Author: Guest author Page 14 of 35

Gossip in the 19th Century

On October 17, 2018

Mr. and Mrs. Fottingham’s maid was found in the stable with a young craftsman? And they were sitting beside one another on bales of hay?

Emma Collins said she missed the church service due to illness, but was seen looking quite healthy beyond a window by a neighbour?

Someone stole chickens from the coop behind the house where Florence Bickle lives? To which someone replied, “Who else could it be but one of the rude, poor, lazy unkempt boys who hang around town begging for handouts?

Mrs. Blanchard actually has grey hair but uses hair dye regularly so no one can tell?

***

The word gossip has negative connotations pretty much around the world. The Oxford English Dictionary states that the earliest recorded use of the word was in the 11^th century, but it’s meaning was different than it is today. The word gossip referred to a child’s godparent and started off as godsibb or god sibling. Because godmothers often assisted with childbirth and were present in most women-only events, the word became synonymous with women who talked … a lot.

By the mid-eighteen hundreds, gossip was in regular use. It was considered delectable and titillating. By the mid-nineteenth century, gossip sheets and columns were highly popular with readers, if not with the people mentioned.

Victorian Town

Abby Parker planned out her whole life: complete her final year of high school, go to college, get a job, move away from her insane family, stay best friends with Jessica.

But that was before she broke into the nearby tourist attraction and unwittingly answered a call from a centuries-old spirit who dragged her into the 19th century.

Now she must solve a Victorian mystery without getting herself killed, or worse, spend a lifetime trapped in the past, leaving behind everyone she loves and altering their lives forever.

When she meets gorgeous Benjamin, the future looks a lot like wreckage.

Meet Nancy Thorne

An acclaimed author of short stories, Nancy Thorne’s debut novel Victorian Town is a time-hopping, paranormal romance featuring a high-school girl out to solve a century-old murder. She lives just outside of Toronto with her two sons and an energetic fox-red Labrador.

A Lady Doctor? Whatever was Her Father Thinking?

By Guest author

On October 3, 2018

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

All of London want to know more about the elusive Carlingford family. Wait no more. Our intrepid editor, Sam Clemens, is determined to uncover all the gossip for you, dear readers.

Carlingford Enterprises, the megalith manufacturing company, who dominates the burgeoning iron industry in England, making many of our famous steamer boats, as well as bridges, and other pieces of industrial equipment, is known to all. Many of our readers enjoy a drop from their famous brewery. Less well known is the family behind the company. That is, apart from the heir, Wilberforce Carlingford, who often frequents our ‘Street Philosopher’ section.

Your Teatime Tattler has been chasing an interview with young Miss Carlingford ever since she arrived back from her European tour. Readers, let me share the excitement with you. We have an exclusive interview with young Miss Carlingford’s footman.

“Higgins, Miss Carlingford must be one of the most sought after young ladies in Victorian London.”

“Doctor,” the footman replied succinctly. I pricked up my ears. In one word, the interest in this interview grew in epic proportions.

“A wealthy heiress, and a doctor? An unusual combination.”

“Dr Carlingford recently graduated from the Municipal University of Amsterdam and runs a medical charity in the slums of the East End. I accompany her for her safety.”

“Yes, well, we can’t have heiresses traipsing around the East End without protection. Do tell us just how large her dowry is.”

“I’m afraid that is confidential. However, anyone who wishes can apply to be seen at her medical practice on Harvey Street. Dr Carlingford specialises in the health of female patients and encourages all women of status to visit her at this clinic on Mondays and Tuesdays,” Higgins said.

“I’m sure that’s fabulous.” Clemens felt you, dear reader, did not require an advertisement from a footman with regards to young Miss Carlingford’s unusual medical practice. The idea that a woman could become qualified, in a foreign university, none-the-less, and declare herself fit to treat the lovely women of the upper classes was outside the scope of this publication, and of no interest to you, dear reader.

“Now tell us more about Mr Carlingford, the younger. It is said he is being groomed to take over from Mr Carlingford the elder and is in much need of a wife.”

“Mr Carlingford, junior, is in his mid-twenties. Too young to be contemplating a wife.”

