Home of the Bluestocking Belles

Because history is fun and love is worth working for

Ghostly Gossip

ghostLady Bell invited Mr. Tilson to tea not because she likes him, but to hear about a ghost. I had learned a little about the specter from friends in Carlisle, and she wanted to know more. Unfortunately, Mr. Tilson didn’t want to discuss ghosts. He preferred to backbite about living people.

“All the Warrens are scandalous, absolutely scandalous,” Mr. Tilson told us. “From Lord Garrison to his sister to his cousins, they’re simply dreadful. It’s in their blood.”

There is a certain amount of truth to this. Lord Garrison and his kinfolk do tend to live by their own rules, but they are also far more fun than most people with whom I’m acquainted.

“Surely not.” Lady Bell motioned to me to pour Mr. Tilson a second cup of tea. “Thomasina Warren is a charming girl, so perfectly behaved that she is known as The One Good Warren. She would have made you an excellent wife.”

“So I thought.” Mr. Tilson heaved a sigh redolent of the seed cake with which he had stuffed himself. “But when I questioned her sternly with the full force of my manly intellect, Miss Warren herself admitted to the taint.” He took a breath. “In fact, she confessed to an uncontrollable urge to sin.”

I ask you, how likely is that?

Her ladyship glowered at him. “What nonsense. No innocent maiden would say anything of the kind.”

Particularly to a stodgy sort like Tilson.

“I do beg your pardon,” he murmured. “It was the truth, but I shouldn’t have mentioned something so unsavory in the presence of ladies.”

He sighed again, and I moved as far as possible from him on the sofa. I like seed cake, but not at second hand.

“I have heard that Miss Warren doesn’t wish to marry,” I said.

“Nonsense, my dear Clara,” Lady Bell said. “Every young woman wishes to do so.” She simply will not accept the fact that I have never been tempted to exchange my comfortable single state for submission to some tedious male.

Ghost“Miss Warren knows full well that she is unmarriageable,” Mr. Tilson said. “Her conniving father tried to trap me into wedding her. Much as I pity her, I was fortunate to escape before I found myself tied to her forever.” He was enjoying himself, which is in frightfully bad taste. How vile to denigrate the former object of his affection!

It was obvious to me that Miss Warren was the one who had escaped. What’s worse, now he gazed at me with a warm expression in his eyes.

Lady Bell gave a smug little smile. Good God, was she thinking I might like to wed this bore?

Time to change the subject. I assumed an expression of trepidatious inquiry. “Earlier, her ladyship mentioned something about a ghost at Hearth House.”

Lady Bell set down her teacup. She is an enthusiastic believer in the supernatural. “Yes, a Roman soldier who patrols Hadrian’s Wall. He carries a spear and threatens anyone who comes near.” She paused, twinkling. “Except courting couples of whom he approves.”

“Now, now, my lady,” Mr. Tilson said. “You will have your little jest, but ghosts do not exist. Old houses like Hearth House tend to creak and groan, especially in cold weather.”

I put on an innocent face. “I was told that you made banishing the ghost a condition of marrying Miss Warren—but how can one drive away something that isn’t real?”

Mr. Tilson reddened, hastening to explain. “To calm her, so she need not fear for the safety of our future children.” What a lie that was! I knew from other sources that it was he who’d been afraid. Imagine refusing to marry a girl because of a ghost!

“Why should she fear?” I asked. “By what I’ve heard, she likes the ghost. It protects her from unwanted suitors.”

Mr. T glared. I must confess, I enjoyed witnessing his attempt to summon his manly intellect and produce an explanation that made him look fearless, noble, self-sacrificing, and so on.

“That only goes to show,” he said, “that sin is not the only taint in her family. There’s madness, too.” He paused dramatically and lowered his voice to a hush. “I saw her talking to the ghost.”

Heavens! “You saw the ghost?”

He huffed. “No, I saw her talking to thin air, which is a well-known trait of the insane. It gave me quite a turn. Thank God for that pleasant young man who was visiting Hearth House and kindly warned me away.”

Hmm…. I wonder now, who is the pleasant young man, and what was his reason for getting rid of Mr. Tilson? I can think of several possibilities. I believe I shall pay a visit to Hearth House and find out!

GhostAbout the Book

Faced with the intolerable suitors her father approves, Thomasina Warren resolves never to marry, and decides to lose her virginity so that no respectable man will have her. Who better to ruin her than handsome, charming James Blakely? But James is an honorable man and refuses point-blank. Humiliated, she resorts to outright refusal to wed, with the help of a ghost who scares her suitors away. But four years later, her father has arranged her marriage to a stodgy gentlemen whose only condition is that the ghost must be banished forever.

