Tag: Sherry Ewing Page 10 of 11

jan_baptist_lambrechts_attr-_-_at_the_tavern I can only say that it is a good thing Mr. Clemens located a prime investigator inside the Duchess of Haverford’s Hopeful Hearts house party because I, intrepid reporter, find myself a marooned at a third rate inn along a road that has become impassible with mud and rutted beyond use. My post chaise broke an axel in the stuff. Here I sit. Tomorrow being Christmas I will go no further for now.

The ale here is poor but abundant, and, with naught else to do, I have stationed myself in the taproom to pick up what miserable crumbs I might. I have not come up empty handed.

I no more ordered my third pint when a horseman swept in, grimaced over a mug of rancid cider, and left. Folks on horseback may travel as they will, but carriage traffic has all but disappeared. I tried to hire a horse with the pittance Clemens gives me for expenses and could not. (More about that later) This man’s horse, a peculiar specimen, stood in the courtyard looking so cool I would have thought it a fresh mount, not one that had been given water and sent on its way again.

The innkeeper acted in awe of the man who stood well over the common height and possessed both dark skin as well as hair. Unlike the innkeeper, I knew the man: he who pretends to be Elfingham, heir in waiting to the Duke of Winshire. He chases the Belvoir chit no doubt, or her brother’s consequence rather, his own being not worth a pittance. Everyone knows he is after her in hopes to shore up the family’s pretense of legitimacy. He swept from the place like the furies pursued him, dark robe flapping in the wind.

Not three hours passed when a groom came in to say a carriage lumbered up the road putting a lie to everyone’s belief that none might make it through. The greedy publican hastened to the door and the rest of the room to the windows to see who had made it so far. I watched it go by with my own eyes, a top of the trees equipage if ever I saw one. I saw the ducal crest as well: The Duke of Haverford. I doubt the old duke bothered to attend his wife’s do. Aldridge, on the other hand, can never resist a party full of beautiful women. It was he, I am certain, and there will be delicious stories to uncover, if only I can get to the Hall and insinuate myself through the kitchen.

Just when the taproom began to settle for the night, yet another carriage arrived, this one less well fated, and obviously unable to go further. A frantic young man, a cit as I live and breathe and a Hebrew—one with a French accent at that— began to berate the innkeeper, obviously desperate to get to Hollystone Hall. Why, I don’t know. No young woman of gentle enough birth to attend a duchess’s house party would entertain such a one as a suitor. I did hear him mention Baumann, the banker. Perhaps he has business with the duchess or with Aldridge. That must be it. Our readers might like to know what.

Here is the odd part. He demanded a horse, and I knew well there were none. Had the innkeeper not refused to hire one out to me? Money talks. Horses were found. Before too long he left with two nags, one a miserable hack and the other, obviously a carriage horse, with his bags loaded on it. Off he went, while I, good Christian citizen of His Majesty’s fair land that I am, remained here with naught but a bench to sleep upon.

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What happened to these holiday travelers? Find out in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, available now from various retailers. 25% of proceeds will go to the Malala Fund.

About the Book

When the Duchess of Haverford sends out invitations to a Yuletide house party and a New Year’s Eve ball at her country estate, Hollystone Hall, those who respond know that Her Grace intends to raise money for her favorite cause and promote whatever marriages she can. Eight assorted heroes and heroines set out with their pocketbooks firmly clutched and hearts in protective custody. Or are they?

About the Stories

A Suitable Husband, by Jude Knight

As the Duchess of Haverford’s companion, Cedrica Grenford is not treated as a poor relation and is encouraged to mingle with Her Grace’s guests. Surely she can find a suitable husband amongst the gentlemen gathered for the duchess’s house party. Above stairs or possibly below.

Valuing Vanessa, by Susana Ellis

Facing a dim future as a spinster under her mother’s thumb, Vanessa Sedgely makes a practical decision to attach an amiable gentleman who will not try to rule her life.

A Kiss for Charity, by Sherry Ewing

Young widow Grace, Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with a rake at a masquerade ball would make her yearn for love again. Can she learn to forgive Lord Nicholas Lacey and set aside their differences to let love into her heart?