“But if such a woman was interesting in helping him fall into the trap of matrimony, what preferences does he have?” Clements asked.

The footman, Higgins, clenched his jaw. “This interview is not about Mr Carlingford Junior. It is about the great leaps forward my mistress, Dr Carlingford, has made in the medical profession. Sir, it is 1888, beyond time we had female doctors to treat female patients.”

“My readers are not interested in such political statements. Is it true the Carlingford family came from the Americas?”

“I believe it is public knowledge that Mr Carlingford made his first fortune in oil but felt the steam-boat market was a better place to invest. He shifted the family to England, for the sake of his children’s education, and now you see the results. Carlingford Enterprises is one of England’s grandest businesses. My mistress, Dr Carlingford, represents the future of this nation.”

I closed the interview certain my readership would not be interested in the way the Carlingford’s loyal servant, Higgins, continued to advertise their businesses without gifting the readers any gossip of note.

When an uncommon lawyer meets an unusual doctor, their story must be extraordinary…

20 October 2018
Pre-order now.

https://www.harpercollins.com.au/9781489264626/

http://books2read.com/u/3yD16v

http://www.reneedahlia.com/books/bluestockings/

Heart of a Bluestocking

September 1888: Dr Claire Carlingford owns the bluestocking label. Her tycoon father encouraged her to study, and with the support of her two best friends, she took it further than anyone could imagine, graduating as a doctor and running her own medical practice. But it’s not enough for her father. He wants her to take over the business, so he can retire. Then his sudden arrest throws the family into chaos and his business into peril.

Mr James Ravi Howick, second son of Lord Dalhinge, wants to use his position as a lawyer to improve conditions for his mother’s family in India. When an opportunity arises to work for Carlingford Enterprises, one of the richest companies in the world, Ravi leaps at the chance to open his own legal practice. But his employment becomes personal as he spends more time with Claire and she learns the secret that could destroy his family.

Both Ravi and Claire are used to being outsiders and alone. But as they work together to save their respective families from disaster, it becomes clear that these two misfits might just fit together perfectly.

Excerpt

‘Dr Carlingford,’ she said. She slid the book back on the shelf, concentrating on that task so she couldn’t see the clerk’s reaction. With a nod to Higgins to remain in the foyer, she followed the clerk, who led her through an oak door and along a corridor. With each step, she hoped that she was getting closer to the biggest office. Woodleyville certainly had the seniority to deal with her father’s problem. She grinned to herself. It wasn’t every day that a tycoon was arrested. Hopefully, she could present the case as a puzzle to appeal to the elderly lawyer, enough to overcome his snobbery. The clerk opened a door and gestured for her to enter. She nodded her thanks and walked inside.

Behind a large desk with neat piles of paperwork stood a tall man of Indian descent. His dark brown eyes were framed by thick-rimmed glasses. The summer sunshine streamed in a large window and bounced off the glass on his face. Claire blinked. The room smelled of furniture polish, with a heady hint of hops about to be harvested.

‘Welcome,’ he said. His voice rumbled through the space between them, sending a shock wave inside her. She swallowed.

‘I was expecting Woodleyville Senior,’ she said. This man had to be around her age, and wasn’t at all like the senior partner she had expected to see. A tiny flutter began in her stomach and she pressed her hands softly against it.

‘Perhaps you could outline the issue to me,’ he said, calmly.

There was such music in his voice, a masculine music causing the small flutter to grow. Josephine’s note crinkled in her palm as she clasped her hands together, dragging her attention back to her task.

‘And you are?’

Meet Renée Dahlia
Renée Dahlia is an unabashed romance reader who loves feisty women and strong, clever men. Her books reflect this, with a side-note of dark humour. Renée has a science degree in physics. When not distracted by the characters fighting for attention in her brain, she works in the horse racing industry doing data analysis. She writes for two racing publications, churning out feature articles, interviews and advertorials. When she isn’t reading or writing, Renée wrangles a husband, four children, and volunteers on the local cricket club committee.

