Tag: historical

Charity Sunday: Caldwell Institute for Public Safety

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!

I’d like to highlight a brand new charity this month, the Caldwell Institute for Public Safety

The institute was founded by Gianno Caldwell who has personal experience with crime and how it affects communities. His brother was shot and killed in Chicago two years ago. Chicago is a city I love and the crime rate in the city breaks my heart. Hopefully, Gianno’s new organization will make a difference in Chicago and every other city in the country where crime is a major issue.

“The Caldwell Institute for Public Safety is … dedicated to ensuring a justice system that prioritizes the safety and security of all law-abiding citizens by strategically supporting anti-crime candidates, advocating for legislation that makes communities safer, and providing comprehensive support services for victims of violent crime. We aim to create and foster solutions that effectively combat crime, support law enforcement, and uphold the principles of fairness and justice for every American.” Please comment and I will send a donation to the Institute. Thank you!

Blurb:

As family wage earner and pawn shop manager, Evelyn Collins thinks she’s kept a good watch on everything in her corner of the world. That is, until Harve Liddell, son of a local crime family, and Detective Joshua Rosen step up to show her just how much she’s missed.

Evelyn Collins inherits the family pawn shop and thinks things are starting to change for the better. Now, if she could keep her younger brother out of trouble, and handle two surprising suitors, things would be great.

Harve Liddell suffers from the reputation of his family’s involvement in organized crime, but Evvie Collins has always treated him as a friend. Far from friendship, he wants to set her blood afire with passion. When Harve’s ready to move, he finds Detective Joshua Rosen is, too.

For years Josh Rosen has wanted Evelyn in his bed, but stayed away because Jews were second class citizens in Minneapolis. He’s no longer willing to wait. The only thing blocking him is Harve Liddell, and the trouble Josh is sure he’s embroiled Evelyn’s brother in. He must find a way to trap Liddell without causing Evelyn pain before he can claim her.

Buy link:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Unlikely-Bedfellows-Publishing-Menage-Everlasting-ebook/dp/B009HA6D9Q/

Excerpt:
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go in and have a drink. Our dinner reservations aren’t for half an hour yet.”

The valet opened Evelyn’s door and extended his hand to help her out. Then Joshua was at her side. He slid his arm around her waist and led her inside.

At a desk near the front door, a man in black tie looked up. “Rosen,” Joshua said. “We have reservations for eight, and we’ll be in the bar.”

“I’ll let you know when your table is ready.”

“Thank you.” Joshua guided her to the right, into a room lighted with candles and low illumination from wall sconces. The only point in the room with decent lighting was behind the bar, where two men busily mixed drinks for the many people seated at the oak bar and tables scattered across the floor. Joshua pointed out an empty booth against the far wall. “If you’ll wait there, I’ll order for us. What will you have?”

Evelyn rarely drank, but this evening’s adventure called for something celebratory. Her dad drank whiskey, but that was too strong for her. “A screwdriver, please.”

He nodded and turned to the bar.

The walls were a mosaic of the cities’ skylines, done in silver against black—sleek but comfortable somehow. A stage and dance floor were at the far end of the room. She didn’t realize Harve offered dancing, too, and live performances. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never come to his restaurant. It was far too pricey for her, but now that she saw the place, she realized that it said a great deal about him. Sleek and modern. Relaxed and comfortable. Efficient yet personalized. So many contrasts all rolled into one establishment, into one man.

She looked around. People were having a good time, laughing, talking. Drinks and cigarettes were in handy supply. She almost wished she smoked so she’d have something to do with her hands. Then Joshua came and slid in beside her. Taking one of her hands and thus ending her dilemma, he rested their hands on her thigh.

“The waitress will be here in a minute with our drinks.” He looked around, too. “What do you think of the place?”

“I like it. It’s relaxed and yet modern. I’m not sure how Harve pulled it off.”

“Yeah, old Harve is a real wunderkind.”

The thick sarcasm threw her for a minute, and then she laughed. “You two are like oil and water. Is there anything you agree on?”

He faced her. His black eyes glittered like polished onyx. She blushed under the intensity of his stare, but she couldn’t turn away. His hand tightened over hers, and he rubbed the backs of his knuckles on her dress, at her thigh.

“I’m pretty sure there’s one thing.”

