Author: Guest author Page 9 of 35

Guilty or Not?

By Guest author

On October 30, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

Dear readers,

The landlord’s wife saw it all. What do you make of this? Is she guilty? I rather think she is.

Overheard in the Ferry Inn, Flushing August 15^th 1796.

‘Honest to God, it’s the absolute truth.’

‘Slower, please. Start from the beginning. They entered together? What time was this?’

‘Must have been about ten. She came in first – not even a backward glance. Went straight to the table near the door. The place was laid like I was told to lay it, and she just sat there with her baskets in front of her. Straight away I could tell it weren’t right. Not at all.’

‘In what way wasn’t it right?’

‘She kept her cloak tight around her – tight like she was cold – an’ it was that hot in there. An’ then I saw why. She was one of them Society of Friends – the ones that visit prisoners. Now, you tell me, what would she be doing waiting for a man at that time of night?’

‘Describe her, please.’

‘Brown hair, high cheek bones. Couldn’t see much under her wide-brimmed bonnet. Black cloak. Softly spoken – local accent.’

‘She sat at the table and you gave her a meal – one that had been ordered by a man the night before?’

‘Yes, as God’s my witness. My best rabbit pie it was. Yet she didn’t eat it. Just sat there waiting for the man to come.’

‘She was definitely waiting for a man?’

‘Yes. He left a message – I was to tell her he’d be along later.’

‘And the man who came in with her, or rather, just after her – the one she left with? Describe him for me.’

‘Tall, handsome, fine-boned in a gentlemanly sort of way. And polite, yes, very polite. I’d say he was definitely a gentleman, though he was wearing working clothes – a coachman’s coat an’ hat. Pulled so low ye couldn’t really see his face.’

‘And he sat separately?’

‘Yes. He was sat by the back door – watchin’ out for her. But I can tell you one thing. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Kept staring at her when she weren’t looking. Even in the dark I could see the love in his eyes.’

‘And you can swear, on oath, that they showed signs of surprise when the fire was sighted?’

‘Yes, I’d say so. But maybe more anger than anything.’

‘And yet that could have been fabricated?’

‘I’m sorry, sir. What do ye mean by that?’

‘Their surprise and anger might have been made up. In other words they might have pretended to be surprised. To fool you. To make you swear, on oath, that they were innocent, when really they were guilty?’

‘Well, I don’t know about that.’

‘No. Well, never mind. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.’

About the Book

The Cornish Lady

Educated, beautiful and the daughter of a prosperous merchant, Angelica Lilly has been invited to spend the summer in high society. Her father’s wealth is opening doors, and attracting marriage proposals, but Angelica still feels like an imposter among the aristocrats of Cornwall.

When her brother returns home, ill and under the influence of a dangerous man, Angelica’s loyalties are tested to the limit. Her one hope lies with coachman Henry Trevelyan, a softly spoken, educated man with kind eyes. But when Henry seemingly betrays Angelica, she has no one to turn to. Who is Henry, and what does he want? And can Angelica save her brother from a terrible plot that threatens to ruin her entire family?

The fourth novel in a stunning series set in eighteenth-century Cornwall, perfect for fans of Poldark.

https://www.kobo.com/au/en/ebook/the-cornish-lady

https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-cornish-lady/nicola-pryce/9781786493859

https://www.whsmith.co.uk/products/the-cornish-lady-cornish-saga-main/9781786493859

An Excerpt

Henry stood against the taproom bar, nodding to the man beside him. The landlord was red-faced and bald-headed, drying a pewter tankard with a cloth, turning the tap on the barrel. The men who had stared at my arrival turned back to their ale and I settled against the hard wooden bench, trying to stop my heart from hammering. A woman in a tight bodice and large mobcap saw me and smiled. She made her way towards me, holding aloft a plate and jug of wine.

