The village of Montvale is atwitter with
news of its most notorious resident. The Duke of Montvale, dubbed the Monster
for his dark and frightening ways seems to be playing host to a house guest. A
young lady!
Though his dashing friend The Marquess of
Avondale is no stranger to Montvale, it has been quite unheard of for anyone
else to brave the wrath of the Monster and visit the Hall. Yet it seems one
such person exists.
One Miss Abigail Langton recently arrived
from The Americas has not only visited, but is staying at Montvale Hall.
And if our sources are to be believed, she
has turned the place on its ear. The duke too!
Though the servants of the house remain as
tight-lipped as they did all those years ago when tragedy struck the Montvale
family, Miss Langton has been making her presence known in the village and
apparently in the house.
We do wonder if poor Miss Langton knows
what she’s let herself in for.
Though perhaps we should be wondering if
the duke knows what he’s let himself in for.
We have no doubt that something monumental
will come from this unprecedented event.
As for what that could be? Well, we shall just have to wait and see.
The
Monster of Montvale Hall Blurb
A childhood tragedy had shaped the life of
Robert Forsythe, the Duke of Montvale Hall, forever.
He kept himself isolated from the world and
the people in it, revelling in his reputation as a monster.
Locked in a world of guilt and grief,
nobody had ever been able to break down the walls he kept around him. Nobody
had ever tried.
And if being a monster kept everyone away,
then a monster he would be.
Abigail Langton was as headstrong as she
was mischievous, so it was no surprise that she wasn’t exactly welcomed at
Montvale Hall with open arms.
It didn’t take her long to understand why
its owner was called a monster.
It took even less time to realise that
monster or not, Abigail’s heart called to him in a way she couldn’t deny or
understand.
Robert’s world is turned upside down and
inside out by the irrepressible Abigail. And try as he might to avoid it, he
finds himself drawn to her in ways he doesn’t want. In ways that scare the wits
out of him.
Will Robert give in to the temptation that is Abigail? And will Abigail find the heart of the man beneath the monster?
Our devoted readers will no doubt find this clipping forwarded to The Teatime Tattler from The Headstone Gazette across the pond. Obviously, concerned citizens and devotion to proper behavior are not limited to here in London. — S. Clemens
Dear Ms. Decorum:
I’m penning this letter out of the utmost concern for the wellbeing and safety of our latest young debutante from Boston who arrived into Headstone yesterday. Lord have mercy, if the lovely Miss Daisy Danvers wasn’t thronged by a posse of train robbers the moment she set foot on the train platform! One witness claimed she fainted dead away and toppled straight over the side of the platform.
I’ve
yet to verify the details, but another witness claims she was caught in the
arms of none other than Prescott Barra, the rough and ready local bull rider
who set a previously-unheard-of, 10-second record at our last rodeo. And you
know what they say about those Barra brothers? Nothing but trouble, that’s
what!
What’s
worse about this report is the most unfortunate fact that Daisy hasn’t been
seen since Prescott rode off with her on his horse yesterday. The very notion
of them being lost in the desert — without a chaperone, no less — is giving me
the vapors right this second. Oh, where are my smelling salts?
I
did a little digging on my own and discovered that Daisy was sent to Headstone
by the reputable Boomtown Mail Order Brides Company in Boston, which can only
mean one thing: She is under contract as a mail-order bride to some gentleman
in our town. Our very town, dear citizens!
I’m not certain how reputable the name of this bridal agency will remain when
they discover one of their brides is missing. The poor gel could be anywhere.
Oh, the horrors! Is she safe? Is she alive? I can hardly bear to consider the
possibilities.
Even
if Daisy Danvers is returned to town whole and in one piece — may the good Lord
let it be so! — I am distressed to be the one to point out that her reputation
will be in shreds. The way I see it, the lovely Miss Daisy will only have one
choice to salvage those shreds. Regardless of whom she is currently affianced
to (may the Lord comfort him and send him another, more suitable bridal
candidate), it is my Christian belief that Miss Daisy has been thoroughly
compromised by Prescott Barra. Alas, he is the man she must marry.
