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Von Tempsky: A Newspaperman? Really?

December 1863, Auckland, New Zealand

It has been heard about Auckland Town that Mr. von Tempsky, that intrepid adventurer, (and don’t try to tell me that a man who has fought in the jungles of South America would ever truly settle to such a staid existence as being merely a newspapermen, even in as wild a place as the mining towns of the Coromandel), a newly made commander in the Colonial Army, is currently involved in the rescue of a female settler-to-be somewhere in the wild Hunua Ranges, to the south of our good town.


This female, they say (and I hesitate to call her a lady, or perhaps even a person of womanly means), has made her way, alone, all the way from the feral East Coast of our fair land to Auckland, riding a wild Indian pony. It appears she had finally, after some searching, found Mr. von Tempsky, an acquaintance of her husband, after riding (swimming?) her Mustang across the large swamps between the town of Thames and Pukorokoro, (at the Miranda Redoubt). The good commander, in the middle of his preparation for war against the wild men of the Waikato, had rightly sent her north to abide in safety with his wife and children. However, after some bungling by the men sent to guide and protect her, it appears the girl has disappeared—and foul play is suspected.

Awaiting the news with bated breath, I remain,

Yours, etc.

Mr. Samuel Clemens

A Sea of Green Unfolding

December 1863, Maketu Pā, south of Auckland, New Zealand

“I appreciate the Pākehā working so hard to help us.” Tangawai watched the uniformed men in the distance to the southwest of his outpost, high atop the Maketu pā.

“They clear the bush beside the Great South Road to keep their supply trains safe from us, not to help us,” Mahi replied in Māori, his brows drawing together as he looked at the young rangatira from the corners of his eyes.

“Their stripping back of the bush from the road also lets us see who comes and goes on their road.” Tangawai grinned and raised the telescope back to his eye. The colonial army soldiers continued to toil and wear themselves out in the morning sun. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. The weather was already hot and humid for this hour, and he wasn’t swinging an axe.

As he scanned the Great South Road northward from the loggers, three mounted men came into view, trotting toward Auckland. Two wore military uniform and one was clad in a ragged-edged leather tunic.

“Tangawai,” a female voice called up to him from below.

He handed the scope to his cousin and leaned over the wall. The woman was climbing the steep side of the before him, a flax kete on her back. He threw a coil of rope to her and she climbed the last bit with its help.

Tangawai smiled as he took her hand and helped the slim, but heavily pregnant, young woman over the last parapet. “It must be getting difficult to climb, my Tūī.” He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head on her glossy black hair.

“It won’t be long now, and your son will be on my back instead.” She smiled up at him and pulled his kai from the satchel.

He sat and ate with her while his cousin kept watch.

“Tangawai,” Mahi called over his shoulder, “weren’t there three riders heading north before, from Williamson’s Clearing?”

“Yes, two in uniform and one other.”

“There’s only the one Pākehā now.”

“Can you see the uniformed men?”

“No,” he said, and watched for awhile more. “Ah, there they are…they’re going away from us, toward the homesteads on the west side of the road. It might be a trap.”

“We’d better go spring it, then.” Tangawai frowned and pulled Tūī to her feet. “I’ll signal the village to ready the riders, but you’ll need to get down there and explain. The rest need to be ready to disappear into the bush. The Pākehā won’t follow them there.” He gave her a quick hug and a kiss, then she slid over the edge and lowered herself on the rope. Tūī waved from the bottom, then turned and ran down toward the village.

Yes, the Pākehā made it easy to see their road…and easy to see the figure on a small buckskin horse. Alone, when he’d just had a military escort. Why had they left him alone? This was a new trick.

He signaled via mirror to the village below and four men made ready. They approached Tūīwhen she reached the encampment and stood beside her for a few minutes, gesturing, before they mounted up and raced from the encampment. Their horses were gaunt and hard from their time in the bush on rough feed, now that the Māori were beginning to be pushed from the lands of their ancestors.

Tangawai returned to his telescope and scanned the horizon as his men galloped down the hill toward the newly-cleared road. The dust cloud raised by their passing diminished as the warriors settled themselves just inside the bush on both sides of the track to await the lone rider.

He was soon in their own trap. Tangawai gripped the parapet before him as his men surrounded the Pākehā. The rider looked small and puny, now that his whanau surrounded him. His men seemed to be speaking to the rider, then the little horse made a dash to escape, but its way was blocked. The Pākehā’s horse reared and sunlight glinted off metal near the hand of the rider as his men rushed toward him.