‘Pie an’ wine fer ye, my love,’ she said, wiping her brow with the cloth hanging from her apron. ‘’Tis that hot in here, but he likes it like that fer they drink more. Yer friend left a message – said he’d be along soon. Ye just sit tight an’ enjoy that rabbit.’ She smiled and turned and I stared down at the huge crust of pie with carrots and cabbage spilling from the plate.

Henry must have ordered food. He made his way round the tables, sitting nearest the back door. His hat and coat made him merge with the crowd but even so, he looked out of place. He was sitting slumped forward, his arms on the table, his elbows wide, but there was no hiding his manners. No hiding the charm with which he thanked the landlord’s wife, the elegant way he unfolded his napkin, the shy nod to his fellow diners as he began his meal and I looked away. I glanced back. He seemed somehow vulnerable, a rather charming man doing the wrong job.

Any other circumstances – any other time or place – and I would have enjoyed his company. I would have enjoyed dining with him, enjoyed discussing his choice of poetry, asked him what he had done in America, how his mother was…which of my plays he had liked the most. I pushed my plate away untouched. He was my brother’s gaoler, yet no man drew me so completely. It was as if I became alive in his presence. The touch of his hand on my cheek making my heart beat faster.

Sweat trickled down my back, the tight wig making my hair itch. I wanted to take off my cloak, but no woman would sit in a tavern in a prudish grey gown with stiff white collar and cuffs and I pulled the cloak tighter. Henry had finished his meal and was stretching back against the hard bench, cradling his jar of ale in both hands. He was staring straight ahead as if too tired to talk, yet the moment the man took my baskets, he would clasp him in handcuffs.

The tavern slowly emptied, only a number of men left scattered among the tables. Thin curls of smoke coiled from the guttering candles, the room growing darker. Two men had fallen asleep on their folded arms, two others staring moodily into their empty pint pots. Martha Selwyn had said the man could keep her waiting for hours; it must only have been an hour, yet it seemed so much longer. I glanced at Henry and caught my breath. He was staring at me so intently, the ferocity in his eyes making my heart jolt. I had never been looked at like that before. It felt like pain. Like my body was on fire.

About the Author

Nicola Pryce trained as a nurse at St Bartholomew’s Hospital in London. She loves both literature and history and has an Open University degree in Humanities. She’s a qualified adult literacy support volunteer and lives with her husband in the Blackdown Hills in Somerset. She and her husband love sailing and together they sail the south coast of Cornwall in search of adventure. If she’s not writing or gardening, you’ll find her scrubbing decks.

‘Pengelly’s Daughter’ is her first novel, ‘The Captain’s Girl’ second, ‘The Cornish Dressmaker’ third, and The Cornish Lady comes next. Her fifth novel will be published next summer.

Nicola is a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and The Historical Writers Association. You can find her at https://www.nicolapryce.co.uk/ and https://www.facebook.com/nicolaprycebooks/ and https://twitter.com/npryce_author

https://www.pinterest.co.uk/nicolapryceauth/

A Report of a Haunting in Yorkshire

By Guest author

On October 23, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers,

I’ve been given permission to share a most interesting letter received by a dear friend from a lady in York regarding a topic most appropriate as we approach the Eve of All Hallows. Without further ado, I include the letter in its entirety.

My dear Lady S,

We’ve excitement in these parts–an actual haunting! My dear husband is beside himself, wishing to cast off his responsibilities and rush to the coast because of news received from the esteemed Reverend N. F.—pardon me, he is now Sir N. F.! Do you remember the dear man? He is at present compiling an encyclopedia of northern folklore. You were visiting us when he came through York with his daughter, Miss M.F., on his way to the manor he inherited.

Oh, but now I recall, you were unable to join us for dinner that night, and you would so have enjoyed such amiable guests. Miss F. is rather a great galloping spinster, hopelessly on the shelf, and shamelessly skeptical of her father’s inquiries, but entirely delightful. Sir N. is blessed to have her to care for him in his old age, and she’ll inherit the manor, as there isn’t an entail. The possibility of wealth (if the enterprise can be made profitable as he hopes) might increase the poor dear’s chance at marriage (though whether any worthy man can be found in that part of the county is questionable).

