Tag: Regency romance Page 44 of 47

A not so casual stroll in the park

On July 30, 2016

image for Cassandra

Mrs. Cassandra Vaughn adjusted her wrap about her shoulders and peered ahead on the path of the tree-lined park. Was it only just yesterday that her lover, Neville Quinn, Earl of Drayton, had ended their association? It seemed he had wasted no time and was in a hurry to find her replacement. She watched the couple ahead of her continue their casual stroll. If her eyes did not mistake her, Cassandra’s rival for Drayton’s attention was none other than Lady Gwendolyn Sandhurst, sister to the Duke of Ashbury and his younger brother Lord Brandon Worthington. Drayton would be treading dangerous waters if he were to trifle with a married woman. If the woman’s husband did not call him out, her brothers certainly would!

583px-Thomas_Gainsborough_-_The_Mall_in_St._James's_Park_-_Google_Art_Project

“Why are we walking when there is a perfectly fine carriage waiting for us to ride in?” Mrs. Patience Moore complained bitterly.

Cassandra strained her neck to peer at the bend in the trail up ahead, wishing the trees out of her line of sight so she could see what Drayton was up to. Another tug on her sleeve brought her attention back to her companion. Patience Moore had no patience whatsoever, but had been a dear friend when she had most needed one after she lost her husband. That they were both on the lookout for their next benefactor was reason enough for a walk in the park where they could check out any new prospects. A widow down on her luck sometimes resorted to unpleasant and difficult situations beyond those she had been raised to.

“I needed to stretch my legs. The walk will do us good,” Cassandra finally answered but sighed in frustration when Patience went to a nearby tree to remove a pebble from her shoe. Now she had lost sight of the man. She must be losing her mind. Why in the world was she following him in the first place?

“Honestly, Cassandra, I did not mean for my feet to suffer such abuse today. These shoes were not made for traipsing about in the woods, dear.” Patience adjusted her bonnet, linked her arm through Cassandra’s, and urged her onward. “If we must continue, let us be quick about it so we can get back to your driver and enjoy our outing from the comfort of a padded seat.”

The Thread of Love without watermark As they rounded the bend that had obstructed her view of Drayton’s whereabouts, Cassandra skidded to a very unladylike halt and pushed Patience behind a tree. Her eyes narrowed with jealousy, although why such an emotion seemed to be plaguing her she could not say. They had made no commitment to one another nor expressed words of love. Their relationship had been a convenience for them both. Why, then, did Cassandra’s heart feel as though it were being stabbed with a knife when she observed Drayton carrying Lady Sandhurst in his arms before depositing her on a park bench?

“Is that not─” Patience began.

“Yes.”

“Are you not still with him?”

“Not as of yesterday.” Cassandra’s reply was so quiet the sound was almost lost on the wind. “I have seen enough. Shall we return to the carriage?” She could not keep herself from one last glance at Neville. She should have refrained, since her heart lurched yet again when he once more picked up the lady.

Not caring whether or not Patience followed her, Cassandra hastily cut through the trees to reach the main walkway of the park. Looking for her driver, she saw none other than Lord Brandon Worthington driving his own rig, as if she conjured him up . He slowed the team of horses as he came nearer and gave her a brilliant smile. An encouraging sign if Cassandra ever saw one. Perhaps the day had not been such a waste after all. He had just pulled the carriage to a halt and tipped his hat when she heard Lord Brandon’s name being called. With a hasty apology, he flicked the reins and Cassandra watched as Drayton deposited the gentleman’s sister inside the rig. They were gone before she had even had a chance to catch her breath.

She was occupied with thoughts of Lord Brandon being the next handsome gentleman to warm her bed, when her driver came abreast of them. After accepting assistance from her footman, she rearranged her dress and she relaxed in her carriage. As the team began to move, she groaned aloud. There on the walk was none other than Samuel Clemmons, editor of that nasty Teatime Tattler gossip rag, scribbling away on a note pad. She wondered for the remainder of the night what page she would find her name upon come the following day.