The rump of the gray horse was stained scarlet by the time the diminutive rider was dragged off the buckskin by two of his remaining, seasoned warriors. The man who’d been riding the gray crouched next to his horse, holding his bleeding forearm, and the other lay face-down on the ground. Tangawai shook his head and swore, while the men beside him on the walls stepped further away from him. He watched as his men picked the rider up off the ground and shook him.

And knocked his hat off.

Tangawai took the telescope away from his eye and blinked, glanced at the telescope, then peered through it again.

It was still there.

The blonde hair, down past his knees.

Pākehā men didn’t wear their hair that way.

The man who’d just bested two of his finest warriors had blonde hair cascading down past her knees…for it had to be a wahine.

This wasn’t normal, by anyone’s reckoning.

sea of green

A Sea of Green Unfolding

When you’ve already lost everything, the only place left to go is up…

Tragedy strikes in Aleksandra and Xavier’s newly-found paradise on their Californio Rancho de las Pulgas and newspaperman Gustavus von Tempsky invites them on a journey to a new life in New Zealand—where everyone lives together in peace.

Unfortunately, change is in the wind.

When they reach Aotearoa, they disembark into a turbulent wilderness—where the wars between the European settlers and the local Māori have only just begun—and von Tempsky is leading the colonial troops into the bush.

Want to read more?

You can find A Sea of Green Unfolding here or at your favorite online store!

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Lizzi Tremayne

About the Author

Lizzi grew up riding wild in the Santa Cruz Mountain redwoods, became an equine veterinarian at UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine and practiced in the Gold and Pony Express Country of California before emigrating to New Zealand. She is the proud mother of two boys in that sea of green. When she’s not writing, she’s swinging a rapier or shooting a bow in medieval garb, riding or driving a carriage, playing in the garden on her hobby farm, singing, cooking, being an equine veterinarian or high school science teacher. She is multiply published and awarded in special interest magazines and veterinary periodicals.

With her debut novel, A Long Trail Rolling, she was Finalist 2013 RWNZ Great Beginnings; Winner 2014 RWNZ Pacific Hearts Award for the unpublished full manuscript; Winner 2015 RWNZ Koru Award for Best First Novel and third in Koru Long Novel section; and finalist in the 2015 Best Indie Book Award.

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What is His Wife Up To?

Stonehurst’s eyes shone with mischief. “Your wife came to my establishment earlier. She offered me five guineas to f**k her.”

Deanswood spluttered and almost spat out his brandy. “She did what?”

Stonehurst leaned back and savored a second sip of his wine. “Do you want me to repeat it? After you’ve drawn everyone’s gaze? I didn’t take her money or screw her, of course. Let’s find somewhere to talk.”

Anger turned Deanswood’s features haughty and harsh. Fists curled, he glowered at his friend. Make that former friend. He’d rather beat Stonehurst senseless than talk. “You keep your bloody hands off her.”

All Deanswood had wanted was an heir and a spare. Instead, his wife barred him from her bed—unless a quick screw with no foreplay or kisses once a month counted. He’d rather have stayed single.

He’d dreamed of a wife with a warm smile and sweet nature. Curves that made his mouth water and his palms twitch would be a bonus. Leg-shackling himself to Alethea Allerton was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

He should have made it clear that he expected to bear his children and submit to the occasional spanking. In return, he’d teach her about passion, bondage, and obedience. Until his mother-in-law collared him in the library, he’d been looking forward to his wedding night. His mother-in-law’s words had kyboshed that.

Stonehurst struggled to contain his laughter. “So, what really happened on your wedding night?”

“It’s none of your business,” Deanswood snapped.

Unabashed, Stonehurst grinned. “Your wife made it my business. Her dress sense is shocking. Is that why you couldn’t perform last night?”

Stonehurst was right. Alethea had involved him in the tangled mess of her marriage. “Did Alethea say I couldn’t… Of course, I could… Damn it, I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“It might help to talk about it,” Stonehurst suggested.

Deanswood sighed. “Nothing else seems to. After I’d thrown Lady Babs out, my new mother-in-law collared me in the library. She read me an endless lecture on the sins of marital sex. I’d rather take a dressing down from Wellington than endure that again.”