Artemis, by Jessica Cale

Actress Charlotte Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job, Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?

The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, by Jude Knight

James must marry to please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes his heart sing, and to win her he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the home of his father’s greatest enemy.

Christmas Kisses, by Nicole Zoltack

Louisa Wycliff, Dowager Countess of Exeter wants only for her darling daughter, Anna, to find a man she can love and marry. Appallingly, Anna has her sights on a scoundrel of a duke who chases after every skirt he sees. Anna truly thinks the dashing duke cares for her, but her mother has her doubts.

An Open Heart, by Caroline Warfield

Esther Baumann longs for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?

Dashing Through the Snow, by Amy Rose Bennett

Headstrong bluestocking, Miss Kate Woodville, never thought her Christmas would be spent racing across England with a viscount hell-bent on vengeance. She certainly never expected to find love…

BUY LINKS for HOLLY AND HOPEFUL HEARTS

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A Woman’s Tears

By Sherry Ewing

On October 28, 2016

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

590px-sir_humphry_davy_bt_by_thomas_phillips Lord Nicholas Lacy waited but an instant in his bedroom until he decided it was in his best interests to follow his wife. Juliette had wasted little time making her way down into the foyer. From the top of the stairs, he watched whilst she linked arms with her sister, Genevieve, and their mother and began ushering them to the door with a hasty comment of joining them shortly in their carriage.

She turned back towards the servant and reached for her gloves, practically snapping them into place in her frustration. She must have sensed his presence on the stairway for her head rose, along with one delicate arched brow. She was miffed at him and he deserved it. This was not the first time that business had taken him away from their plans.

Nicholas descended the stairs and held out a hand to the maid who gladly turned his wife’s pelisse over to him. He placed the garment over her shoulders before turning her to face him. She refused to look at him but it took only a gentle touch of his fingers skimming her cheek until she raised her eyes, brimming with unshed tears. They had always been his downfall.

Placing a kiss upon her forehead, he pulled her into his embrace and held her. Her resolve weakened with a heavy sigh as she, too, wrapped her arms around his waist. “Please come with us, Nicholas,” she begged, resting her head upon his chest.

“I will be just two days behind, my dearest. Surely you can enjoy your sister’s and mother’s company until we are reunited? Such a parting will not be that long,” he murmured breathing in the heavenly scent of roses that lingered in her hair. Since the foyer had become empty, with the exception of the two of them, he began nibbling at her neck. If only he were able to reconsider.

juliette-pauline-de-remusat Juliette lifted her head to stare upon him. “You promised…” she whispered, and it tore at his heart to see his beautiful wife so miserable. Rising on the tips of her toes, she kissed him before he could find a way to answer her when all he really wished to do was carry her back upstairs.

He heard her quiet moan and broke off their kiss before he forgot himself. “Juliette…” Her name passed his lips like a soft caress whilst his heart flipped within his chest.

“Je t’aime, Nicholas.” Her soft French accent rushed across his soul causing him to shiver in delight to hear his own name and words of love pour from her delectable mouth like the sweetest of wines.

“And I love you, ma chère,” he responded, pressing another kiss upon her parted lips. He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and began escorting her towards the door. “You shall have two days of shopping to your heart’s content without me getting in the way. Surely, that will make you happy?”

“Shopping is not what makes me happy, Nicolas, and you know it. I would rather an hour in your company than two days spent purchasing a bunch of things that truly hold no meaning.”

“Do not be cross with me, Juliette. Before you know it, I will be right by your side so you may once more enjoy my sparkling wit and conversation.”

Juliette pulled on his arm to halt their progress before she thrust two fingers towards his face. “Two days, Nicolas, and not a day more, or I will return here to the countryside and retrieve you myself.”

Nicholas chuckled. “Of course, my dear,” he agreed.