I’ll be joining a group of God-fearing women who will be holding vigil on the steps of the General Store this afternoon. It is my hope and prayer they will have an update on this brewing scandal. Be assured I will report back with anything new I hear.
Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen Who Wishes to Remain Anonymous
About the Book
Dare-Devil Daisy: Mail Order Brides Rescue #5
To the world, Daisy Danvers is a spoiled young debutante from
Boston who always gets what she wants. But she has secrets — big, festering
secrets she doesn’t want her best friend, Meg Nicholson, to find out. All she
needs from Meg is a promise to help her find the perfect husband the moment she
steps off the train in Headstone, Arizona. Her very life might depend upon it.
She never dreamed her troubles would follow her out West, and a
whole posse of armed robbers would be waiting for her when she disembarked. She
also never dreamed a cocky cowboy would sweep her away to safety on his horse.
It’s way too bad the devilishly handsome Prescott Barra claims
he’s already affianced to another woman, because he’s everything she’s been
looking for in a husband. He’s brave and fearless with a streak of adventure as
wide as the canyons they’re riding. When she discovers he has a secret or two
of his own, she begins to hope that maybe — just maybe — their secrets will
lead them to each other.
The storm swirling across Meg’s features cleared. She stood and
held out both hands to him. “You dear, dear man! I am so happy you’ve agreed to
help me.”
That made one of them. He was fairly certain pretending to be
engaged to Meg’s dearest friend was the most foolish thing he’d ever been asked
to do.
“I’ll be sure to tell Shad how kind you were to me in his
absence.”
Right.
He was only doing this to help out a man he respected. Or at least the friend
of the wife of a man he respected… Which was the same thing, wasn’t it? His
brain hurt just thinking about it.
“What is her name?” he asked abruptly. He at least deserved to know
the name of the chit he was going to be saddled with for a few days.
“Daisy.” Meg beamed at him. “Daisy Danvers, though some folks like
to call her Dare-Devil Daisy.”
Blast it all! Helping Daisy sounded like a pack of trouble. Then
again, he was a Barra brother. Trouble followed him everywhere he went. Trouble
was his middle name.
About the Author
Jo Grafford writes sweet historical and contemporary romance stories — with humor, sass, and happily ever afters.
A typical day finds her with her laptop balanced on her knees, a fizzy beverage within reach, and a cat snoozing on her knees. He takes credit for most of what she does.
When Jo’s not writing stories, she’s reading them. She adores dashing gentlemen, resilient heroines with a sense of adventure, humorous sidekicks, dusty cowboys, bounty hunters, mail order brides…you get the idea.
To receive a personal email about each book she publishes, join her New Release Email List at JoGrafford.com or follow her on BookBub at https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jo-grafford.
What’s this about
you leaving your position with the Grenvilles?
Word is they’re a respectable family. I had hopes that their cook would
train you up. Good cooks are scarce. You’d never want for work with that kind
of skill.
I must confess,
your new employers sound terrifying. I know you said they assist people who’ve
been done wrong, but they used to be thieves. Even the women! I can’t imagine
why you’d leave a fine household to work for such a strange group. But then,
you’ve always been one to leap before you looked.
I pray to God
every night to keep you safe. Your loving sister, Bess
To Mrs. Thaddeus
Wilton
Dear Bess—
I know you’ve
been worried about me taking that new position with the Restitution League, but
I couldn’t be happier. Mrs. Crane and the rest are very kind, even if Mr.
Edison does scare the daylights out of us with his experiments. The explosions
do rattle one’s nerves, I don’t mind saying. Last week he built a brass
automaton that pours tea! It wasn’t long
before the poor fellow knocked over an end table and broke a vase. Mrs. Crane
was not pleased.