Inwardly, Deanswood fumed. Why the hell had his wife waited until after the ceremony to send her mother to tell him she didn’t want sex? He supposed she was eager to get her grasping hands on his fortune.

When he learned his wife planned to cuckold him, his eyes narrowed and lips thinned in anger. A trip to Gentleman Jackson’s boxing salon beckoned. Going a few rounds with the champion might calm his soul.

Stonehurst’s teasing manner vanished, and he held up both hands, palm out. “I never touched her. We’re attracting too much attention. Walk with me.”

Deanswood had fought alongside Stonehurst in the Peninsular War and again at Waterloo. They’d shared too much to fall out over a woman. That said, Stonehurst enjoyed the earl’s discomfort far too much.

His Innocent Bride

Going about her mundane life in a small fishing village, Alethea never dreamed she would end up with a man like the Earl of Deanswood, yet when she caught the handsome gentleman’s eye he wasted no time in making her his wife. Unbeknownst to Alethea, however, her conniving mother has convinced Deanswood that she has no interest in the marital bed. Devastated by his seeming disinterest, Alethea searches for someone to instruct her in the ways of enticing a man.

When a friend informs Deanswood of Alethea’s plans, he decides to train his new bride himself. Soon enough, Alethea finds herself naked, blindfolded, and helplessly bound as she is thoroughly spanked and then brought to one blushing, quivering climax after another. But when Alethea’s life is threatened by her mother’s vicious scheming, can Deanswood protect his innocent bride?

Publisher’s Note: His Innocent Bride is a stand-alone novel which shares the Regency-era setting of Wickedly Used. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

More about Kryssie Fortune.

Kryssie reads everything and anything, from literary fiction to sizzling romance. Her earliest memory is going to the library with her mother. She can’t have been more than two at the time. Reading, especially when a book’s hot and explicit, is more than a guilty pleasure. It’s an obsession.

Kryssie loves to visit historic sites, from Hadrian’s wall to Regency Bath. The first book she fell in love with was Georgette Heyer’s The Unknown Ajax. After that, she devoured every regency book she could. After a while, they went out of fashion, but part of Kryssie’s psyche lives in in in Regency London. She longs to dance quadrilles and flirt behind fans. Of course, Kryssie’s heroines do far more than flirt.

Kryssie lives in Bridlington on the Yorkshire coast –about thirty miles from Whitby, where Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. She enjoys gardening, travel, and socializing with her author friends. You’d be surprised how many erotic romance authors live in the North of England.

Storm Chasers are Coming!

Have I got a story for you, my dear readers. Over here at the Teatime Tattler the ladies are a buzz. We’re excited to tell you about an event you will not want to miss. Storm Chasers are coming to Wentworth Hall, I tell you. What are Storm Chasers you ask? All I can say at this time is they’re very much what you might already be thinking. However, I’ve been warned by none other than the Prince Regent himself not to reveal a word to anyone. I’m taking his warning serious. However, what I can tell you is that everything you may be curious to know about can be found inside the pages of Storm Chasers of Wentworth Hall.

Yes. Your vision is not impaired. That is a hot air balloon. It’s no secret that this correspondent was more than a little concerned when this particular on dit was first revealed. After a fair amount of research, believe it or not, there are actually two types of balloons in competition with each other so to speak. Hydrogen gas and hot air balloons. Research on the feasibility of hydrogen gas balloons dates as far back as 1662. Hot air balloons date all the way back to 220-280 A.D. in China, no less.

Needless to say, the hot air balloon is this correspondent’s preferred choice. The first unmanned ascension was attempted by Joseph-Michel and Jaques-Etienne Montgolfier. The French! Who can believe it? And not too long ago either. September 1783 to be exact. The balloon was called Aerostat Reveillon. It took flight in Versailles and was manned by three non-human living creatures. Yes, you heard right. A sheep called Montauciel meaning “climb-to-the-sky,” a duck, and a rooster. Their journey lasted eight entire minutes with a safe landing. I say, they should have included a pig in the ranks. Or maybe a frog?

As diverting as this may be, these accomplishments are of the utmost importance. The first tethered flight also happened in 1783, one month later, in October. Those pesky Frenchmen powered on until the first untethered, manned flight happened also in France. That is Paris, France on November 21, 1783. This balloon was piloted by Jean-François Pilâtre de Rozier and François Laurent le Vieux d’Arlandes. How, you might ask, is all this possible? A smoky fire under the neck of the balloon in an iron basket. That’s how.