_DSF0006 This is an original piece with characters from Sherry Ewing’s work in progress, Nothing But Time. Sherry picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical & time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. Always wanting to write a novel but busy raising her children, she finally took the plunge in 2008 and wrote her first Regency. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Beau Monde & the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry is currently working on her next novel and when not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry’s work here on her page with the Bluestocking Belles or on the following social media outlets:

Website & Books
Bookbub
Facebook
Goodreads
Pinterest
Twitter

Sign Me Up!
Newsletter
Street Team

Tale of a Tattling Clergyman

By Guest author

On July 20, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Bluestocking belles 483px-'Reverend_Joseph_Stevens_Buckminster,_D.D.'_by_Gilbert_Stuart,_Cincinnati Mr. Clements,

After much soul-searching, and with great reluctance of spirit, I find I must give in to your entreaties and share the details of that most shocking event which you probed me about after services Sunday last. The sad details I have confirmed, and though I have no wish to hasten a lady’s descent into perfidy by exposing her true identity to the world, relating these events in your publication will, I trust, provide a cautionary tale for young women readers everywhere.

As I described to you, a young lady under my pastoral care (I shall call her “Miss M”) has involved herself in a sordid situation. Having known Miss M for over a twelvemonth, and her elderly relative for more, it was my most considered duty to shepherd the young woman. Nay, upon the demise of her relative, I even offered that most honorable of states, matrimony, for though the lady’s means are limited, she is a most comely and, I believed, well-bred creature.

Alas, I fear that an excess of sentiment clouded Miss M’s judgment. She embroiled herself in the activities of a female who runs, in her very home, a kind of shelter for the offspring of women who have fallen. With no shame, I count it as a blessing from the Almighty that Miss M declined my suit, and you shall hear why.

At Christmastide Miss M traveled to an outlying inn and involved herself in a most heathen undertaking, a Wife Sale! I know not how or why she came to know of this auction, but it is perfectly reflective of the state of her mind. Had I known of her intent, I would, as her spiritual adviser, have stepped in and stopped this most dangerous scheme.

For you see, the worst has happened. Not only was the object of this mercantile image for Bluestocking Belles post Sampson_Vryling_Stoddard_Wilder event delivered into an adulterous union, Miss M, I fear, is Lost, having fallen like the mothers of the children she ministered to into the hands of an upstart, Lord C, reputed to be a man of great wealth and poor moral repute. It is said, she has even been residing with him these many days without benefit of wedlock!

I fear that Miss M has descended to the fate of so many young women unsupervised by father or brother, given to vanity and excessive sensibility, and unwilling to accept the guidance of those more prudent. Whether matrimony shall ensue…well, that is anyone’s guess, but even if it does, I fear she is lost to all respectable society.

Let this be a lesson to any young reader who comes across this story.

With regards,

I shall only sign myself “A Clergyman”

About Rosalyn’s Ring By Alina K. Field

When a young woman is put up for auction in a wife sale, Rosalyn Montagu seizes the chance to rescue her—and to recover a treasured family heirloom, her father’s signet ring. Her plans are thwarted by the newly anointed Viscount Cathmore who finds her provoking beauty, upper crust manner, and larcenous streak intriguing. Her secrets rouse his jaded heart, including the truth of her identity—she is the woman whose home he has usurped. But more mysteries swirl around Rosalyn’s past, and Cathmore is just the man to help her uncover the truth.

~excerpt~

She looked at him earnestly. “Will Mr. Logan raise this little one as his own?” she asked in a worried whisper. “Properly?”

He nodded. “He will.”

She blinked back tears and studied young William. “A boy needs a father. A girl, too. Even the ones born on the wrong side of the sheets.”

His breath left him a moment. She was not, like so many of the philanthropist matrons, a condescending patron of the poor.

“Rosalyn. Why are you not married?”

Her eyes glinted. “Why are you not?”

He smiled, and her face fell. “Or are you, sir?”

“I am not. And you are not. We are both unmarried. I asked you first and you must answer first. That is the rule.”

She turned that over in her head, but answered anyway. “I had offers.” Her nose wrinkled with distaste. “All from clergymen associated with the orphanage. I did not marry them because we did not suit.”

He felt a sense of relief. “Why ever not? I should think a good-hearted maiden like yourself and a clergyman would suit quite well.”

“I did not love any of them, which, I know, practical people say is not important. But besides that, they did not love the children. No, no, they did not like the children. I’ll grant you, some of the children are so hardened they are difficult to like, but they did not like a one of them, not even the babies. They looked at them as, as, offal, trash. I could not abide a man who would claim to serve a child born in a stable and then throw away another child because he or she was base-born.”