But I digress from the most exciting news. My husband has always believed that the Manor’s legendary ghostly guest is a Popish priest enclosed within the walls. However, Sir N has written that the general speculation of the villagers is that the culprit is the late Squire, who was a scandalous fiend. Sir N. inquired whether we might assist with finding servants willing to relocate to the wilds of Yorkshire, and unafraid of the resident ghost.

For indeed, there does appear to be a ghost! The priest it might be, but more than likely the villagers have the right of it—oh, you have heard the story, have you not? The last Baron, Sir N’s distant cousin, died there terribly. Of course, there’s also a very old rumor about bigamy and a stolen inheritance—a generational curse, as it were, but I cannot quite remember the details of that story.

I can only imagine that Miss F is beside herself, what with needing reliable staff. A more practical and grounded woman…a confirmed spinster, you know…could not be found. She must be such a great help to her father as he tromps about chasing goblins for his book. And yet, even while researching the supernatural, one needs the comforts of a good cook and a few maids.

I shall write more as I Iearn of it. My love to the children.

Does that not whet your appetite to learn more, dear readers? Read on!

About the Book

Thrilled to finally have a permanent home, a Squire’s daughter won’t let a supernatural creature scare her away. While hunting the ghost she doesn’t believe in, she stumbles upon a mysterious flesh and blood man who might be the key to all of her problems.

When the new Squire moves into Fenwick Manor, an ex-army officer secretly searching the sprawling medieval wreck devises a plan. First, the manor’s legendary ghost will chase servants away. Then, he’ll convince the new residents to leave.

But the Squire’s spirited daughter soon has him wondering if he might have found a perfect comrade in arms to help battle old enemies and find the proof that will clear his family name.

Buy Links:

About the Author

Award winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but she prefers the much happier world of romance. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California and hasn’t looked back. She shares a midcentury home with her husband, her spunky, blonde, rescued terrier, and the blue-eyed cat who conned his way in for dinner one day and decided the food was too good to leave.

She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. She is hard at work on her next series of Regency romances, but loves to hear from readers!

A Dispatch From the Headstone Gazette

By Guest author

On October 16, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

By A Concerned Citizen Who Wishes to Remain Anonymous

Glory be! A body must keep their ears to the ground in this part of the country. Otherwise, an innocent bystander, such as myself, might miss one of the never-ending scandals plaguing our small town — the latest of which is festering over at the Boomtown Mail Order Brides Agency.

Just this evening, one of the brothers (who co-owns the agency) arrived by train with their latest mail-order bride candidate on his very arm. On Jordan Branson’s very arm, dear citizens! According to my sources, her name is Olivia Rothschild, and she’s a shipping heiress from Boston. Now, why in heaven’s name a young woman of her vast wealth would be searching for her perfect match via the mail, is entirely beyond me! But those are the facts, my friends.

After asking a few discreet questions around Headstone, I also learned this stylish young debutante was rumored to be courting the matchmaker, himself, throughout their lengthy journey to Arizona. Oh, the horrors! To the best of my knowledge, all of this occurred without the oversight of a proper chaperone, such as a family member, a widow from church, or the like. Albeit, Miss Rothschild seems to be traveling with quite the entourage, to include no less than four individuals: her man of business, her personal maid, her chef, and a young man purported to be her chef’s younger brother — a groom-in-training or some such nonsense.

To make matters worse, one of our very own — a local rancher’s wife who has requested to remain unnamed — arrived on the same train after an extended visit to her ailing cousin back east. She claims there is a horrid rumor making its way around Boston that a certain Miss Rothschild had no choice but to flee the city or face utter ruin. If the rumor is to be believed, the high-flying debutante was witnessed sharing a kiss with the cousin of a most-eligible marquis. Alas, the two young men are not only known as capital pranksters, but they could also pass as twins. Some suspect that Miss Rothschild and her guardian might, in fact, have been plotting to entrap the marquis into marriage. If such were the case, their plot went seriously awry the moment the marquis’ rakish cousin intercepted her kiss!