As you can see by
this letter, I’ve learnt to use the typewriter quite well. I’m to start lessons
on the telegraph machine next week. Learning Morse code seems impossibe, but
Mr. Edison says I’ve got the brains for it. Time will tell. I’m so happy to be
doing something besides sweeping and dusting.
I hope Thaddeus
and the children are well. It looks as if I’ll get a chance to see for myself
soon. Mr. and Mrs. Crane are going on a delayed honeymoon trip next month. She
says I’m to have a whole two weeks leave. The Grenvilles were never so
generous.
I’ve already saved up for the train fare, so
you can plan on having me at the first of the month. There’s no need to fret.
I’m happier than I could imagine. And wait until you see my new clothes! Office girls don’t have to wear stupid old
uniforms like maids do. I’ve got a smart new set of dresses to show you.
I can’t wait to
see you all. Your sister, the office
girl
Yost Typewriter 1890
About the Book
A woman who disdains love collides with a man who lives for passion.
Explosions ensue.
Ada Templeton believes in science. She believes in chemical reactions
and experimentation and old-fashioned common sense. She’s far too clever to be
seduced by a rake like Edison Sweet.
Over Ada’s objections, Edison agrees to guard her latest invention
from a mastermind willing to kill for it. He never expects to be intrigued by
the lovely widow whose body he finds as exciting as her mind.
Seducing the
Scientist and the other books in the Restitution League series are now
available in Kindle Unlimited.
In the
daylight, Ada’s laboratory was nothing short of spectacular.
It was
everything Edison’s own workshop was not. Beakers, test tubes, and glass
decanters, each in their proper place on mahogany workbenches, gleamed in the
bright autumn light. All neat and tidy and pleasingly arranged, not unlike the
scientist who worked there.
All the
more so as he suspected the effect was completely accidental.
And then
there was her scent. That light swirl of violets. Even in the midst of the
acrid, metallic odors emanating from every beaker and box in the crowded room,
it stirred him.
Delightful
perfume aside, the woman’s obstinance was beginning to grate. Badly.
Edison
rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I can’t keep your device safe if you don’t tell
me where it is.”
She raised
a beaker to eye level, frowning as she measured dry plaster of Paris to her
liking. “It’s well hidden. Have no worry about that.”
“Have no
worry? Are you addled?” He threw his hands up. “What do you think those men
were looking for last night? What about the men before that? They weren’t after
your excessive hoard of plaster.”
She
continued with her measuring. “You’ll have to trust me, Mr. Sweet…Edison. The
device is secure. What I do need your assistance with—and I am fully willing to
admit it—is protection for my family.”
“Yes, yes.
Of course. We’ll keep you all safe. That’s the easy part. I sent the stable boy
to gather the rest of the League before I came down to breakfast. My
reinforcements will be here before lunch, I’m sure. But I can’t protect your
device, unless—”
She
slammed the jar of powder down onto the counter. “You’re already taking a risk
to protect us. I won’t add to that. The device is safe. Even if it were not, I
won’t have you endanger yourself to save it.”
Unlike
most women, she didn’t resort to coquetry. She met him head to head. Any other
time, he would have found that profoundly appealing. Under the current
conditions, however, it was unduly aggravating.
He closed
his eyes, wishing he were contending with the sort of woman who liked to be
cosseted and protected. He understood
those women—how they thought, what they desired.
How to get
what he wanted in return.
Habit made
him lean close so his breath would caress her ear. He’d been told more than
once it made women shiver delightfully. “I’ll find it eventually, you know.”
Instead of
melting, softening, shivering, or sighing, she jerked away as if he reeked like
a fishmonger.
“Search
all you like.” She measured chloride into the beakers. “You won’t find it.”
Edison
ground his teeth. Dear God, he’d seen granite cliffs less stubborn. If charm
had no effect, intimidation might.
He lifted
the chloride from her hand and set it on the bench.
She glared
fiercely. “I beg your pardon?”
He ignored
her and closed in, backing her up against a filing cabinet. When she could go
no farther, he spread his arms wide, his palms flat against the cabinet front,
pinning her in.