“Your drinks, sir.” The waitress bent low, showing off a generous cleavage. To Evelyn’s surprise, Joshua seemed not to notice. He tipped the woman, handed Evelyn her drink, and focused on her once again.

“To many more evenings,” he said.

“I’ll go along with that,” she replied. The vodka burned on the way down, but the orange juice sweetened the sip. Her second taste was smoother, and the third, downright refreshing.

“What happened to that pin you had in the case yesterday?” Joshua asked.

The alcohol spun through her system, made her settle into the soft leather banquette seat and feel warm all over. “What pin?”

“The one in the front display case. The circular one with the stones set into it. It wasn’t there when I stopped by earlier today, and I just wondered if the owner came back for it.”

Evelyn took another sip and then examined her glass. It was nearly empty. How had that happened? She blinked and focused on Joshua. “Circular stones pinned in my display case?”

Joshua smiled and removed her glass. “You don’t drink very often, do you?”

She plopped her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm. “Nope. Maybe if I had a friend to drink with.”

“I’ll be your friend, Evelyn,” Joshua said quietly.

She swiveled her chin in her palm and squinted at him. “I like that, Joshmea.”

He brushed a tendril of hair from the corner of her mouth to behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful, Evelyn.”

She started to giggle. Good God! When had she ever giggled? No one with brass balls giggles. And she giggled again.“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Oh, Joshea, I’m just avmerage. You are handsome, though. You and Harve both, just damned handsome.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops! I said damn.”

Joshua started laughing. “Wow. You’re in trouble. Shall I go and find some soap?” He looked over her shoulder and then nodded at someone. “Our table’s ready. Are you able to walk, Evelyn?”

She sat up straight and waved her hand. “Oh sure. I learned how to walk a long time ago.” He laughed again. What had she said that was so funny?

She scooted to the edge of the banquette, but somehow her legs didn’t obey the command to stand. Joshua held out his hand, the sweetheart, and she grabbed hold. Rising to her feet, she wobbled in her heels for a second or two and then steadied herself. How far was it to their table? She’d stay on her feet if it killed her. With great confidence, she stepped off.

And fell flat on her ass.

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! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

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

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Far away, far from home #MFRWHooks

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

Desire Me Again anthologyBlurb:
A Convict’s Prayer in Desire Me Again
Famine, disease, poverty and crime dominates 19th century Ireland, and Eleanor Craddock is just one of the thousands convicted of stealing to survive. However, it is her brother Thomas’s treachery that sentences her to transportation to Van Diemen’s Land (now Tasmania, Australia) for fourteen years. The only thing that keeps Eleanor going is her prayer that one day she will earn her ticket of leave, because only then can she apply for her two children to join her on the free emigration scheme. This prayer is sorely tested during the long 13,000-mile journey on the convict ship Hope, the brutal Hobart Cascades Female Factory and her years as an assigned servant to the wealthy Ian Franks. Richard Barnett, horse trainer for Franks finds it almost impossible to break through Eleanor’s hard defensive wall until a theft of important documents. This is a true story of two people finding love again.

Buy link:
Amazon US

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
December 1841
Loughrea Quarter Sessions
Galway, Ireland.

The clock above the magistrate’s bench ticked closer to three o’clock and the witnesses for the tenth case of the day had given their evidence. Voices in the crowded courtroom grew louder when a frightened fair-haired woman wearing a stained brown dress was led across the floor to the witness box.

Scowling, the magistrate rapped out, “Silence!”

The Clerk of the Peace placed documents in front of him and the room went quiet.

“You are Eleanor Craddock, of Ballinasloe, in the county of Galway, widow of James Stanford?”

“Yes, your honour.”

“You have been charged with receiving ten sovereigns from the child Mary Ward. That you and your brother Thomas Craddock corruptly influenced Mary Ward to steal the box holding twenty-seven pounds from her grandparents, Laurence Ward and Margaret Ward.”

Eleanor’s sweating hands gripped the front of the witness box.

“That you abandoned your two children, Richard Stanford and James Stanford while you and your brother conspired to steal this money,” the magistrate continued.

Eleanor shook her head. “No! I did not abandon them sir. I’m a widow without money or support. They were taken in by their grandmother while I walked from Ballinasloe to Kilconnell to beg help from my brother.”