“So why were they there?” He lifted a tendril of her hair. “For this, I suppose?”

She blushed hot red, and the air crackled between them.

“It is your turn to tell,” she said. “Why are you not married? You are rich, titled, and handsome.”

“Do you think I am handsome, Rosalyn?” He twirled the tendril of hair in his fingers.

Her brow creased. “Do not be coy, Cathmore. You know you are a handsome devil, even though, or perhaps especially because, you look like a bloody pirate.”

Hamish laughed, startled that such profanity had come from such a pretty mouth. “My lady,” he said in feigned shock. “Your language!”

You can find it on Amazon

About the Author

Award winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but she found her true passion in reading and writing romance. Though her roots are in the Midwest, 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 and a 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 the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner in the novella category, Rosalyn’s Ring, a Regency novella, the novel-length sequel, a 2015 RONE Award finalist, Bella’s Band, both Soul Mate Publishing releases, and a prequel novella, Liliana’s Letter, a 2016 National Reader’s Choice Award finalist.

Visit her at:

http://alinakfield.com/
https://www.facebook.com/alinakfield
https://twitter.com/AlinaKField
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173518.Alina_K_Field
https://www.pinterest.com/alinakf/
https://www.instagram.com/alinak.field/

Biscuits and Tea with a Side of Questions

By Aunt Augusta

On July 9, 2016

In Nicole Zoltack, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

b5d29f087f038a11e7949613308a1f1a Sage gathered some biscuit and tea for the guests. Using her shoulder, she nudged the door open. She smiled at her lady, the strange but kind Katia who did not seem to quite belong to this day and time.

Trying not to be overly intrusive, she couldn’t help but listen to the conversation her lady and her friends were having.

Lady Theodosia pointed to the page. “As always, Aunt Augusta has wonderful advice. Love can be hard sometimes, but if it is meant to be, it will find a way.”

Lady Anna smiled. “And have you found love?”

Lady Theodosia brought her cup to her mouth, but Sage spied her now-pink cheeks.

“Does anyone have a guess as to who Aunt Augusta is?” Katia asked. She murmured her appreciation to Sage for the tea.

Sage was curious herself. Katia had been teaching her how to read, and Sage enjoyed reading the column herself. As to who was the one dispensing the advice, Sage had no idea.

Neither, as it turned out, did any of the ladies gathered.

“She has to be old,” Miss Eliza put forth. “She seems rather knowledge.”

“Yes. And someone who must have experienced a great love,” Lady Vanessa said with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Why else would she be such a proponent for love? I do agree.” Lady Theodosia nodded and helped herself to a biscuit.

“Married then,” Katia said.

“Or else a widow,” Sage commented without thinking.

“True,” Katia mused, as always seemingly unmindful of today’s customs. Sage knew she shouldn’t have spoken; Katia never cared. “Although that is a tragic thought, so hopefully she is still with her love.”

For a time, the ladies conversed and even ventured names, but not one of them could figure out the mystery. Perhaps one day it would be resolved, but until then…

Sage brought forth some parchment and quills and had to smile when she saw each lady surreptitiously fetch one. I wager that Aunt Augusta will be getting a letter from each soon enough.