She
squinted up at him. “What are your intentions?”
The
words did not match her tone, which was soft and sweet and—dare he hoped—welcoming.
He
smiled. “What would you like them to be?”
Her
mouth opened wider. Her chest rose and fell as her breath deepened and her eyes
dilated. “I believe I should like you to kiss me,” she said finally.
About the Author
Riley Cole writes sexy,
sassy historical romances set in the innovative, energetic Victorian Era.
If you enjoy high
adventure with your historical romance, delve into Riley’s version of late
Victorian London. Thieves, rogues, and love await.
Stay updated on
Restitution League news, exclusive content and new releases, subscribe to
Riley’s newsletter at http://bit.ly/rileynews
It is a sad day indeed when we are forced to communicate
such news as follows, but it is our duty to bring you even the most scandalous incidents…even
if they involve one of the most highly regarded residents of our region—the
venerated war hero, Colonel Johnathon P. Wescott.
Mrs. Charlotte Tisdale, a well-respected resident of New
Hope reported the following, and we relay it now to you. It seems that an
impromptu gala was thrown together at Lacewood by Colonel Wescott’s men, who
were given leave by their beloved commander to take part in Christmas Eve
festivities. It was late at night before Colonel Wescott left his post on the battlefield,
but he finally appeared at Lacewood, looking as gallant and intrepid as ever
such a highly esteemed man can look.
Of course, those in attendance at Lacewood included all of
the eligible young ladies from the region who hoped to catch a glimpse—or
perhaps even a dance—with the widowed father.
Dear readers, here is the news of which I warned you. It has
been reported to us by Mrs. Tisdale (and others) that the Colonel danced the
night away—not with one of the highly regarded Southern belles in attendance—but
with the Yankee caretaker of his young daughter!
Yes, friends, if you live in New Hope, you know the sad
story. The poor child was left motherless by the passing of his wife almost a
year ago, and now the sweet darling has been left in the hands of a stranger
whose reputation and character are known to us only by the gossip that trickles
in by attentive neighbors.
However, we know all we need to know. Mrs. Tisdale confirmed
that this woman, this Yankee she-devil, hails from New York and has a brother
in the Union army. Yes, you read that correctly. A brother…In the Union Army.
Wishing to verify these rumors—which are obviously too
absurd and preposterous to be accepted on their face, we discovered that the
news gets even worse. It seems Miss Annie Logan (the caretaker) placed herself
beneath the mistletoe when Colonel Wescott was near, and, of course, being a
Southern gentlemen of the highest order, he felt obligated to satisfy the
tradition that has been handed down for centuries.
My own face reddens at the thought of this conniving kiss. Who
knows what else has transpired between the walls of Lacewood? We can only hope
that it will not stain the character of its occupants for generations to come…
About the Book
Two people trying to escape
their pasts find a connection through an old house—and fulfill a destiny
through the secrets it shares. Part love story, part ghost story, Lacewood is
a timeless novel about trusting in fate, letting of the past, and believing in
things that can’t be seen.
MOVING TO A SMALL TOWN in Virginia is a big
change for New York socialite Katie McCain. But when she stumbles across an
abandoned 200-year-old mansion, she’s enthralled by the enduring beauty of the
neglected estate—and captivated by the haunting portrait of a woman in
mourning.
Purchasing the property on a whim, Katie attempts to fit in with the colorful characters in the town of New Hope, while trying to unravel the mystery of the “widow of Lacewood.” As she pieces together the previous owner’s heartrending story, Katie uncovers secrets the house has held for centuries, and discovers the key to coming to terms with her own sense of loss.
Sometimes
love is just too powerful for one lifetime…
The past and present converge when hometown
hero Will Durham returns and begins his own healing process by helping the
“city girl” restore the place that holds so many memories. As the mystic web of destiny
is woven, a love story that might have been lost forever is exposed, and a
destiny that has been waiting in the shadows for centuries is fulfilled.