The magistrate’s cold eyes met hers. “We have heard sworn evidence from Margaret Ward and Laurence Ward that”, he squinted at the document in front of him, “they had by care and industry saved a sum of twenty seven pounds in sovereigns and guineas, and that the box was in their house, under lock and key. That you and Thomas Craddock convinced their granddaughter Mary Ward with false promises to steal the key and open it. That Thomas Craddock instructed Mary to give you ten sovereigns and you received those sovereigns for your own dishonest gain. How do you plead?  Guilty or not guilty?”

The courtroom swam before Eleanor’s eyes.  “Guilty, sir.”

A Convict's Prayer by Jan Selbourne

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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A spy in the making? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Perilous Love by Jan SelbournePerilous Love
Blurb
Europe is on the brink of the First World War. Gabrielle and Adrian, their marriage on the rocks, are thrust into a world of territory lies and deceit. Not knowing who to trust, they find themselves fleeing for their lives across war torn Europe, the brutal German forces are hot on their heels, determined not to let them escape. Adrian is between the devil and the deep blue sea as he’s accused of treason and doesn’t know what awaits him back in England. All he does know is he must reunite his family safely back in England. Will this mend their broken marriage or tear them apart forever? The odds are stacked against their survival. Will they have what it takes to overcome obstacles?

Buy Links
Amazon
B&N
Goodreads

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt
Adrian Bryce nodded to the doorman of Number 2, Whitehall Court, Westminster and walked briskly towards the waiting car.  While not handsome in the classical sense, his immaculate attire, bearing and manner was one of wealth, authority and confidence.  He was a man who gives orders, never receives them.  His dark eyes set in an angular face barely concealed his anger and worry.  He knew, along with everyone else with a brain, that war was looming in Europe.  Since the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, rumours and intrigue and political double talk had been flying through Britain and the Continent.

Now, because of his family connections in Europe, he’d been ordered to accompany his wife and children on their annual visit to her stifling Belgian relatives who’d never emerged from the Victorian era.  It did not matter to the men at Whitehall Court that he and his plain boring wife of eight years, the mother of his plain, boring children, had lived separate lives for five years.  His wife was related to aristocratic families both here and in Europe and had been introduced to him at a diplomatic reception and as both were expected to marry well, he thought it a good match at the time.  However, their honeymoon proved they had nothing in common except for them to do their duty and produce children.  For the last five years they’d rarely spent time together except for the annual Christmas rituals and the children’s birthdays.  He preferred his townhouse in London, she and the children lived at their country home in Kent.

As the car turned in the direction of the small elegant lodgings in Bruton Street, his mind and body were anticipating what would be waiting for him.  Beautiful, voluptuous, passionate, pleasing Maryanne, Christ he was becoming hard thinking about her.  He couldn’t wait to push his head between her magnificent breasts and soak in her body.  He’d enjoyed the charms of several women but never before had he experienced anything like the heat and passion that Maryanne gave.  She was expensive, but she was worth every penny he spent on her.

Stepping out of the car, he told the driver not to wait, opened the ornate door and strode up the thickly carpeted staircase and into the beautifully furnished rooms.

‘Adrian, my darling,’ she put out her hands to him. ‘You have kept me waiting, you dreadful man.’  The beautiful, auburn haired woman pouted playfully then smiled, highlighting her high cheekbones and tawny eyes.  Her husky accent inflamed his lust even more and he pulled her to him.  She mouthed ‘wait’, dropped her loose robe to the floor, and then her warm breath was against his ear.

‘Darling, I cannot wait a minute longer.’ Taking his hand, she led him to the adjoining bedroom.  Neither wanted foreplay, both desperately wanted release and it came quickly.  Collapsing on the pillows, they smiled at each other.

‘Why do you keep me waiting?’ she tickled his chest.  ‘Your note tells me one time and you arrive at another.  Is there another woman you prefer to me?’

‘I wouldn’t have the strength,’ he chuckled.  ‘I was delayed at a rather important meeting.  I’m now obliged to travel to Brussels, my sweet.  Will you miss me?’

‘Brussels?  Why must you go away?’ She stroked his cheek.  ‘I will be alone and so hot thinking of you.’

‘Family duty.  I must accompany my wife to visit her relatives.’  He wanted to tell her more.  She was intelligent and her conversation refreshingly different from the polished, elegant, brittle women of his class. But he couldn’t, the real reason was classified.  He shrugged.  ‘Some of my investments in Belgium and France need my personal attention.’