Will I ever have cause to send one myself?

~~~

Sage and Katia are from The Test of Time, Lady Theodosia from Masked Love, Lady Vanessa from Love Before Honor, and Miss Eliza from Joy to the World. Lady Anna will have her story told in Christmas Kisses, which will be included in this year’s Bluestocking Belles’ boxed set.

Thetestoftimesmall Katia jumps at the chance to go to England with her best friend after Rose ditches her deadbeat boyfriend. While walking through the market, she spies a large mansion and recognizes the guy out front as her high school friend Tony. Just as they start to reconnect, Katia passes through times and lands in the arms of Lord Landon, who looks like Tony but certainly doesn’t act like him.

Soon, Katia learns that this 1815 is different from the one in history books. Trapped in a parallel world, Katia struggles to not fall for Landon but his charm proves too much for her. Just when she is about to confess her love for him, Katia travels through time yet again.

The course of love never did run smooth and if Katia can’t figure out and master the test of time, she’ll never see her friends again, or worse, never be reunited with Landon.

Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Kobo ~ iBooks

Nicole is one of the Belles. You can learn more about her here.

Yet More Shocking Behaviour from London’s Most Scandalous Libertine…

By Guest author

On June 29, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler, Uncategorized

Special to the Teatime Tattler~

Like many of you, I have followed the outrageous shenanigans of Mr Ross Jameson over the last few years with growing concern. It beggars belief how a man with such low-born and repellent connections has wheedled his way into society and I fear for all of our futures if this is a sign of things to come. Surely other see what his crass behaviour clearly implies?

Jameson, as we all know, is little more than an upstart from the slums, the son of a tavern wench and a notorious forger. By his own admission, he hauled cargo at the filthy London docks and probably still consorts with the sort of criminals who thrive there. How is it possible that such a man is welcomed into the homes of the great and the good? I was scandalized when his application to join White’s Gentleman’s Club was approved, although if every terrible story we hear about the man is to be believed, I daresay the other members feared his dreadful retribution if they refused him entry.

It is well known that he ruins other men. Why, only last year he charmed the unwitting Earl of Runcorn into partaking in an innocent card game, then manipulated the poor fellow into wagering the deeds of his own house. Poor Runcorn never stood a chance against the vile trickster and lost it all. Unsurprisingly, in his shock and grief, the unfortunate earl blew his own brains out immediately afterwards in the lobby of White’s!

Since then, other horrors have come to light. Every week there is a new story about Jameson in the gossip columns. Sordid tales of gambling, debauchery, the cuckolding unsuspecting husbands, confidence tricks and worse. Have you heard about what happened with not one, but TWO! Opera dancers at Convent Garden? Suffice to say, the exact particulars are too outrageous even for this publication, but it involved the shameless seduction of BOTH women at the same time!

There is even talk that he sold his own criminal father down the river in order to claim the reward from the authorities! Whilst I do not now, and never could, condone forgery as a profession, what sort of man betrays his own kin for financial reward?

And to make matters worse, Jameson does not show any remorse for having the blood of at least two men on his hands. He swans around town as if he has a divine right to mix with his betters. I am now reliably informed he intends to live in the beautiful country house he swindled from the deceased Earl of Runcorn, where, no doubt, he will quickly turn my beloved Barchester Hall into a brothel or gaming hell, or some other scandalous den of inequity. We cannot allow this travesty to happen! He must be stopped before he ruins more lives.

He might dress and sound like a respectable gentleman, but mark my words, one day that despicable rogue will hang from the gibbet! And I will happily swing on his legs!

Kind regards

Lady H___

About That Despicable Rogue

A lady’s mission of revenge…

Lady Hannah Steers has three reasons to loathe and despise Ross Jameson. He’s a scandalous libertine, he stole her home and he was responsible for the death of her brother!

Determined to expose Ross for the rogue he is, Hannah dons a disguise and infiltrates his home as his new housekeeper. Unfortunately, this scoundrel proves himself to be the epitome of temptation and, instead of building a case against him, Hannah finds herself in a position she never expected…falling head over heels in love with him.

~Excerpt~

Hannah schooled her features into a neutral mask to cover her disgust at being with him. She had heard Jameson was a shocking libertine, but she had not expected to be confronted with such overwhelming evidence of his debauchery straight away. The sight of the rumpled bedclothes and the overpainted woman wantonly sprawled across them, skirts raised suggestively to her knees, had been bad enough- but then her eyes had encountered their first sight of Ross Jameson, and that had been frankly outrageous.