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The Wanderer Returns

By Guest author

On September 26, 2018

In Teatime Tattler

We are delighted to report that Lord Wayshaw’s younger brother, Rafe, has returned to the magnificent Taverslow estate after his travels in Europe and a stay at the family’s villa in Umbria.

The great and the good of Somerset will no doubt look forward to hearing tales of his continental adventures, while the young ladies will surely hang on every word of the county’s most eligible bachelor. It is said that the dashing Mr. Wayshaw is even more handsome than when he left these shores almost a year ago, and that his already fine skills in riding and dancing have been greatly enhanced by his time in foreign lands.

The debutantes of Somerset and London will have to compete for his affections, however, which are apparently taken by his two charming Yorkshire Terriers, Pepe and Paolo. They may also have to win the approval of Mr. Wayshaw’s faithful valet, Simpkins, from whom he seems quite inseparable. Indeed, some have hinted that they may be more intimate than one would expect of a servant and master. Of course the Tattler would never spread such gossip, but if we hear more of Mr. Wayshaw’s romantic attachments, rest assured dear readers, you will be the very first to know.

About The Book

A Valet’s Duty

At the turn of the twentieth century, Henry Simpkins is a valet at Taverslow, the Earl of Wayshaw’s Somerset home. When the Earl’s younger brother, Rafe, arrives from his villa in Italy, Henry is given the task of caring for his mischievous dogs, Pepe and Paolo. As part of his duties, he also goes to Rafe’s room each night to tidy away his clothes.

One night Rafe asks Henry to go beyond his valet’s duty, to relieve his sexual tensions. Henry enjoys their increasingly intimate encounters, but he’s soon disturbed to find he feels more for Rafe than mere physical attraction. Now Henry faces a difficult decision. Can he remain in the same house as Rafe if his affections are not returned?

A Valet’s Duty is available at Amazon: https://amzn.to/2n1Ei0A

Excerpt

When he followed Lord Wayshaw up the grand marble staircase, Henry wondered what sort of man the brother might be. He seemed to have a sense of humour, since he hadn’t chastised Henry for scolding his precious dogs. Henry only hoped he required as little attention as the earl. Each night, he sorted his lordship’s clothes when he undressed, and took his orders for the following day. His night-time duties were over in a matter of minutes, and he could go outside for a smoke before he turned in.

Henry knocked on Rafe’s door and was somewhat taken aback, when the ornately carved oak opened to reveal Rafe already in his dressing gown.

“Come in, Simpkins. I won’t keep you long.” Henry followed Rafe into the bedroom. “Just tidy my clothes away, would you?”

Rafe settled himself on a sofa and chattered away, as some gentlemen do, while Henry picked up his garments from the floor, sorting those that could be worn again from those that needed to be washed. He listened to Rafe describe his villa in Italy, where he obviously spent much of the year. It sounded enchanting, with its endless sunshine and olive groves, but Henry couldn’t properly picture the place—he’d never been farther south than Dover.

The next few nights passed in a similar way, with Henry nodding and smiling, and sometimes laughing, when Rafe talked of his life in Umbria. Falling to sleep each night in his narrow bed, Henry found himself dreaming of orange trees and vineyards. Sometimes he even dreamt of Rafe wandering among them in the Mediterranean sun, but on the fourth night when Henry went to Rafe’s room, something had changed. Rafe seemed on edge as he opened the door, and he sat on the sofa in silence as Henry carried out his tasks. Henry started to leave, when Rafe spoke at last, an unfamiliar tension in his voice.

“Simpkins, could I ask you something?”

“Of course, sir.”

Rafe gazed intently at his fingernails, giving Henry no clue as to what he might ask. His eyes remained lowered as he made his enquiry.

“Simpkins, are you—are you the same kind of man as Oscar Wilde?”

About the Author

H. Lewis-Foster lives in the north of England and has always worked with books, in one form or another. A keen reader and writer of gay fiction, she is now the proud author of several short stories and a debut novel ‘Burning Ashes’.

Lewis-Foster likes to create characters that are talented, funny and quite often gorgeous, but who all have their faults and vulnerable sides, and she hopes that you’ll enjoy reading their stories as much as she loves writing them.