James Blakely never forgot the lovely girl who asked him to ruin her, and when he offers to get rid of the ghost, he thinks he’ll be doing a good deed. Instead, he is faced with the hostile Thomasina, her cowardly suitor, pigheaded father, lecherous cousin, an exorcist monk, and a ghost who warns of danger and deadly peril—and a few short days in which to convince Thomasina that with the right man, she might just want to marry after all.

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07F71SZD6/
Amazon Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07F71SZD6/
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07F71SZD6/
Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07F71SZD6/

About the Author

Award-winning author Barbara Monajem wrote her first story at eight years old about apple tree gnomes. She published a middle-grade fantasy when her children were young, then moved on to paranormal mysteries and Regency romances with intrepid heroines and long-suffering heroes (or vice versa). She lives near Atlanta, Georgia with an ever-shifting population of relatives, friends, and feline strays.

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A Rose Thief meets a Bear

That Rosa Neatham. They say that she hurt her ankle. I ask you, is that likely? How did she come to hurt her ankle fifteen minutes walk or more from her home? And her with a sick father to look after?

I say sick, but we all know he is deranged. And no wonder, poor man, after what his wife and then his daughter put him through.

She just happened to hurt her ankle on the doorstep of the most eligible bachelor to come this way in a month of Sundays. Now their banns have been called, and you cannot tell me she didn’t plan it all.

Just wait until he finds out who her aunt is. That’s what I say. Or is the woman her aunt? Some say the scandalous trollop is her mother!

House of Thorns

His rose thief bride comes with a scandal that threatens to tear them apart.

Retired spy, Bear Gavenor has fled the marriage mart for the familiarity of his work; restoring abandoned country manors to sell to the newly rich. Never does he anticipate that his first task will be to deal with the thief he’s caught stealing his roses.

Evicted from her home and ruined with claims she has a lover, Rosa Neatham fears she will soon be unable to care for her invalid father. When she returns to her former home to gather roses to brighten his room, her fortune worsens. She’s startled by the home’s new owner and injured in a fall.

Bear takes her in, but when the rector confronts him about living with an unmarried woman, Bear decides to halt the rumormongers’ attempts to ruin her further and marries Rosa.

He needs an heir.

She needs a home.

Love needs to overcome the scandal, secrets and self-doubts that each brings to this marriage of convenience.

Buy links

Jude Knight’s book page  ♥ Amazon US  ♥ Amazon UK  ♥ Amazon Ca ♥ Amazon Au

Excerpt

The intruder stealing his roses had lovely shaped calves.

Bear Gavenor paused at the corner of the house, the better to enjoy the sight. The scraping of wood on stone had drawn him from the warmth of the kitchen, where the only fire in this overgrown cottage kept the unseasonable chill at bay. He had placed each foot carefully and silently, not from planned stealth, but from old habit. The woman perched precariously on the rickety ladder seemed oblivious to his presence.

Or—his sour experiences as a wealthy war hero in London suggested—she knew full well, and her display was for his benefit. Certainly, the sight was having an effect. Her skirt rose as she stretched, showing worn but neat walking boots. Her inadequate jacket molded to curves that dried his mouth. Wind plastered her skirts to lower curves that had him hardening in an instant, visions of plunder screaming into his mind.

It had been too long since his last willing widow.

Disgust at his own weakness as much as irritation at the invasion of his privacy, fueled Bear’s full-throated roar, “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing with my roses?”

She jerked around, then cried out as the rung she stood on snapped free of the upright. Bear lunged toward her as the ladder slid sideways. One upright caught on the tangle of rose branches and the other continued its descent. The woman threw out both hands but the branch she grasped snapped free and—before Bear could throw himself under her— she crashed onto the ground.

If the fall was deliberate—which would not surprise him after some of the things women had done to attract his attention—she had made too good a job of it. She lay still and white in a crumpled heap, her head lying on a corner of a flagstone in the path. He dropped to one knee beside her and slipped a hand into the rich chestnut hair. His fingers came away bloody.

As he ran his hands swiftly over the rest of her body, checking for anything that seemed twisted out of shape or that hurt enough to rouse her, a large drop of rain splashed onto his neck, followed by a spattering of more and then a deluge. He cursed as he lifted the woman and ran into the house through the garden doors that opened from the room he’d chosen for his study.

She was a bare handful, lighter than she should have been for her height, though well endowed in all the right places. He set her on the sofa and straightened. He needed a doctor.

Scandalous visitors? Or scandalous viscount?

Capital Journal, Fiction Section, Friday, February the First

A rumor currently circulates among the gentry in The Grand City that the white/blond Viscount of F had a visitor one recent morning, or rather, visitors, as the woman who claimed to be his wife brought with her a pair of identical offspring closely resembling the earl himself.  Piercing blue eyes and straight white hair adorned both cherubs whose mother was blessed with the dark hair of her pure Spanish ancestors.