‘You have so many investments.  You will be away from me forever,’ she sulked.

‘I know what I’ll be thinking of while I’m away.  Tell me where you were born. France or Belgium?’

‘On the border, I do not have happy memories.  I have told you all this, my papa was German.  He lost all his money and disappeared.  My mother struggled to feed and clothe us. Not one of his horrible family cared about us.  I hated them all,’ she pushed his fingers into her moist folds.  ‘Why are you accompanying your wife?  You never accompany her anywhere.  Don’t you love me anymore?’

He watched her eyes glaze with pleasure as his fingers pushed deeper into her wetness.  His lips touched her nipples and he felt her hips grinding against him.  Then she cried out and clutched at him as her body shuddered with its shattering climax.

‘Mon Dieu, je vous adore,’ she whispered and moved down his body to his painfully swollen organ.  Her lips enclosed him, her tongue drove him up and up and he was lost.

God Almighty, she gave as good as she got every time.  Slowly opening his eyes, he ran his fingers through her auburn hair, ‘Not love you?   Christ, I can’t get enough of you.’

‘Darling, let me get up so we may drink some wine.’

He lay back on the huge pillows and watched her naked body move to the bottle and crystal glasses waiting on the dressing table.  She was beautiful.

‘Who is so important you must visit in Brussels all of a sudden?’ She pouted crossly and handed a glass to him.

‘The Comte de Meyvier, the patriarch of Gabrielle’s Belgian family. She spent a lot of her childhood in Belgium,  I can’t stand him and I’ve avoided most family occasions for years but I’m afraid I must go this time,’ he savoured the wine on his tongue and gestured for her to refill his glass.  ‘He has a lot of influence in banking and commerce.’

***

An hour later he looked at his watch and at Maryanne.  ‘I must leave, my sweet.’

Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘Will you think of me?’

‘Think of you?  I won’t think of anything else. I’ll send you notes and will inform you when I’m due to return.’  He pushed a little packet into her hands.  ‘Don’t even think of looking at another man.’

Adrian walked back towards his club with a small smile on his face.  Maryanne had been his mistress for three months and he was besotted with her.  She instinctively knew what he wanted as soon as he walked in her door, whether it be passionate sex or to talk over a bottle of wine.  His mind drifted back three months to that overcrowded reception for German and French industrialists.  He’d turned and bumped into her standing behind him.  She’d smiled at his profuse apologies and said she’d forgive him if he fetched her a glass of champagne.  The next morning, he sent her a note with a posy of flowers asking permission to call on her.

A week later she was installed in the small but comfortable townhouse.  Many times since then, she’d asked him if he loved her and he always assured her he did.  But he didn’t.  He couldn’t remember loving any woman.  Obsessed with lust over her, yes, but actually in love?  No.  And he would never fall into that trap.  His satisfied smile disappeared. The meeting today had worried him intensely.  Like it or not, he must travel to Brussels immediately.

***

Maryanne waited until she heard the front door close before opening the packet.  A diamond and pearl necklace twinkled up at her.  She kissed it lightly, murmuring in German how beautiful it was, then sat down and pulled the perfumed notepaper and pen towards her.

Thanks for reading!
Jan
https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne/
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https://www.linkedin.com/in/jan-selbourne-2817b6140/
https://nomadauthors.com/

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Spies, lies, and lovely 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 Selbourne

Lies of Gold–Winner of Silver for Best Historical Book 2019 (Coffee Pot Book Club)

Blurb:
Silent, ruthless, protected by an unknown ally in Whitehall, he smuggles gold across the Channel to Napoleon Bonaparte. When flimsy evidence points to the Essex coast, three men are given secret orders to find the traitor. One of those men, Julian Ashford, has his life transformed into debts and disgrace and sent back to Halton Hall, and Katherine the woman he loved and lost. What Julian discovers within the walls of his ancestral home is much deeper and more sinister than he thought possible, but nothing could prepare him for the betrayal when he finally faces the mastermind behind this sordid operation.