He was a huge bear of a man- showing far more exposed skin than a gentleman would deem proper. Of course, a gentleman would not have the body of a farm labourer either. Jameson was solid and muscled-a sure sign of his coarse upbringing. Men of class were more willowy and less… sturdy. He probably looked ridiculous stuffed into a tailored coat. She supposed the less discerning women would describe his tousled black hair and twinkling green eyes as handsome, but he used those good looks to his advantage.

He appeared to Hannah exactly what he was- a charming, dangerous and duplicitous rogue. She certainly would not trust him as far as she could throw him- which, she conceded, was not likely to be very far…

About the Author

Virginia Heath lives on the outskirts of London with her understanding husband and two, less understanding, teenagers. After spending years teaching history, she decided to follow her dream of writing for Harlequin. Now she spends her days happily writing regency romances, creating heroes that she falls in love with and heroines who inspire her. When she isn’t doing that, Virginia likes to travel to far off places, shop for things that she doesn’t need or read romances written by other people.

Amazon link: http://amzn.to/2431qYN

Website: http://www.virginiaheathromance.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/VirginiaHeath_

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/virginiaheathauthor

Vanessa’s Dilemma

By Susana Ellis

On June 24, 2016

In Regency (19th century Britain), Susana Ellis, Teatime Tattler

April 1810, Piccadilly Street, London

“Vanessa! So this is where you’ve got to! Mama is beyond vexed with you for slipping away during my fitting!”

Hatchard’s Bookshop, Piccadilly Street

Vanessa’s head jerked back as she slammed the book shut with a definitive smack and gaped at her younger sister, whose pixie-like appearance was contradicted by the sharp tone of her voice.

“I’m so sorry. I only meant to find a new book. What time is it? Surely I haven’t been here more than ten minutes or so.”

Eugenia rolled her emerald green eyes, her arms crossed over her chest. “We’ve been searching for you more than half an hour. Mama had to reschedule your fitting since Madame LaFleur had another appointment.”

She dropped her arms and reached into her reticule for a handkerchief. “Really, Vanessa, I know it must be difficult for you to look forward to my wedding in view of the fact that you are my older sister, but can you not at least make the effort to avoid antagonizing our mother? You know how she gets when things don’t go her way. The entire house will be in an uproar and there will be no peace for anyone.”

She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, and Vanessa, overcome with contrition for her behavior and compassion for her sister, rose to embrace her, the book carefully laid on the bench.

“I am so sorry, Genie. I don’t mean to be so ungenerous. Of course I am delighted at the news of your betrothal. You and Reese are perfect for each other, and you deserve a magnificent wedding. Please forgive me for being so thoughtless! It’s just that—you and Mama were busy with the modiste and I thought I could just slip out for a moment to see if Hatchard’s had any new novels.” She swallowed. “The time got away from me.”

Eugenia stroked her hair gently. “I know this can’t be easy for you, my dear. Not after what happened in the past. I almost feel guilty for finding my own happiness so quickly and unexpectedly when you have had to endure so much.” She stepped back and grasped Vanessa’s shoulders, looking at her directly. “Wedding aside, it’s time for you to move ahead with your life. Find some worthwhile occupation… a charity, perhaps. Something to get you out of the house before Mother’s constant carping makes you fit for Bedlam.”

Vanessa wanted to argue that she was doing well enough without her sister’s advice, but the lie just wouldn’t fall off her tongue. Slinking off to her bedchamber at every opportune moment to bury herself in books and write bad poetry was not really much of a life. Especially not with having to endure her mother’s constant nagging about her appearance, her unmarried state, and her bluestocking tendencies. Eugenia and their mother’s obsessive devotion to her had made life at Sedgely House bearable; once Eugenia was whisked off to Hertfordshire with her gentleman-farmer husband, Mrs. Sedgely’s attention would be focused entirely on remaking her disappointing older daughter.

She leaned in and kissed her sister on the cheek. “You constantly amaze me, little sister. Just seventeen and not only are you about to become a bride, but you have the maturity and wisdom to offer your spinster sister some excellent advice. If I involve myself in some worthwhile charity, perhaps Mama will give up pestering me to find a husband.”

Eugenia threw back her head and laughed. “I assure you she will never give up that particular pleasure. But at least you will have the opportunity to escape the house and her badgering, and at the same time do some good for the unfortunate.” She chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “No doubt you will meet a great deal of interesting ladies—and gentlemen—and who knows what will happen from there?”

Vanessa grinned, aiming a playful swat at Eugenia’s upper arm. “You mustn’t hold your breath. No doubt any gentlemen involved in such schemes are stout, white-haired solicitors old enough to be my father.”