They made their way outside whilst their daughter, Blanche, climbed down from the carriage after giving her aunt and grandmother hugs. After Juliette made herself comfortable in the carriage, Nicholas and his daughter wished them all safe travels and waved goodbye. The vision of his wife blowing them a kiss through the window would haunt Nicholas for many years to come. Regret was a terrible thing to have to live with.

a-kiss-for-charity-pic-meme

This is an original piece and prequel to A Kiss for Charity, a Regency novella within the Bluestocking Belles upcoming box set, Holly and Hopeful Hearts, to be released November 8, 2016. It is available for pre-order for $2.99 at online retailers. 25% of the proceeds benefit the Belles’ mutual charity the Malala Fund.

Buy Links:

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Sherry Ewing 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:

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Laid Siege to her Castle… and her Heart

By Aunt Augusta

On October 17, 2016

In Ask Aunt Augusta, Teatime Tattler

Ask Aunt Augusta

Dear Aunt Augusta,

I am in a conundrum and require your advice. I am beginning to have feelings for the very man who has laid siege to my castle. He fills my head both night and day and I canna seem to help myself. Please help me, Aunt Augusta, afore I do something horrible and reveal my true identity to a man I should consider my enemy.

Signed,

Amiria of Clan McLaren and Berwyck Castle, the heroine of If My Heart Could See You by Sherry Ewing

Dearest Amiria,

Oh, dear! Your castle is under siege? I do so hope you are quite safe behind your walls! And I do not merely mean the walls of your castle but also the walls of your heart.

I think, Amiria, that perhaps it might be best for you to endeavor to determine what it is you want and what it is that he wants. Without a doubt, you two are at odds with one another. Strangely, but it has happened to many times before for it to be ignored, people who cannot be more different find themselves becoming a match that serves rather nicely.

You do not give enough details about him for me to understand enough, but that he fills your head both night and day — that I do understand. Preoccupation of the mind like this does suggest deep feelings.

My suggestion is to tread carefully, both with your castle and with your heart. Perhaps you both need to talk in order to settle matters on both accounts.

I wish you the very best,

Aunt Augusta

If My Heart Could See You by Sherry Ewing

When you’re enemies, does love have a fighting chance?