Upon further investigation, I learned that Miss Rothschild and Mr. Branson have an “understanding,” one apparently that his own brother, Colt Branson does not approve of. He would have preferred his younger brother to follow agency protocol and match their latest mail-order bride with the next hopeful groom on their waiting list. Oh, the irony! Instead, it looks as if we have a case of a matchmaker falling into one of his own velvet traps.

Be assured, I will keep an eye on this developing story and report back the moment I have another juicy tidbit to share.

About the Book

Olivia Rothschild has made yet another mistake. She tries to follow the advice of her social climbing Aunt Beatrice, but she never quite plays the game of a debutante to her guardian’s satisfaction. This time, she’s kissed the wrong man — in plain view of her biggest rival, no less, who can’t wait to spread the scandalous tale. According to her aunt, she must marry the man with haste or face complete ruin.

Jordan Branson and his brother run a vastly successful mail-order bride business, but sometimes he grows a tad weary of arranging everyone else’s happily-ever-afters and never his own. He’s in just one of those moods when the wealthy heiress, Olivia, wanders into his office, utterly distraught at what her life has become after the loss of her parents. She’s desperate for a fresh start, far from the jaded social whirl of the big city.

After a short interview, he decides any man with red blood running through his veins would be overjoyed to court a woman of her wit, kindheartedness, and beauty. However, he finds himself in no terrible hurry to marry her off to the next would-be groom in line. Perhaps a compromise might be in order — one that requires him to hold off selecting her perfect match until her arrival in Arizona. He takes it a step farther and personally accompanies her since he has business in that direction, never imagining what perils of the heart the gesture would set in motion.

Available in eBook on Amazon + FREE in Kindle Unlimited at
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07YF13Q8Q
Coming soon to paperback!

Excerpt~

“Good. Let us at least shake on it tonight.” Without waiting for a response, Miss Rothschild reached for his hand.

Jordan was so surprised by the feel of her warm fingers curling around his that he acted on pure male instinct. He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his lips. “I give you my word, Miss Rothschild. I’ll get you safely to Arizona. There you will help me renew my search for my sister while I commence a search for your perfect match.”

Her answering smile warmed the darkest, loneliest corners of his heart. He should have recognized it for what it was — the smile of a spoiled, indulged debutante who’d once more gotten her way.

Instead, for the first time in a very long time, he foolishly tasted hope.

About the Author

Jo 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.

She loves to visit with readers in her Cuppa Jo Readers group on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/groups/CuppaJoReaders/.

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.

Plus you can read free chapters of many of her books on Wattpad.com/user/JoGrafford.

Innocent Lady Shocks Ton with a Scandalous Affair Involving a Duke

By Guest author

On September 25, 2019

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Dear Lovely Readers:

A shocking page of the infamous Madame Bellerose’s journal has crossed our desk. We felt it pertinent to bring this to your attention. It appears an innocent miss of the ton frequents Belle’s daily while her parents are in the country. However, the lady does not spend her time alone. From Madame Belle’s journal, a certain duke has made her his mistress. While the journal entry refers to the lady as ‘Violet’, that is not her true name. Who is this lady and her duke? Which members of the ton have been missing from society? See if you can decipher who our mystery couple may be:

May 1820

I am troubled by what I have done. With my encouragement I have persuaded ‘Violet’ to enter into a relationship of the passionate nature with S. While S has always been a close friend of mine, I worry on how he could destroy her heart. I see the connection between the two and know that this lady as innocent as she may be, is the one to bring him to his knees. The awful row I overheard this morning between them, has brought doubts to the forefront of my mind. However, when I witnessed S leave ‘Violet’s’ room, I saw how she affected him. But I also notice the sadness in Lady S’s ‘Violet’s’ eyes when she hears of S’s search for a bride. I wish she could remove the mask she wears to hide her identity and he could see the beauty that is meant for him. If they cannot share their secrets, then I fear they are doomed. Then it shall be my fault that a powerful duke ruined an innocent lady. Friend or not, we will all be ruined. I will write to Lady W to ask if she can assist me in turning this scandalous rendezvous into a courtship meant for a lady. All I ever wanted was for them to find love, not heartache.