France refused to stop there because only a few weeks later, the first manned hydrogen balloon flight occurred on December 1, 1783. This flight was piloted by Jacques Charles and Nicolas-Louis Robert. They carried a barometer and thermometer making this the first balloon flight to provide meteorological measurements. Storm chasers indeed!

Take a look at the photos this correspondent went to great lengths to acquire:

Hot Air Balloon                                              

Hydrogen balloon

Explaining the science behind hot air and hydrogen will have to be left to the experts. It’s no wonder Prinny insists on complete discretion. Readers be warned. The Crown has plans in the works.

And what about England? The first balloon flight in England actually happened in 1784 not too long after France. This correspondent has reservations on that account in any event. One cannot believe everything one hears regarding the French.

Until next time…unless, of course, too much has been revealed in which case this correspondent will be answering to the powers that be.

STORM

Storm Chasers of Wentworth Hall releases on April 18, 2019. It’s currently on pre-order at: Amazon but soon to be available across all digital outlets.

Find and follow IreAnne Chambers here:

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Miranda’s Quest for a Title

Miss Miranda de Courtenay held back the tears threatening to leak from her eyes. Her chin jutted forward even while she took a firmer hold on Phillip, the Marquis of Wyndham’s arm. Her brother Adrian and Lady Celia Lacey both threw accusatory glances in her direction. In their eyes, Miranda had betrayed them. Could they not see for themselves she was doing them a favor? Having arrived with Celia’s father just as the couple had fallen to the ground in a public display had been sheer luck on Miranda’s part and was far more than she had expected when she urged the duke that his daughter needed him. Maybe having the entire ton as a spectator was a step too far but some matters needed to be shook up for the greater good. Adrian and Celia belonged together…

…and Miranda wanted Phillip as a husband. He was as good a choice as any other titled lord and at least he had been giving her the time of day. Celia did not want the man so why should Miranda not take advantage of the situation presented to her.

“I believe I will excuse myself from this fiasco, Miss Miranda,” Phillip murmured before his mouth clamped shut. She peered up at him and saw his cheek tick as though his tightly clenched jaw was an indication as to his true feelings for Celia.

“Of course, my lord,” she replied even though she was disappointed he refused to stay with her. It took everything in Miranda’s power not to stomp her foot to show her displeasure. She let go of his arm with a sense that any thoughts of this man becoming her husband just slipped through her grasp.

She went to a nearby bench and sat beneath the swaying branches of a tree. Adrian and the duke passed by her as though she did not exist. Celia’s sister’s quickly tucked the poor girl into their fold to usher her away while the gossipmongers began their attack.

But it was the whisperings of the Danver sister’s as they walked by that caused Miranda to truly regret her actions both today and in her past.

“You should not be surprised de Courtenay was taking advantage of a young woman like Lady Celia,” Prudence said making no attempt to lower her voice. “Why he is a notorious rake of the worse sort!”

“Really, Prue,” Abigail scolded, “you are just miffed he did not give you the least bit of attention during the last season. I would be far more concerned on what this will do to his younger sister’s reputation.”

A snigger left Prudence’s lips. “Her reputation was ruined during that altercation with the Marquis of Aldridge during the charity ball at Hollystone Hall. She failed to get Aldridge to propose then and it appears she has had no better luck with Wyndham now.”

“Let us hurry and get this all written down while the latest bit of gossip is fresh in our minds. I have no doubt Mr. Clemens at the Teatime Tattler will be publishing this latest development as soon as he receives the news,” Abigail said with a laugh.

Miranda whipped out her fan to flutter it before her flushed face. A sob tore at her throat at the injustice of it all. Making her way from the gardens, she called for her carriage to be brought around and could only wonder just how much farther she must fall before she finally found someone to love…


The Earl Takes A Wife by Sherry Ewing

Lady Celia Lacey is too young for a husband, especially man-about-town Lord Adrian de Courtenay. But when she meets him at a house party, she falls in love and cannot get him out of her mind. Will he ever think she is old enough to become his wife?

Adrian finds the appealing innocent impossible to forget, though she is barely out of the schoolroom and a relative by marriage. If they are constantly in each other’s company, then how can he move on without her?

His sister’s deceptions bring them together, but destroys their happiness. Can they reach past the hurt to the love that still burns?