“But they may have eligible sons,” her sister suggested with a smile. “In any case, you will make the acquaintance of many worthy individuals that you might never have encountered in the ballrooms of the ton. People who value more in life than simply wealth and titles.”

“Mother will hate that. You know she has always aspired to have lofty connections.”

“My Reese is a squire’s son, a gentleman farmer. No title. No more than moderately well-to-do. Besides, she can’t but recall the mess that occurred with your betrothal to a baron’s son.” Seeing Vanessa’s face whiten, she grasped a hand and squeezed it. “Now don’t keep berating yourself over it, Vanessa. It was years ago, and it wasn’t your fault he ran off to Scotland with a milkmaid. You didn’t love each other. You agreed to the betrothal only to please Mama.”

Vanessa drew a deep, calming breath and smiled shakily. “True. I’m so glad that you were able to find and fight for your true love, Genie. Your Reese is a fortunate man to have won so wise a wife.”

Eugenia flushed. “Just between you and me, I haven’t the faintest idea how to be a wife. I shouldn’t want Reese to become disappointed with me.”

Vanessa shook her head. “That man loves you, Genie. I’m sure he worships every part of you, right down to your toenails.”

“My toenails?” Eugenia’s giggles reverberated through the shop, and the slender gentleman behind the counter sent them a stern look.

“Along with the other parts of you he hasn’t seen yet,” Vanessa continued. “He hasn’t, has he?”

Eugenia tilted her head as she reflected on it. “No, I don’t think so. Not my toenails, at any rate.” She bit her lip. “But seriously, Vanessa, I do have some concerns. Not about Reese, but about a childhood friend of his, the earl’s daughter from a neighboring estate. When we went to call upon her the other day, I could see that the news of our engagement was a devastating blow to her.”

“Ah yes, Lady Theresa Granville. She had her presentation the year before mine. I heard about her, but she’s been absent from the social scene since.”

“That’s because she’s completely fixated on farming, maybe even more so than Reese is. They’re constantly together talking about agricultural nonsense, and the truth is, I’ve done nothing more than arrange cut flowers from the garden. I could study farming every day and never have as much knowledge as she has in her little finger.”

“Ah, but Reese chose you. He’s had years to propose to her and chose not to do so. I’m quite sure he doesn’t expect you to turn into Lady Theresa.”

Eugenia smiled shakily. “I hope you’re right. I know he loves me. I just hope I can persuade Lady Theresa to accept me as Reese’s wife. Her friendship is important to him—to both of them, really—and I should really dislike to be the reason it came to an end.”

Vanessa squeezed her sister’s hand. “She’ll learn to love you, my dear. Everyone does, when they get to know you.”

The shop door opened noisily, and a scowling gentleman peered in.

“Excuse me, ladies, but is that your carriage holding up traffic in the street? The lady inside has been waving her umbrella out the window for quite some time.”

“Mama!”

Both girls stared at each other in horror before they raced to the door of the bookshop and shakily boarded the carriage, mumbling apologies that went unheard as Mrs. Sedgely railed at them relentlessly.

Vanessa leaned her head against the squabs and closed her eyes.

Genie is right. I need to take charge of my life. Now… how shall I go on from here?

About Treasuring Theresa

Theresa Cover Front 200x310 WEB Lady Theresa despises London society. What’s worse is that she has to attend the betrothal ball of the young man she expected to marry. To deflect all the pitiful glances from the other guests, she makes a play for the most striking gentleman there—who happens to be her Cousin Damian, who is everything she despises.

Damian, Lord Clinton sees a desperate young lady with no social graces, and it solidifies his opinion that country folk are beneath him. But it so happens that he is the heir to that young lady’s father’s title and estate, and the time comes when he finds himself obliged to spend some time there.

Thrown together, both Damian and Theresa discover each other’s hidden depths. But are their differences too much to overcome to make a successful match?

Treasuring Theresa is Book 1 of The Hertfordshire Hoydens series. Originally published in the Blush Cotillion line at Ellora’s Cave, Treasuring Theresa has been re-released with a brand new cover by the fabulous Mari Christie. Book 2, Cherishing Charlotte, will be coming in the autumn, and Book 3, Valuing Vanessa, will appear in the Bluestocking Belles’ next holiday anthology.

Treasuring Theresa was a finalist in the 2013 EPIC Awards.

Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Kobo • iBooks

About the Author

Susana has always had stories in her head waiting to come out, especially when she learned to read and her imagination began to soar. Voracious reading led to a passion for writing, and her fascination with romance and people of the past landed her firmly in the field of historical romance.

A teacher in her former life, Susana lives in Toledo, Ohio in the summer and central Florida in the winter. She is a member of the Central Florida Romance Writers and the Beau Monde chapters of RWA and Maumee Valley Romance Inc.

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Newsletter