endured much hardship before returning to England. To be told you found and brought my personal papers with you left me speechless. It’s nothing short of a miracle and I cannot adequately express my gratitude.”

Sarah murmured a greeting and lowered her eyes.

Robert cleared his throat. “Mr Westfield, before we begin, allow me to thank you for your generous hospitality.”

“My dear, Mr Forsythe,” the man responded before coughing again into his handkerchief. “It was the very least I could do after such trial and distress.”

Robert picked up the decanter again. “I was about to enjoy your hospitality, sir. May I pour us a glass of wine or perhaps whisky?

“Thank you, a small whisky would be most welcome.” the man replied.

“Neil?”

Neil inclined his head. “I cannot say no. Then if you don’t mind, we will finalise the transaction as discussed.”

“Of course.” No one spoke while Robert poured whisky and handed glasses of wine to Hannah and Sarah. He then held up his glass to the room. “I am very relieved this has been settled amicably.”

“I am extremely relieved.” The man lifted his glass to Sarah. “My compliments.”

Sarah felt the blood pounding through her veins but did not move. Her stomach churned when polite conversation began on London’s expanding population, the dangerous highwaymen robbing innocent travelers, and the sudden sad death of a minor royal.

When the glasses were emptied, Robert stood up and handed the leather folder to the man called Westfield. “A very satisfactory conclusion. My sister has signed the necessary agreement.”

“Thank you, and if I may, I’d like to say a few words.” The man turned to Sarah. “It is indeed a small world, Mrs Langford. I did not think we would meet again after such a tumultuous time in Boston.”

Robert’s brow creased. “Pardon?”

“Mrs Langford and I were acquainted at Griffins club,” the man said smoothly.

Look him directly in the face and do not quail. “I am afraid you are mistaken sir. I do not know you,” Sarah said evenly.

The man inclined his head. “We do look very different in the light of day, but I remember you well in those crowded smoky rooms.”

“What are you talking about?” Robert said sharply.

“I was part owner of Griffins gentlemen’s club. Mrs Langford, known there as Adele, worked as a”—he gestured eloquently—“for want of a better word, hostess.”

Hannah had risen and was staring at her. All of them were staring at her. “Mr Westfield, I am afraid you have me confused with someone else.”

The man’s hard hazel eyes glittered into hers. “No, I’m not confused. Your husband David Langford disappeared leaving a mountain of debts and you destitute. I was with Fenton when he paid the turnkey a shilling to release you from the cells. It was work for him or die on the streets. You were one of three women employed to pour drinks and keep our clients gambling and satisfied in the clubrooms and”—he paused—“upstairs.”

A pin dropping would have sounded like gunpowder exploding.

Sarah did not move. “Mr McAlister, I am appalled you willingly brought this man here to insult me.”

As if snapping out of a trance Neil stepped forward. “I am at a loss, Westfield. Not once in our discussions at the bank did you say you knew Mrs Langford.”

Claude’s eyes never left Sarah’s. “You didn’t ask, and the purpose of this meeting was for me to collect my personal papers.” He sighed. “While it pains me to reward a whore for stealing, I will honour the agreement.”

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Who knows what a woman can do? Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks

The Woman Behind the Mirror

Blurb –
Betrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe does the unthinkable—she runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America—the New World. For Sarah, a “new world” of broken promises, abandonment, poverty and shame. Around her, the American Revolution is simmering, and the siege of Boston worsens by the day. As British soldiers seek out traitors and treason, a desperate Sarah breaks open a safe looking for cash. Instead, she finds a box holding Bank of England documents. Through willpower, bitter determination, and lying through her teeth, Sarah manages to make her way home to England. What she doesn’t know is that two men follow, and they will do anything to claim those documents.

Buy link
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt –
When the early dusk gave way to night, she cut her hair to above her shoulders. Dressed in grubby men’s breeches, a thick quilted coat and cloak she’d bought from a street hawker, her cropped hair pushed under a black hat and a knife in her pocket, she walked past the front entrance, looked around and hurried down the lane to the rear of the building. Stepping over rubble and filth she moved closer to the back door and almost sagged with relief. The cover over the coal chute had not been sealed. Crouching down, she pulled the metal ring and pulled again but it wouldn’t budge. Forcing down the urge to scream and kick, she pulled again. With a harsh scraping of wood against wood it lifted, and she dropped into the black hole. Hitting the pile of coal with a thud, she lay still listening, then crept into the empty kitchen and the hall. A glance behind her and she sprinted up the staircase to Samuel Fenton’s private quarters.