Not believing the woman, or his own eyes it seems, The Viscount of F shooed the little family from his noble steps and into the halls of a certain hotel where they have taken up residence until a higher authority might be able to hear their tale.

It was also rumored that the mistress of Viscount of F has moved out of his grasp as she deemed it unwise to associate with a man who possesses untrustworthy…eyes.

Stay tuned to see if the current fiancée of this poor-sighted creature is also saved from his company.         –The Scarlet Plumiere

If he unmasks her, she’s as good as dead…

Blood for Ink, Book 1 of the Scarlet Plumiere series

As the mysterious writer who exposes gentlemen’s secrets, it is not the first time The Scarlet Plumiere has been hunted. But this time it’s different. This time, she interferes with one of the Four Kings, and the brotherhood will not rest until they marry her off and place her securely under a man’s thumb. Only they have to catch her first.

The Earl of Northwick is falling for this writer, sight unseen. Will she be pretty? Will she have all her teeth? In his rush to claim her for himself, regardless of who she might ultimately be, he places her in grave danger—her desperate enemies are watching closely for the moment her mask is removed.

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0083UCPNO

This is a five book series that continues with Bones for Bread, Body and Soul, Breathe of Laughter (Nov. 2018) and Beat of my Heart (December 2018).

L.L. Muir lives in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains and writes fiction between bowls of cereal.

Before writing full-time, she owned a flower shop called The Scottish Rose. She’d often answer the phone sounding like Mrs. Doubtfire…until a gentleman customer asked to speak with the Scottish woman who owned the place. A little embarrassing, that.

You can sign up for her new release alerts on her website at http://www.llmuir.weebly.com. Follow her on Bookbub, Amazon, or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Fictionbyllmuir

Much Ado about a Great Book

Dear Mr. Clemens,

There has been much ado about Follow Your Star Home, the latest offering from the Bluestocking Belles. I want to say one more word in praise of this collection of holiday stories. Readers can do themselves no greater favor to themselves, can give little better gift to friends, family, and even strangers than to read these stories. This collection of tales honors trust, loyalty, faith in a higher power, and the miracle of love between family as well as lovers. What could possibly be wrong with such stories. I admit to some bias. As one of the authors and a privileged reader of the first drafts, I’ve witnessed the evolution of each tale from rough to polished draft. The attention paid to detail by the Belles is meticulous and rewarding in both historical information, human behavior, and matters of the heart. I am honored to be in the company of these very talented women. To prove my point, I include a line from each story. These small samples, will show the stories written by the Belles to be irresistible. Mark my words, sir, the Bluestocking Belles are a literary force to be reckoned with and their stories are experiences not to be missed. 

Sincerely,

Rue Allyn

“Come on, now, you lazy piece of vermin,” she said crossly. “Wake up, and help me help you.” A Yule Love Story by Nicole Zoltack

“What witchery is this that you come afore me in my dreams?” he all but growled out. “This is my dream, you crazy ghost!” One Last Kiss by Sherry Ewing

“I take it that my father is willing to accept Lady James and our children with the same enthusiasm?” Paradise Regained by Jude Knight

Glancing around, he stepped closer, lifted the locks off her neck and kissed the soft white skin beneath. Somewhere Like Home by Lizzi Tremayne

“Heed me, lad. You must follow this plan to the letter. No skipping steps. No combining steps. And no funny business.” The Umbrella Chronicles: James and Annie’s Story by Amy Quinton

“You’re a toad, Caibre, and I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last toad on earth.” A Wish for All Seasons by Rue Allyn

“How can I produce a marriage certificate if you won’t give me leave to get married? The Last Post by Caroline Warfield

“Well that’s fine thanks!” she called. “I get you a job and you get yourself run over!” A Fine Chance by Elizabeth Ellen Carter

Follow Your Star Home will be released on November 4, 2018 and is available for pre-order now.

Buy Links

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Belles-Christmas-Title-Still-Under-ebook/dp/B07H4ZY517/

Smashwordshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view/894110

Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/belles-christmas-2018-box-set-title-still-under-wraps/

Blurb: Forged for lovers, the Viking star ring is said to bring lovers together, no matter how far, no matter how hard.

In eight stories, cvering more than half the world and a thousand years, our heroes and heroines put the legend to the test. Watch the star work its magic, as prodigals return home in the season of good will, uncertain of their welcome.

25% of proceeds benefit the Malala Fund.

More information about The Bluestocking Belles is available here:

 

Gossip in the 19th Century

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

Victorian Town

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

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

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

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

Meet Nancy Thorne

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

 

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