Take advantage of the low
launch-week price of only $3.99, and sign up for the author’s newsletter at https://www.jessicajamesbooks.com.
“I think Jon has finally broken away from the ladies,” Luke
said at last. “Here he comes.”
Annie turned and watched with an incredible degree of
composure as Colonel Wescott strode toward her with calm detachment, pinioning
her where she stood with his devouring stare. A strange sensation throbbed
in her then—like the beating of a new heart—and she marveled at its power to
fluster and confuse.
When he reached her he stopped, but his caressing gaze
continued to play across her face. “You are aware of the tradition, I suppose.”
Colonel Wescott’s voice, Annie had learned, could be
penetrating and commanding, or gentle and kind. He could easily silence an
entire roomful of people without yelling or losing control—and could just as
effortlessly melt her heart with the tender tones of a father.
The tenor tonight was both warm and imposing, throwing her
off balance. Her eyes darted around, not understanding his meaning.
“Tradition?”
He merely gestured to a place over her head, his smile
widening as she took in the swag of mistletoe hanging above her.
Grasping Luke’s ruse that had placed her in this spot, Annie
transferred her gaze to Luke just as he was exchanging a mischievous wink with
his brother. Even Miss Benton was now brimming over with amusement.
“Do you need schooling in the ritual?” Colonel Wescott’s
tone was businesslike, but the sentiment on his face was not. It reflected a
playfulness, a cheerful joviality that was both infatuating and intimidating.
He’d never crossed this line of familiarity with her before—and Annie was
fairly sure he’d not done so with others, even those he considered close
friends.
She wanted to pretend an affront, but when faced with his
appealing smile her defenses melted away. Candlelight and music filled the air,
exaggerating and intensifying the intoxication of her senses. Laughter and
conversation blended and blurred until nothing existed but the man before her,
whose smoldering eyes beckoned seductively.
About the Author
Jessica James is an
award-winning author of romantic suspense, historical fiction, and Christian
fiction, who combined all of her favorite things to create Lacewood.
Her new release is a
multi-era, small town, clean, inspirational novel that melds together elements
of mystery, history, and romance.
As someone who lives in a
200-year-old house, Jessica was intrigued when thinking about the generations
of people who occupied the same home. Lacewood
gives readers a behind-the-scenes glimpse of what took place in an old
neglected Southern mansion before two people from the modern world stumble
across it and into each other. It’s a love story that spans centuries, taking
readers on a journey into the past as the house reveals secrets about a
long-lost love affair.
The most unusual and upsetting of occurrences
has happened, and I wish now more than ever that Randall would leave this
forsaken place and move back to civilization. I imagine the snow is beautiful
banking along the Thames, and how I long for an outing to Mrs. Starling’s millinery
shop. I am in dire need of a new hat and there is not a one milliner worthy of
such a task here in Clun. I suppose I shall just catch cold rather than wear
such an atrocity upon my head!
But back to the urgent matter at hand, the
Constable here has up and died by his own witlessness. The man had some sort of
infirmity and ended up dying in the woods. They found him frozen through, but
thank goodness no animals had yet discovered him. Otherwise, I might have
fainted straight away.
And, the worst of it, the absolute most
obscene part of it, is that a woman, an odd although in other respects pretty
and intelligent creature, has decided to become Clun’s new layer-out of the
dead. She even enlisted her poor younger sister to aid her in such an endeavor.
I do have some semblance of sympathy for
them as they did lose their parents not long ago in another entirely different grizzly
affair, which I relayed to you last month. But to resort to such unseemly means
to provide for themselves is more than I can fathom. I have insisted that Randall
speak with her and forbid it, but he tells me there is no law against women
making foolish decisions. I told him there should be. The girls are throwing
away any chance of a future by making such a choice.
I am spent in writing this to you and find
I must now retire for a spell to regain my spirits. All this ghastly business
has worn me through.
Send my love to your sweet daughters and
please do invite me to come visit for I must escape this place. . .and soon, my
dear.