It was as she expected, dark and stripped of all furniture, so she felt her way along the wall until a hand covered her mouth. Her heart thudded with shock then she bit down hard. The grip loosened and she kicked back behind her. Two strong hands swung her around and jammed her face into the wall.

“Move and I’ll cut your throat,” a muffled voice hissed in her ear.

Sarah tried to kick back again but he dodged to one side and threw her to the floor. Winded and terrified she flinched when his knife pressed against her throat.

“Who are you? Answer me!”

“Please,” she begged. “Let me go and I’ll not look back.”

A sharp intake of air. “A woman?”

Sarah was pulled up to face a man shrouded in black and with a scarf covering the lower part of his face.

“Let me go!” she yelled but his grip tightened and now frightened for her life she fought back. Her fingernails clawed at his eyes and when he jerked away her boot lashed into his shin bone. Swearing furiously, he kicked her feet from under her and she landed heavily on the floor.

“Bitch,” he snarled. “If you were a man, you’d be dead.” Within seconds he was gone.

Shaking uncontrollably, Sarah backed into a corner and curled into a ball until the cold and the terrible silence became unbearable. You are so close, and you can’t lie here forever.

Lifting her head, she peered into the dark room before crawling to the alcove where the mahogany desk had stood. Inch by inch, she felt along the floorboards until she found the join. Her fingers moved forward until they found the second join and pushed down. It didn’t move. Stifling a sob, she willed herself to remember the night two men had challenged each other to a duel. She’d burst into this room to find Samuel Fenton on his knees placing a box into the hole. He’d swiftly covered it, spluttering something about dropping his snuff box. She hadn’t so much as glanced at the floor, instead she’d pointed to the salon shouting, “Quick, they’ll kill each other.” Now, she had no idea how to open the hidey-hole.

God, it was so dark she couldn’t see a damn thing. Gritting her teeth, Sarah felt the floorboards again. No keyhole. Her eyes closed in despair, why didn’t she bring a hatpin or… Her eyes flew open. Idiot, the knife!

Keeping one finger on the join, she fumbled for the knife in her pocket and pushed it into the crack. Nothing. “Please, please,” she begged silently and dug the knife into the other join. A soft click. Now what do I do? Her fingers gently pushed again, and the other end lifted. Every nerve in her body was screaming to get out now as she lifted the box from its hiding place. Something else was beneath it.

Her fingers probed and picked up a slim leather folder when a noise outside made her freeze. Dear God, he was coming back. Then it went silent. Most likely an alley cat. She pushed the folder into the pocket of her cloak, clutched the box to her chest and, heart pounding loud enough to hear a mile away, she crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. Across the flagstones to the coal chute. “Oh no,” she whispered. There was nothing to help her climb out. Defeated, she slumped down to the floor and put her head in her hands.

It was a scraping noise that roused her. Most likely a tree branch against a window, but wait, how did that brute get in and out? Gripping the knife, she walked beside the walls, touching each boarded window and door and then stopped to listen. Back to the privy where chamber pots were emptied into the sewer outside. The small door was open, its rusty hinges squeaking. Dropping to the floor she crawled through the gap, stepped over the foul-smelling drain and was about to run when a figure loomed in front of her.

Hard hands grabbed her shoulders. “What were you doing in there?”

“Nothing, get away, get away from me!” Jerking away, the box slipped from her grasp and hit the ground with a clatter.

The man grabbed her again. “Slut, answer me or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

Blindly Sarah lashed out at him and her breath caught in her throat when he gave a sickening whoop and staggered backwards to collapse onto the cobblestones.

Oh, dear God. In her panic to get out she’d forgotten the knife in her hand. Her legs were turning to water, she couldn’t move, then a shout from the road.

“What goes on there?” Two night watchmen with lanterns were turning into the lane. Dragging air into her lungs, she picked up the box and fled.

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Hurry!! The Woman Behind the Mirror–99 Cents, only for a short time!!

For the next three days (April 16-18), award-winning historical fiction writer, Jan Selbourne, is offering her newest book. The Woman Behind the Mirror for 99 cents on Amazon! That’s a real bargain for a book you’re sure to love! In fact, it’s my current favorite Jan book. 😉

You might know, Jan’s Lies of Gold won Coffee Pot Book Club’s Silver Award for 2019. With The Woman Behind the Mirror, I see more awards in her future. At any rate, that’s the future and Jan writes about history. The Woman Behind the Mirror starts in 1775 England, but quickly shifts to Boston where the American Revolution is rumbling into being. What happens to Sarah Forsythe has to be read to be believed!