http://www.SherryEwing.com

~~~

Dear authors, if ever you should find that one of your characters has found him or herself in a rather trying position, whether in matters of the heart or matters of fashion or any matter at all, do be a kind soul and write to me. I will endeavor to answer your questions, if you but pen them for me.

Wedding Night Jitters

By Sherry Ewing

On August 27, 2016

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

Edmund_Blair_Leighton_-_signing_the_register

Grace, Lady de Courtenay gazed around the room at their wedding guests. Everyone was having a marvelous time and Grace had never been happier. One man, in particular, drew her attention. How could he not? She could hardly believe she was married, let alone to her second cousin. Relation or not, she had always held an affection for him and obviously the feelings had been reciprocated considering they were now man and wife. Her father may have protested that she was too young to wed when Adrian first offered for her, but both her parents knew that the marriage would be advantageous to both families.

Adrian must have felt her stare for he turned from the gentleman he had been speaking with and gave her a smile that spoke a thousand words and more. Her heart fluttered within her chest wondering what was in store for her this evening when the night would finally allow them the privacy of their bedchamber. Her mother had prepared her for the inevitable, but that did not help the nervous knots that formed in the pit of her belly. He is just so handsome, Grace thought, before she became lost in the memory of when his lips touched hers for the very first time. She had known, in that instant, she would be forever lost. Her fate had been sealed the day she happily accepted his offer of marriage.

Grace watched when her husband excused himself and began making his way across the crowded room. He was a gentleman that any lady would be glad to call her own. Tall, broad shouldered, with hair as dark as the midnight skies, along with piercing blue eyes that could rival a clear summer day. This was no idle gentleman of leisure, as his physical appearance would attest, and he was all hers. Grace snapped her fan open and began to wave it before her flushed face. Did the temperature of the room increase the closer he came to her side? Her knees began to buckle with each step he took. She reached for the settee directly behind her until she was able to sit. She could not miss his eyes twinkling mischievously as though he knew her inner most thoughts. The rogue, she pondered, hiding her own grin behind her fan when he at last stood before her.

Admiration painting by Vittorio Reggianini not PD Adrian leaned over to pull out one of the pristine white roses in a nearby vase before sitting down next to her. He traced the petals of the flower across her cheek. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with being chilled. No, far from it. She was burning with a need that only her husband could satisfy. His lips replaced the rose and she wished with all her might that their wedding supper was at an end so her husband could put her out of her misery.

“I missed you,” he whispered huskily in her ear.

She gave a light laugh, snapped her fan shut, and playfully tapped his arm with it. “I was hardly far, my love.”

“You were much too far for my liking, my dearest. If I could, I would keep you ever close to my side.”

“That would certainly give society something to talk about in the morning,” she replied wishing for nothing more than to be alone with him, especially when he began nibbling at her ear. “Adrian, you must stop. What will people think?”

“They will think that I am madly in love with my beautiful young bride, which, of course, I am,” he declared handing her the flower.

She peered around him to watch several gentlemen frown in their direction. “We are being watched, and it appears they are not pleased with our public display of affection, darling.”

“I do not care what they think. Besides, we are celebrating our union. Maybe they will remember when they were also in a state of wedded bliss,” he answered and then proceeded to kiss her cheek. The sound of louder than average laughter caused Adrian to turn to stare at the crowd, which began to disperse after having been caught staring rudely at the bride and groom. “Why am I suddenly under the impression that people are sniggering behind our backs?”

Several people continued whispering to one another and Grace could only imagine what their conversation entailed. She tugged on her husband’s sleeve and he leaned over to hear her whispered words. “Do not give them the satisfaction of letting them know you are cross.”

“I am not cross.”

“You are frowning.” Grace giggled.

“At least I have you smiling and that is what matters most,” he stated with another warm smile. “You have honored me this day by becoming my wife, Grace.”

He kissed her parted lips, apparently not caring that all of society was watching their every move. Grace sighed in pleasure. “I am the one who is honored, Adrian, but if we can find a way to remain out of the latest edition of the Teatime Tattler it will be a miracle.”

“That gossip rag that is taking all of London by storm? What could they possibly find interesting in the news that we are married, my dear?” Adrian stood to watch their guests again then pulled her to stand beside him. He placed his arm around her for support.

Grace leaned into his embrace taking comfort when his arm tightened around her. “We are the talk of the town, darling. How you do not know this is beyond me. It is not every day that a woman marries a man with exactly the same given and family name as her brother, never mind that he is her second cousin. Let us not even go into the confusion of your title being the same as our family name, so that all that changes with our wedding is that I become Lady de Courtenay instead of Lady Grace de Courtenay.”

Adrian chuckled, apparently amused by the whole situation. “Is that all?”

Grace looked up at his face and laughed. “Well if you do not care that we are being talked about then neither will I. I am sure half the people here already doubt your sanity in marrying an educated woman.”

Adrian’s brow rose at her implication. “They might just learn a thing or two about the advantages of having a woman who speaks her mind as a wife.” He perused the crowd again until a truly wicked gleam entered his eyes.

“I am afraid to ask what you are thinking,” Grace said. He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow.

Adrian only took a few steps before he swooped her up into his arms. “Since we will most likely be in tomorrow’s edition anyway, we might as well give them something to talk about.”

640px-The_Duchess_of_Richmond's_Ball_by_Robert_Alexander_Hillingford He began carrying her from the wedding reception. Before they left, he turned around at the entryway to the ballroom to face their startled guests. He somehow managed a short bow. “Please enjoy the rest of the festivities. Grace and I are in need of…”

Grace muffled a laugh as Adrian left his words lingering in the air. She heard gasps of shock from the ballroom as her husband took the stairs two at a time. Reaching their room, he closed the door to their wedding suite. As Adrian set her down upon her feet, Grace looked forward to finally becoming Adrian’s wife in every sense of the word. In the months to come, she would relive and treasure each and every moment with her husband, after an unforeseen tragedy destroys her world.

This is an original piece and prequel to A Kiss for Charity, a Regency novella within the Bluestocking Belles upcoming box set, Holly and Hopeful Hearts, to be released November 15, 2016.

_DSF0006 Sherry Ewing 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:

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A not so casual stroll in the park

By Sherry Ewing

On July 30, 2016

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

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

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Street Team