With an
urgency to be elsewhere,
Catherine
About the Book: Lovely Digits
When
two murders strike the sleepy Victorian town of Clun, England, an unlikely
partnership forms. But can the killer be found before there is a third?
Lovely Digits is the town
oddity…
But
quirky spinster Lucy Wycliffe prefers to ignore gossip and embrace her position
as the town’s layer out of the dead, despite how her parents’ deaths thrust her
into such unlikely work. Lovely Digits, as she’s known to the local
townspeople, no longer dreams of marriage, but takes pride in providing dignity
to the dead. Desperate to hold on to her family’s cottage and support her
widowed sister and young niece, an unexpected offer of employment as assistant
to the constable arrives at the perfect time.
Former sailor John Brodie is
the mysterious new constable…
But John Brodie is far from a stranger to Clun
or the events of its past. Accepting the position as constable in the small
town is a double edged sword meant to heal his past and redeem his future, but
falling for the beautiful and intelligent Lucy Wycliffe was never part of his
plan. As the killer closes in, will John reveal his secret and risk losing
everything to save Lucy’s life?
Want to
read more? Here is my Amazon Buy Link:
Excerpt from the Book:
Clun,
England
February,
1839
Old
Man Codger’s frozen toe rolled across the floor toward the door.
“Lord
above. Mind the corner, sister,” Lucy muttered. She blew an errant curl from
her cheek as they swung the man’s stiff body onto the scarred wooden table in
front of the hearth. The body landed with a thud.
Blast. Lucy scanned the floor. Nothing. Where had it gone? She lifted her
skirts.
“There
you are,” she grumbled. The rogue digit rested between the scuffed heels of her
old brown boots. Using the edge of one of the sleeves of her faded blue blouse,
she leaned down and clutched the rather putrid, large hairy toe and placed it
on the man’s chest. Now she’d have to sew on a toe, too. A frozen toe.
Perfect.
Priscilla
covered her mouth with the back of her hand and yielded a dry retch. Plugging
her nose, she rolled her eyes. “There has
to be another way.”
Lucy
eyed her pert younger sister and sighed. At thirteen, Cil was on the cusp of
womanhood. There were so many things she would miss from their parents not
being there to guide her. The guilt over the death of Mother and Father a month
past stung like a barb under Lucy’s skin. If only she’d arrived home at the
cottage sooner instead of lingering about the forest to find her pet starling.
She banished the thought away.
After
tying back her hair, Lucy pushed up her sleeves to the elbow. “If there had
been any other option, we’d have done it. It’s either prep him for burial or
starve. It’s just us now, Cil.”
The
old man’s time in the woods had not been kind to him, but at least the extreme
cold had kept the insects at bay. A white milky maggot dropped from his nose to
the table. Lucy shuddered. Most of them.
She loathed insects, especially worms. Things that could move without legs
weren’t natural.
“Hand
me the needle and thread.” Lucy rested her hands on her hips. “I need to get
this toe sewn back on when he thaws. I’ll not be docked pay for him missing
parts.”
About the Author
Jeanine
Englert is a Golden Heart ® Finalist and Daphne du Maurier Award winner in historical romantic suspense.
After years of writing in secret, she joined Romance Writers of America and
Georgia Romance Writers in 2013 and has been an active member ever since. She
writes Scottish Highland historicals and historical romantic suspense novels.
When she isn’t wrangling with her characters on
the page, she can be found trying to convince her husband to watch her latest
Masterpiece or BBC show obsession. She loves to talk about books, writing, her
beloved pups, and of course mysteries with other readers on Twitter
@JeanineWrites, Facebook, or at her website www.jeaninewrites.com.
Her debut novel, Lovely Digits, released in June of 2019 by Soul Mate Publishing, is a Victorian romantic suspense that won the 2017 Daphne du Maurier Award and was named a 2018 Golden Heart ® Finalist for best unpublished romantic suspense.