Valentines From Bath: A Bluestocking Belles Collection

The Master of Ceremonies announces a great ball to be held on Valentine’s Day in the Upper Assembly Rooms of Bath. Ladies of the highest rank—and some who wish they were—scheme, prepare, and compete to make best use of the opportunity. Dukes, earls, tradesmen, and the occasional charlatan are alert to the possibilities as the event draws nigh. 

But anything can happen in the magic of music and candlelight as couples dance, flirt, and open themselves to romantic possibilities. Problems and conflict may just fade away at a Valentine’s Day Ball.

Buy Links for Valentines From Bath:

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2Wkm5Ma

B&N: http://bit.ly/2FPc04J

iBooks: https://apple.co/2FRdLOL

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2CPg01l

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2TiSAZa

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2S9TwSh

BR: https://amzn.to/2WiPSVs

CA: https://amzn.to/2RhJtpR

DE: https://amzn.to/2TeU1rr

ES: https://amzn.to/2Ri86mh

FR: https://amzn.to/2WoCDT5

IN: https://amzn.to/2FRDDKD

JP: https://amzn.to/2HyuuIv

IT: https://amzn.to/2RidZja

MX: https://amzn.to/2S7ueEw

NL: https://amzn.to/2sRU4hf

UK: https://amzn.to/2B3djJq

Bluestocking Belle Sherry Ewing hopes you’ve enjoyed this little tidbit into Miranda de Courtenay’s life. She’s a secondary character in Sherry’s novella The Earl Takes a Wife that is in the Belles box set Valentines From Bath.

If you’d like to keep in touch with Sherry, be sure to follow her on the following social media outlets. She also has a street team on Facebook and she’d love to have you join her team!

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He is awful! But we like him.

Lucinda! Dare I tell you what I heard the other day at my sister’s tea?

I shouldn’t spread such dastardly tales, but the news scarcely bears credence!

I know. I know. Come closer. We’ll sit in this corner near the doors to the garden and I will tell you. We don’t want everyone here to listen in. Why, I’d never forgive myself if such words got out and I was referenced as the one to have told the story!

Well, yes. Settled? No one around us. Hmm. So, here is the tale.

You’ve heard, I am certain, that the Marquess of Ridgemont has had a liaison for the past few months with a certain duchess. Yes, you have? Hmm. And that she is soon to be indisposed for the next six months? Yes. The duke is furious. But he knows not who to blame! Is it Ridgemont? Or perhaps Wales himself? Dastardly choice, isn’t it?

And now there is another problem. Ridgemont is to wed.

Well, yes, yes, everyone knows that. His mama and papa are quite insistent that he do. Finally, he must wed. But he tarries.

Oh, pardon me. I titter! He tarries and dallies, doesn’t he?

I mustn’t snort. So unladylike. Well! Onward with my tale!

Ridgemont is to wed. One of those American gels. The haughty sort. More money than any foolish woman should have. I must throw myself into the nearest ha-ha with outrage…but it is true. Glorious dark-haired, superbly sculpted Ridgemont must wed and get the American dollars he desperately needs.

I hear your question. Which girl, eh?

I do believe it is—

Oh, my! Why, Lord Ridgemont, I did not know you were here! How wonderful to see you!

The garden? With me? You’d like to walk among the roses?

Well. My, my. Let me open my fan. It is so stifling in this drawing room, isn’t it?

You won’t mind, Lucinda, will you, dearest, if I admire the roses with Ridgemont?

No, no, I won’t be but a few minutes.

What’s that, you say, my lord?

More than a few?

Ten, a least?

I say! How flattering and very exciting. Of  course, I will take your arm.

I’ll see you later, Lucinda. Don’t whisper a word of this, will you, my dear?

Thank you, thank you.

I am all yours, my dear Ridgemont!

For more about this spicy tidbit, do read SCANDALOUS HEIRESS, THOSE NOTORIOUS AMERICANS, Book 4, by Cerise DeLand.

For more about this spicy tidbit, do read SCANDALOUS HEIRESS, THOSE NOTORIOUS AMERICANS, Book 4, by Cerise DeLand.

AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07LB9KFM9/

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/scandalous-heiress-cerise-deland/1130406401?ean=2940161284896 

KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/scandalous-heiress-4

And do follow Cerise DeLand on Amazon and BookBub!

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