Best Historical Book Silver medalBuy links:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/s?k=lies+of+gold+jan+selbourne&crid=ZPCFE9GJ8D80&sprefix=lies+of+gold+%2Caps%2C351&ref=nb_sb_ss_ac-a-p_1_13

Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lies-of-gold-jan-selbourne/1126283045?ean=9781945146268

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35084198-lies-of-gold?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=gHqpV4JA7O&rank=1

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
Major Julian Ashford’ looked up at the yellowing plaster ceiling and down to the clock above the mantelpiece. Thirty minutes ago, he’d entered the cluster of buildings under the control of The Secretary of State for War and walked up one flight of stairs to the office of Brigadier Sir Ian MacDonald. A corporal had pointed to a wooden bench and the clock continued to tick. Julian drew a deep breath and studied his boots.

When MacDonald finally turned around, the full force of the old soldier’s legendary temper hit him like a brick. The furious tirade continued until MacDonald stopped for breath and picked up a sheet of paper.

“Now this,” the offending item was flapped in Julian’s face. “You were drunk at a respectable gaming establishment and damn near killed a Spanish diplomat, a Spanish nobleman no less. With Napoleon Bonaparte mobilizing again and Europe on edge I cannot believe your utter stupidity.”

Julian glared at the man who had always reminded him of a powerful lion. Large and muscular with a mane of iron grey hair and fierce eyes that never wavered from their prey.

“Who claimed I nearly killed a Spanish diplomat?”

“His aide, you threatened him as well.”

Julian shrugged and looked at the floor. “The Spaniard was cheating at cards.  I demanded to see his hand, he refused so I challenged him to go outside for satisfaction.”

“You broke his nose and three ribs and knocked him senseless,” MacDonald’s fist slammed into the desk. “I am thoroughly ashamed of you. Your debts go back over twelve months and now the Jews refuse you credit. One damned scandal after the other. I’m told you had sex with Rutherford’s wife in her sitting room while he was upstairs playing cards!”

“Rutherford’s wife was more than willing. What would you have done? Refuse the lady?” Julian scowled at the Brigadier. “Who fed that juicy snippet into your waiting ears?”

“I will not tolerate your insolence, sir! You are a disgrace to your regiment.”

“I’m no longer in the regiment,” Julian snapped. “Don’t prose on about it.”

MacDonald’s face turned dark red. “You deserve to rot in a cell,” he picked up a thick folder. “Your service records. The only reason I am begging their Lordships’ indulgence to keep you out of Newgate. I have decided you will return to Halton Hall and remain there until the Spaniard recovers and your string of scandals die down,” he glowered at Julian. “For your sake, I hope the Spaniard recovers.”

Julian thumped his fist on MacDonald’s desk. “I will not return to Halton Hall.”

“It is your ancestral home and nobody else would want you.”

“I don’t care if it’s the home of my ancestors nor do I care if the late Earl of Ballingford and the moronic Honourable Martin Ashford are my cousins, I will not return there. Nor can you make me.”

MacDonald’s cold eyes met Julian’s. “I can and I am. Your family name and my influence stand between you and a long stretch behind bars or seven years in the New South Wales penal colony.” MacDonald’s eyebrows rose. “Why so reluctant?  Ballingford’s dead. His brother is now in residence as guardian of the children and estates until the young Earl reaches his majority. I have dispatched a letter to Martin Ashford, I don’t expect him to refuse me.”

“You’ve already told Martin?” Julian exploded. “Have I no choice in this matter?”

“No, unless you want me to personally deliver you to the prison’s welcoming arms.” MacDonald glared irritably at the corporal and clerk behind him. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Their eyes darted between MacDonald and Julian. “You told us to wait, Brigadier,” the corporal stammered.

“Well, get out.”

“Yes, off you go gentlemen,” Julian sneered. “I am having a small wager with myself on how long it will take for you to spread this new morsel around Town. Forty-eight hours? You’ll put the gossipy washerwomen to shame.”

MacDonald returned to his desk. “Get out of my sight, Major Ashford. I’ve washed my hands of you.” He waited until they were alone before speaking softly “Take great care, Julian. Don’t let your guard down for a minute.”

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.

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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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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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.

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

The Woman Behind the Mirror

Blurb –
The Woman Behind the Mirror by Jan SelbourneBetrothed 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.