Blurb

Betrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe does the unthinkable—she escapes her arranged marriage and runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America—the New World. For Sarah, a “new world” of broken promises, abandonment, poverty and shame. Around her, the American Revolution is quickly developing and the siege of Boston worsens by the day. As British soldiers seek out traitors and treason, a desperate Sarah breaks open a safe looking for cash. Instead, she finds a box holding Bank of England documents. Through willpower, bitter determination, and lying through her teeth, Sarah manages to make her way home to England. What she doesn’t know is that two men follow, and they will do anything to claim those documents.

Excerpt

Legs shaking, Sarah walked downstairs to face her furious father and white-faced mother.

“I cannot believe your wilfulness, your complete lack of propriety,” her father said icily. “You deliberately encouraged”—he frowned at her mother—“what was his name?”

“David Langford.”

“You encouraged this penniless nobody behind my back, knowing I have approved and accepted Mr Gerald Whitehead’s offer of marriage.”

“Papa, Mr Whitehead is over forty years old!”

“A mature man of independent means with homes in Norfolk and London. Now sadly widowed, he needs the comfort of a wife and mother to his children.”

Sarah’s fingers clenched. “His children are almost my age.”

Her mother spoke. “Albert dear, I do think Sarah and Mr Whitehead should be given more time to become better acquainted.”

Her father pointed his finger at her mother. “I hold you responsible for giving the girl far too much freedom. I can only pray Mr Whitehead does not hear of this shameful cavorting while he’s attending to business affairs.”

“I was not cavorting with David,” Sarah said hotly. “We met at the church fair when mama presented prizes for the best puddings. We were never alone, not even when Eliza and I showed David and Freddie the country dances because the Methodists don’t approve.”

Her father’s eyes had turned slate grey, filling her with fear.

“I am sorry papa. I will do whatever you bid.” She held her breath waiting for a hand across her face or worse.

“You will not leave this house until the banns are read.” Albert Forsythe strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Her mother touched her arm. “You have made papa very angry.”

Sarah’s eyes met her mothers. “If he beats me again, I will leave, David or no David.”

“Sarah! You are under-age and cannot defy papa. You know it is his fervent wish to see you and your brothers well set up.”

“You mean Peter’s commission and Robert’s year in London will cost papa a lot of money. Mr Whitehead’s offer of marriage relieves him of more financial burden.”

Her mother’s mouth fell open. “That is a dreadful thing to say.”

“Mama, please, Mr Whitehead is ugly, and I cannot bear him near me.”

“Your father will provide a generous dowry,” her mother said quietly. “Do not defy him or we all suffer.”

“Yes mama, excuse me mama,” Sarah’s eyes blurred as she climbed the stairs again to her bedchamber. Closing the door, she sat at her dressing table and as she stared at her reflection her resolve grew. A glance at the closed door and she sharpened a quill and began to write. Signing the note S, she rang for her maid.

“Go to the Methodist manse. This letter must be handed to Mr David Langford and no one else.”

“Yes miss. I will, miss.”

Sarah put two shillings in her hand. “Not a word to anyone and you may have the rest of the day off.”

The maid blinked at half a week’s pay in her hand. “Thank you miss.”

When the door closed, Sarah’s knees turned to water. They’d talked about it, they’d held hands while declaring their love for each other, and now it was a frightening reality. She sat by the window as the minutes turned into one hour, then another hour and then her heart thudded in her chest. David, wearing a cloak and hat pulled low over his forehead rode past the front gates and placed a small sprig of leaves on the railing. He’d received her message.

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.

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com/JanSelbourne/index.html
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/JanSelbourne
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14661584.Jan_Selbourne?from_search=true
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jan-Selbourne/e/B0184OSZ6E/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/

NEW! The Woman Behind the Mirror by Jan Selbourne

A shining STAR out of a constellation of 5-star books!

Book: The Woman Behind the Mirror
Author: Jan Selbourne
Release date: Feb 17, 2020

Buy links: EBook Kindle Unlimited
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon AUS
Universal link

Price: $2.99
Pages: 360

Excerpt:
Legs shaking, Sarah walked downstairs to face her furious father and white-faced mother.