Well readers, can you help me with whom the players in this journal entry may be? Be on the lookout for a missing duke and a lady whose parents are away in the country. From what I can tell, the duke does not know who his mystery lady is.

Whom Shall I Marry… An Earl or A Duke? (Tricking the Scoundrels #2)

An afternoon spent in disguise leads to a passion that …

She wanted to explore the promise of his kiss. He wanted to persuade her to become his mistress. Will a case of mistaken identity lead to a marriage of love?

While trying to prevent her friend from a scandal Sophia Turlington becomes entangled in her own. As she waits for her friend in a brothel, a duke mistakes her for a harlot. When he requests an arrangement, Sophia decides to explore the passion he awakens in her soul. Her only stipulations for the affair are a mask, one week, and he must never discover her true identity. Can Sophia give him her heart and walk away as if their time never affected her?

Alexander Langley’s life as a prominent duke will soon come to an end unless he can acquire a duchess whose family can support him through a scandal. When he meets a violet-eyed temptress that awakens his every desire his search comes to a halt. As they explore their passion, he loses his heart to a woman he can never marry. Will Alex put aside his status in the ton for a love to last a lifetime?

Throughout the season Lady Sophia Turlington and Alexander Langley, the Duke of Sheffield’s dislike for one another is known to all. A chance encounter throws them together as Alex and ‘Violet’. After their time ends, Sophia wants Alex to see her for herself. If not, then she might as well accept her friend’s marriage proposal. Can Alex overcome Sophia’s deceit? Or will his need for revenge destroy the love she holds for him?

Excerpt:

“Love, do you need to return home to your parents?” He kissed her shoulder as he leaned over her.
“Mmm,” Sophia moaned into the pillow.
“Violet?”
Sophia rolled over to regard Alex through her drowsy eyes. Disappointment flooded her when she saw him next to the bed, already dressed and ready to leave for the day.
“I must be off. I will have Belle arrange a carriage for your return home.”
“No bother, I shall reside here this week.”
“How will you explain this arrangement to your family? I do not wish for a scandal, my dear. While I love bedding you, I will not wed you. Do not think to trap me.”
And once again he was the arrogant duke she despised. He only considered himself and not others. Why Sophia loved him was beyond her. Her anger got the best of her as she unleashed her fury at his conceited ego. She pushed him away as she rose from the bed with the sheet wrapped around her body. She spilled her thoughts out loud, ticking them off on her fingers as her voice grew louder.
“First, I will not have to explain this arrangement to my family, because an emergency at the family estate called for my parent’s attention. Second, there will be no scandal involving you or our time together. Third, while I love bedding you also, I do not believe I have even hinted at wanting to be married to an overbearing, egotistical ass such as yourself. Fourth, I have no intention of trapping you into anything but the use of your body for the remainder of the week. Furthermore, let me make myself clear, I am too good for the likes of you. One day a ring shall be placed upon my finger, but only by a man who deserves me, and that man is not you. Now, if you will be so kind, please leave my bedroom now.”
Sophia finished her tirade standing at the door, pulling it open for him to leave. She watched as he stood across the room, glaring at her. Her foot tapped in annoyance the longer he stood there. If he didn’t leave soon, she would rip off her mask to reveal her identity. Then he could deal with who she was and how, if she wanted to trap him, she could. Her father was a powerful man in the ton. If she cried injustice at the hands of the Duke of Sheffield, he would make the duke beg for her hand in marriage.
Sheffield walked over to stand before her, staring at his wild temptress in her fit of anger. He didn’t know whether to be furious with her for addressing him in that tone, or to carry her to the bed and make love to her all day. She riled his emotions on another level. As she stood before him, the sheet slipped from her grasp as she pointed at the door for him to leave. Her tangled hair fell over her shoulders hiding her breasts from his gaze. Her body shook in anger as she continued to glare at him with those dark violet eyes that shot sparks of silver at him. While he would love to stay and turn them into passion, he was already late for an appointment. But he had time to kiss her and show her just how arrogant he was.
He pulled her into his arms and her glare intensified as she dared him to kiss her. He wore the smirk of a man who takes a dare and declares himself the winner.
Sophia knew from his stare that he wanted to ravish her lips and she would be powerless to stop him. Because angry as she was, she still desired him. Sophia wanted him to kiss her, then it would mean he desired her too. However, when his lips lowered to hers, it was the kiss of an apology. Soft. Slow. Gentle. Each brush of his lips against hers asked for forgiveness.