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

MFRW Book Hooks

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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A mysterious proposition—Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks

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

The Proposition by Jan Selbourne

The Proposition
Blurb:
They met on the eve of a battle. One enlisted to avoid prison, the other enlisted to avoid the money lenders. On the bloodied fields of France, Harry Connelly collapses beside the corpse of Andrew Conroy. It is a risk, a hanging offence, it’s his only hope for a future. Harry swaps identity discs.

Now Andrew, he is just another face in post war London until a letter arrives with a proposition. Accepting is out of the question, refusing pushes him into a nightmare of greed, blackmail and murder. To survive he must live this lie without a mistake, until Lacey, her secrets and the truth.

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt:
“Excuse me, call of nature.”

The niggling coil of unease had been growing and now, as Andrew watched the dining room door close behind Elliot, his instincts were jabbing at hm. His host had been charming and hospitable. Last night, after a delicious dinner at Browns Hotel, they’d touched on their family connection, unsure of what to say without offending the other. Elliot had twirled his glass between his fingers. “My grandparents made a lot of money from the textile industry, my father sold seventy percent of those businesses and invested in other profitable enterprises. To put it simply, he was a very astute, successful businessman, but I’m afraid he was not a good husband and father. He cared little for us and it distresses me that he cared even less for you and your mother.”

Today, Elliot had proudly introduced him to his pride and joy, a dark grey Austin-20hp, motoring smoothly out of London and onto the soft Essex countryside. When they’d stopped at Thaxted’s Swan Inn for lunch, Elliot had commented, “Every spare acre in Essex has been growing vegetables, doing their bit for the war effort and rationing.” When they continued on to Saffron Walden, he’d pointed to his left, “Railway station, a branch line from Audley End. Made a big difference to this town.”

They’d stopped briefly in High Street, then through the marketplace, bumping over cobblestones to a wider road and finally stopping at the entrance of a large Victorian house. He’d been shown to his room overlooking the rear of the house with its garden rows of vegetables. Elliot had apologized again, business to attend to and please make himself at home. Not used to the substantial meals, he’d slept until five pm. At seven pm, he’d joined Elliot in the dining room where silver serving dishes containing roast beef, baked potatoes and green vegetables sat on spirit warmers.

“Very informal this evening,” Elliot had said breezily. “I asked my daily help to prepare something easy for us, so please, help yourself.”

The only time his host’s friendliness disappeared was when the daily help tapped on the door to tell him she’d answered the phone and left the message on the phone pad.

Something was very wrong, or perhaps he was too jumpy from living on this tight rope of lies. The door opened again.

“Much more comfortable,” Elliot grinned and sat down. “More wine?”

“No thank you, I might not be able to climb the stairs, but I must thank you for another very pleasant evening.”

Elliot’s grin disappeared. “It’s time to discuss the business proposition which will give us both what we want.”

“I confess I was intrigued when I received your letter,” Andrew replied guardedly.

“You will perform a service and if that service is completed satisfactorily, I will pay you three hundred pounds and pay your outstanding debts.”

Andrew went perfectly still. “Perform a service?”

“You will impregnate the woman I married.”

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:
Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn

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Cover Reveal! Invincible Dreams: Denise Devine

Invincible Dreams anthology: Denise Devine

Boxed set: Invincible Dreams
Participating Authors:
Tamara Ferguson
Jen Talty
Denise Devine
Natalie Ann
Stacy Eaton
Nancy Radke
Jennifer St. Giles
Suzanne Jenkins

INVINCIBLE DREAMS – 99 cents on Kindle and available on KU. Pre-order now!

EIGHT STORIES (3 new) From USA Today Bestselling, Award-Winning Authors!

Freedom has a price, and sometimes the past and present collide. Our heroines are determined to reach the goals they’ve set for themselves and fight for their dreams to come true. It might require them to start over, forge a new path, or even change directions along the way. Sometimes they might get more than they’ve bargained for…

RESTORATION (New): Tamara Ferguson, USA Today Bestselling Author
AFTER THE FIRE (New): Jen Talty, USA Today Bestselling Author
GUARDING THE BOOTLEGGER’S WIDOW (New): Denise Devine, USA Today Bestselling Author
ALL THE WAY: Natalie Ann, USA Today Bestselling Author
YOU’RE NOT ALONE: Stacy Eaton, USA Today Bestselling Author
THE SUNNIEST GAL FROM TENNESSEE: Nancy Radke, USA Today Bestselling Author
THE MISTRESS OF TREVELYAN: Jennifer St. Giles, USA Today Bestselling Author
FRIENDS TO LOVERS: Suzanne Jenkins, USA Today Bestselling Author