You can find out more about H. and her books on her website.

A Scandalous Wager

By Guest author

On September 19, 2018

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

“A good day to you, Saybrook. A bit early for tippling, don’t you think? But perhaps you’re drowning your sorrows over losing Lord Dulcie for your sister.”

Theo Pennington, Viscount Saybrook, set down his glass and glared at the gentleman who had so rudely interrupted his solitary perusal of the Times in the Coffee Room of White’s Gentleman’s Club. “Selsey. What nonsense are you babbling? Dulcie’s father and I are meeting later this week to iron out the details of the marriage settlements.”

“Dulcie’s father, yes. But will Dulcie agree? Fifty guineas says he’ll never show.”

Theo sat up in his chair, his eyes narrowing. He might drink like a fish, but he never gambled. And neither did Selsey—unless he was absolutely certain of winning.

“What have you heard, Selsey?”

“Ah, it’s not what I’ve heard, but what I’ve read,” Selsey said, tapping a finger aside his nose. “Haven’t taken a look at the betting book this morning, have you, Saybrook?”

Theo rose on none too steady feet—coffee was not the only beverage served in the Coffee Room—and made his way to the sideboard where the Club’s betting book lay open. There, below the bet about how soon the recently-widowed Lady Constance Wingfield would take a lover, and above the wager on how long before the new Lord Raikes would pass on his title (the previous five holders of which had all died within a twelvemonth of gaining it), he found the following:

Mr. L. Leverett wagers 500 guineas that sentiment for Benedict Pennington will prevent Viscount Dulcie from courting and stealing away Miss Polyhymnia Adler (and her dowry of Old Masters paintings) from the aforesaid B. P.

It was even worse than he’d thought. If Dulcie won this bet, he’d scuttle all Theo’s efforts to finally get his troublesome sister off of his hands. But if Dulcie lost, the wording of the wager implied it would only be because he harbored some highly irregular feelings for Theo’s brother.

Feelings, Theo worried, that Benedict was all too ready to return.

“Damnation!” he whispered under his breath as he slammed the book shut…

Find out who wins the bet in A Sinner without a Saint:

An honorable artist

Benedict Pennington’s greatest ambition is not to paint a masterpiece, but to make the world’s greatest art accessible to all by establishing England’s first national art museum. Success in persuading a reluctant philanthropist to donate his collection of Old Master paintings brings his dream tantalizingly close to reality. Until Viscount Dulcie, the object of Benedict’s illicit adolescent desire, begins to court the donor’s granddaughter, set on winning the paintings for himself . . .

A hedonistic viscount

Sinclair Milne, Lord Dulcie, far prefers collecting innovative art and dallying with handsome men than burdening himself with a wife. But when rivals imply Dulcie’s refusal to pursue wealthy Miss Adler and her paintings is due to lingering tender feelings for Benedict Pennington, Dulcie vows to prove them wrong. Not only will he woo her away from the holier-than-thou painter, he’ll also placate his matchmaking father in the process.

Sinner and saint—can both win at love?

But when Benedict is dragooned into painting his portrait, Dulcie finds himself once again drawn to the intense artist. Can the sinful viscount entice the wary painter into a casual liaison, one that will put neither their reputations, nor their feelings, at risk? Or will the not-so-saintly artist demand something far more vulnerable—his heart?

Publication date: September 16, 2018

ASIN: B07DZ2CVK9

ISBN (ebook): 978-0-9961937-6-4

ISBN (paperback): 978-0-9961937-7-1

Subgenre: Historical (Regency) romance; male/male romance

Page count: 352

Meet Bliss Bennet

Bliss Bennet writes smart, edgy novels for readers who love history as much as they love romance. Her Regency-set historical romance series, The Penningtons, has been praised by the Historical Novel Society’s Indie Reviews as “well worth following”; her books have been described by USA Today as “savvy, sensual, and engrossing,” by Heroes and Heartbreakersas “captivating,” and by The Reading Wench as having “everything you want in a great historical romance.” Her latest book is A Sinner without a Saint.