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About Laura A Barnes:

I am the author of The Romancing the Spies Series. When I am not writing, I am spending time with my family. I love reading books on lazy afternoons and late into the night. Anytime really. Married twenty-nine years to the love of my life, we have three wonderful children and two sweet grandbabies. Besides writing, I have always wanted to travel. In the last few years, we have gotten our passports stamped in England, Scotland, and Ireland. We are hoping to add Italy to the list soon. My debut novel is Rescued By the Captain.

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The laird denies it, but the clan hopes

By Guest author

On September 18, 2019

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

The clan was busy with planting. Even the laird—Niall MacLean was out in the fields. The laird was still healing from the death of his wife and newborn son from a little over a year earlier. Thankfully, he had stopped drowning himself in his cups. That eased the clan’s worries for their laird.

So when a boat arrived on the isle, the whole clan was thrown to the floor when Ermina Bruce pronounced that her and the Laird were married. That news alone was shocking but she was with child. She was so large with child that no one could look beyond her belly to see her beauty.

The clan couldn’t stopped talking about it. No one thought he would marry so quickly then we learned that he was handfasted with the lass to protect her and certain events followed as they do. That sounded like the man I served and stand at his side. The whole MacLean clan was hoping that love bloomed. We all saw that his wife loved him, so that was a good beginning.

Only problem was Ermina Bruce swore she’d die in childbirth. The laird couldn’t survive burying another wife.

Another thing: it seemed that the Laird couldn’t fight against feelings he had deep inside him. He told me they were friends, having grown up from childhood to adulthood together. But I knew differently, and now it was time for Ermina and Niall to learn it.

The Chieftan’s Secret

On a windswept Scottish Isle…

Many objects wash up on the shores of the rugged Isle of Mull. The Laird of Lochbuie never expected a pregnant wife to be included among the items. Honorable Niall MacLean was wed to his childhood love when she died in childbirth. Now a widower, he struggles to get beyond his grief.

Then his dear friend, Ermina Bruce pleaded for his help. His protective instinct came alive and he handfasted with Ermina to save her from an unsuitable marriage and one drunken night has led to forever after and a possible repeat of his past heartbreak.

The bonds of friendship…

Noble Ermina Bruce has loved Niall MacLean since he first fostered in her uncle’s home. But he loved another so she settled for the deep bonds of friendship. When Niall save her from that miserable fate, she never thought she would end up in his arms.

One night of passion…

That one night in Niall’s arms led to her pregnancy. Ermina has not told Niall of their secret baby. But his reaction isn’t her greatest fear. Her fear is even greater than the brave laird’s wrath. Every woman in her family has died in childbirth and all know the same fate awaits her. Once again, Ermina knows Niall is the only one who can save her. And if he fails, her last days shall be with the man she loves.

Will love have a chance to come alive?

Buy on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Chieftains-Secret-Medieval-Scottish-Romance-ebook/dp/B07SD9DKYJ/