Blurb for Denise Devine’s story, Guarding the Bootlegger’s Widow:

It’s 1926 in St. Paul, Minnesota and Prohibition is in full swing. A woman can vote, work full time, show her legs in public and cut her hair but she can’t enter a speakeasy without a man by her side…

Charlotte LeDoux is struggling to pick up the pieces of her shattered life. Her late husband, Gus, has left her a lot to deal with—his sprawling business empire, his enemies and an ex-mistress who desperately needs a friend. It’s tough for a woman to compete in a man’s world and even though it’s a never-ending uphill battle, she is determined to succeed.

Char gets a new Model T and is excited when William Van Elsberg offers to give her a driving lesson. She’s attracted to the handsome private detective, who, in many ways, is the polar opposite of Gus. Will takes her out for a spin in the car and instructs her how to drive, but at the same time, teaches her how to love again. She’s never been so happy!

Meanwhile, Gus’ enemies are circling like vultures. An anonymous note threatening Char’s life forces Will to become her personal bodyguard. He’s highly qualified, but Char’s stubborn belief in her own independence makes it the most difficult job he’s ever taken. Can he keep her safe or will he lose her in the most dangerous fight of her life?

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B088C3L5JD

Excerpt:
Prologue

According to the gossip on the streets of St. Paul, my late husband was a man of many secrets. One of the most widely spread stories I found intriguing, but also amusing, involved a secluded hideout where he supposedly had a wall literally lined with stacks of cash. If he did, Gus had taken this information to the grave because he’d never shared it with me.

Gus had been a bootlegger who’d made his fortune running “Minnesota 13,” the Dom Perignon of bootlegged whiskey from two Minnesota counties—Stearns and Morrison—to distributors in the Dakotas and Chicago. Ruthless and powerful, “Lucky” Gus LeDoux had earned an unfathomable amount of money and gained a notorious reputation, but made permanent enemies along the way. I always knew someday he’d die a violent death. I just never envisioned it would be by my hand.

I hadn’t planned to shoot my husband; I’d acted purely in self-defense. It did no good to dwell on it, but the memory of that horrific, life-altering day still haunted me…

Desperate to escape his life of crime, I’d run away from my husband and found refuge working as a domestic servant in the home of a private investigator. Gus eventually found out and stormed my place of work, forcing me to leave with him. As Federal agents surrounded the area, two men tried to apprehend him and he gunned them down—while I helplessly watched. My husband had a reputation for brutality, but to witness it firsthand horrified me and caused me to fear for not only my own safety, but also the well-being of my unborn child. I refused to go on and told Gus I wanted nothing more to do with him. He roared that if he couldn’t have me, no one would, and he tried to choke me.

Determined to save my baby, I grabbed his gun. We struggled. The gun went off. The memory of that deadly, piercing sound still left me numb; a stark reminder that my son, now three and a half months old, would never know his father. And I was to blame.

Only one other person saw what happened, but I knew Will Van Elsberg would never divulge my secret to anyone. To rescue me from the fray, he had lifted me in his arms and carried me to a secure place to keep me safe, proving himself to be the only true hero I’d ever known.

The events of that dark, rainy afternoon altered my life forever. As Gus’ widow, I inherited a fortune and became the sole parent to my newborn son. Though I was on my own for the first time in my life, I felt safe. I was free.

Then fate pulled me back to the dark side of Gus’ world, the most dangerous place I could be.

~*~

Author Questions:
NA; How did you come up with an idea for your book?
DD: I grew up listening to my grandmother talk about the 1920s. She was born in 1902 so she was eighteen at the time the Roaring Twenties began. She wore a flapper haircut with Marcel waves all her life and favored jewelry from the twenties. When the 20s trend started to become popular in the romance and mystery genres, I decided it was time to write my story.

NA; What sort of research did you do to write this book?
DD: The book takes place in Minnesota in the mid-twenties, so I wanted to write about Prohibition and the Roaring 20s from a local perspective. The Minnesota Historical Society had a number of really good books on the subject by local historians. Interestingly, I found that moonshiners in Minnesota made a high-grade bootlegged whiskey called “Minnesota 13” that was better quality than many of the commercial brands at the time!