Despite being born and bred in New England, Bliss finds herself fascinated by the history of that country across the pond, particularly the politically-volatile period known as the English Regency. Though she’s visited Britain several times, Bliss continues to make her home in New England, along with her husband, daughter, and two monstrously fluffy black cats.

Bliss’s mild-mannered alter ego, Jackie Horne, writes about the intersection of gender and genre at the Romance Novels for Feminists blog.

BUY LINKS:

AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/Sinner-without-Saint-Penningtons-ebook/dp/B07DZ2CVK9/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1534880673&sr=1-1&keywords=sinner+without+a+saint

NOOK: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-sinner-without-a-saint-bliss-bennet/1128761514?ean=2940162046783

IBOOKS: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/a-sinner-without-a-saint/id1388013379?mt=11

KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/a-sinner-without-a-saint

The Tragedy of the Town Hall’s Lady

By Guest author

On September 12, 2018

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Beautiful ghost girl in white dress

Mr. Clemens is never quite sure what might be in his inbox, but this story begged for front page coverage. Even if the pertinent events happened fifty years after his time, and those remembering them were an unbelievable two hundred years in his future.

Crescent Creek is a quiet little town. Safe, well looked after, and loved by the local folks. Nice people, most of them. Even in the stories I told, trouble came to Crescent Creek, not within.

But the old men, those whose great-great-grandparents were born and died inside the town limits, love to recount the tragic tale of what’s known as the Town Hall’s Lady.

A young girl married to Joseph Jones, the richest and most influential man in Crescent Creek, Helen Jones sinned by falling in love with Nokosi, a warrior of the Ais/Costas Tribe.

The whole thing didn’t amount to much in the Newspapers, as troubles with the native Indian Tribes were a daily occurrence.

Crescent Creek News, July 18, 1864

After reported disturbances with the Costas tribe, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs informed them if they created disturbances with the whites a sufficient military force would be sent to put them down.

We do know the real story from a letter that the Helen sent to a friend in her native Boston, though, and it’s the tale of a broken heart.

Dearest Laura,

My heart died.

Joseph paid the Commissioner to send troops in Nokosi’s village to destroy it. I know he will not see tomorrow’s sun, not with how much Joseph paid. What I do know, is the wrongness in my doing as no wife has the right to yearn for another man but her Husband, and for that sin I will pay in this life and the next. Yet, my heart was, is, Nokosi’s.

Today and always, my tears will fall for him.

I’d leave this place I hate to embrace a life of seclusion in a monastery but here, in the few places I shared with Nokosi, is where I can feel him.

So, I’ll stay in this house, within these walls that had seen our brief joy, and remember him and what he gave me.

And so she stayed, even after she died many years later. The Jones’ house became Crescent Creek’s Town Hall and to this day, it is said you can hear Helen crying on the third floor, where her bedchamber was.

His Midnight Sun

by Viviana MacKade

Tormented, fierce, and broken, sculptor Aidan Murphy has judged himself guilty. He yearns for love but pushes everyone away. He longs for acceptance but has lost the key to open his heart. Until he meets Summer Williams. Beautiful and smart, Dr. Williams promises haven for a man who believes he deserves none. All he has to do is let her in and risk his heart and soul.

Summer’s managed to keep her inner light alive, even through tragedy. She’s created a new life for herself and her daughter in Crescent Creek with loving, caring and fun friends–well, except brooding, breathtaking Aidan. She’s used to keeping away from his type, though. All she has to do is ignore the pull of a man who’s turning up to be much more than snarls and storms. Will her compassion and medical instincts let her?

Love can heal a broken soul and shake up a timid heart. Or it can unleash devastation and revenge.

Will Aidan and Summer survive the hurricane?

Release September 15, available for pre-sale

$ 0.99 FREE with KU

https://goo.gl/L8okF6

THE AUTHOR

Beach bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian town with her husband and her son, her die-hard fans and personal cheer squad. She spends her days between typing on her beloved keyboard, playing in the pool with her boy, and eating whatever her husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding, hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.

Find me:

On my website http://www.viviana-mackade.blog/

On FB

On Twitter

Amazon Author page