NA; A fun fact about writing your book.
DD: The names of the two main characters—Charlotte Esther LeDoux and William Charles Van Elsberg are my grandparents’ names. LeDoux is Charlotte’s married name in the book (and her maiden name is Johnson). My grandmother’s correct maiden name was Charlotte Esther Smith before she married Will Van Elsberg. And if you’re wondering—the personalities of these characters are my own creation.

NA; What started you on the path to writing?
DD: As I indicated in my bio, I’ve had a passion for books since I learned to read. Little House in the Big Woods was the first book I read that I couldn’t put down. Growing up, I always thought you had to be rich and connected to publish books (got this impression from TV), but when I was thirteen, my family took a train trip out to Oregon and I found out that my cousin was writing a mystery with her friend. That gave me a new perspective on the idea and I wrote my first story in a notebook on the train on the way home. I still have that story locked away in my hope chest.

NA; What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
DD: My non-writing friends think it’s fascinating. My family is so used to it, they pretty much ignore it. One of my brothers, however, reads every book I write and is always asking when the next one will be finished. I dedicated one of my books to him.

NA; The biggest surprise you had after becoming a writer.
DD: I had no idea there were so many people writing books—especially romance. I didn’t learn this until my husband showed me an article in the Sunday paper (back in the late 80s) about Romance Writers of America holding a conference in Minnesota at the Mall of America. Unfortunately, this was after the conference happened. The internet wasn’t available yet and the journalist who wrote the article didn’t give any contact information for how to join. I didn’t find a local chapter of RWA in Minnesota until 1991. I found so many new friends through that chapter that I still hang out with today.

NA; Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
DD: Yes, I do! I need to know what my main characters want, why, and what’s keeping them from it otherwise I find myself in a corner eventually and don’t know how to get out of it. I start every book the old-fashioned way with a pencil and a cheap wire-bound notebook. I start scribbling pages of notes until I get so many I have to reorganize them in a Word doc. That’s when the outline starts to take shape and I can see what’s missing. I always know the beginning and end of every story before I start plotting.

NA; What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
DD: My husband is a travel agent so you know what I like to do best! I’ve been all over the world. When I’m home I love to garden, sew, read, go to movies and have lunch with writing friends.

NA; A pet peeve.
DD: People who think writing is easy. Everybody wants to write a book but very few people have a clue what that entails. My biggest pet peeve are self-published authors who don’t research the market at all and don’t have a single clue how to market their books because they don’t bother to find out.

NA; What errand/chore do you despise the most?
DD: Making supper every night! I hate having to stop what I’m doing and figure out what to cook.

NA; Strangest place you’ve brushed your teeth?
DD: Not really strange but totally fascinating. I stayed in a hotel in Egypt that was nearly walking distance of the pyramids at Giza and it used to be the hunting lodge of a former Arab prince. The architecture absolutely blew me away.

NA; What are you working on now?
DD: I’m starting a new small-town series called West Loon Bay and book one is called Small Town Girl. Growing up, I lived in small Minnesota towns for 5 years. My husband was born and raised in a small town and his family still lives there so I have a pretty good handle on the daily life of rural Minnesota. West Loon Bay is a tourist town on Lake Tremolo (resorts, golf and fishing) so there is always a lot going on.

NA; What question didn’t we ask that you’d like to answer?
DD: What I write specifically. I write sweet books, and by “sweet” I mean no profanity or onscreen sex, but there is plenty of conflict in the relationship. I also write romance, romantic comedy, romantic suspense, historical suspense and cozy mystery. I also have one inspirational romance. I have a private group on Facebook that I host with Raine English called Happily Ever After Stories – Sweet Romance. It’s a fun group with no controversial stuff ever, but we do have fun FB parties

About the Author
Denise DevineDenise Devine is a USA Today bestselling author who has had a passion for books since the second grade when she discovered Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. She wrote her first book, a mystery, at age thirteen and has been writing ever since. She loves all animals, especially dogs, cats and horses, and they often find their way into her books.

She has written twelve books, including books in the Beach Brides Series, The Perfect Match Series and the Hawaiian Holiday Series. Her books have hit the Top 100 Bestseller list on Amazon and she has been listed on Amazon’s Top 100 Authors.

If you’d like to know more about her, visit her website at:
https://www.deniseannettedevine.com
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