historical romance

On Tour: Bound in Roses, by Katherine Kayne #BoundinRoses #HistoricalRomance #GildedAge #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @cathiedunn

A red-hot Hawaiian romance blooms for a buttoned-up botanist
who must learn to let go and embrace the ancient voice within her.

Book Information

Book Title: Bound in Roses
Series: Hawaiian Ladies Riding Society
Author: Katherine Kayne
Publication Date: January 23, 2024
Publisher: Passionflower Press
Page Length: 397
Genre: Historical Romance (Gilded Age)

Blurb:

After a failed engagement to a high-society suitor in San Francisco, Lokelani “Lucky” Letwin returns home to Hawaii, leaving her beloved rosebushes behind. She’s desperate to establish a life of her own-a daunting task for any unmarried female in the early twentieth century but particularly for one passionate about the science of plants. A stubborn, song-filled girl now grown into an accomplished woman Lokelani is haunted by a family tragedy. She is as reluctant to acknowledge her past as she is to accept the supernatural force building inside her, strong and inevitable. She is a mākāhā, a Gate, ever connected to the power of the islands . . . if only she will admit it.

In her quest to retrieve her roses, Lokelani is reunited with Artemus Chang, a childhood friend, who’s now a handsome and successful lawyer. As the spark between them grows, Artemus agrees to help her recover her roses, only to discover her kisses leave him literally breathless. When a mystical teacher enters her life, Lokelani’s embrace of the voice of ancient power bubbling up within her takes on new urgency and new apprehensions.

Will Lokelani continue to be bound by guilt and fear? Or will she learn to reconcile her gifts – as both a practical botanist and a mystical Gate – to sing once more and claim her love?

Buy Links:

This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.

Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/47R5VL

Author Bio:

Award winning author Katherine Kayne writes deeply romantic historical fantasy set in old Hawaii. Her critically acclaimed debut novel BOUND IN FLAME delivers myth, magic and all the sparks promised by the title. The next installment in her Hawaiian Ladies’ Riding Society series, BOUND IN ROSES, is available for preorder now.

Katherine’s novels are filled with horses and history and happily ever after . . . and heroes strong enough to follow their heroine’s lead. She spends a part of each year on Hawaii Island immersing herself in Hawaii’s past. Aided of course by the occasional mai tai. Katherine created the world of the Hawaiian Ladies Riding Society to tell the stories of the fearless horsewomen of the islands’ ranches. Because who doesn’t love a suffragist on horseback? With a bullwhip? Wearing flowers?

If you come along for the ride, be prepared for almost anything to happen. Katherine can promise you fiery kisses, charming cowboys, women who ride like the rainbow to save the day, and that rarest of beasts-handsome men who like to dance.

Author Links:

Website: https://www.katherinekayne.com/

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

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/k2writesbooks/

Threads: https://www.threads.net/@k2writesbooks

Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/katherine-kayne

Amazon Author Page:  Amazon.com: Katherine Kayne: books, biography, latest update

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19231806.Katherine_Kayne

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On Tour: The Ghost of Grayson Hall by MK McClintock #HistoricalRomanceMystery #HistoricalMystery #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub #CPBC @cathiedunn

Book Title and Author Name:

The Ghost of Greyson Hall
British Agents Series, Book #4
MK McClintock

Blurb:

Once a year, an ancient secret walks the corridors of Greyson Hall, a place shrouded in mystery and whispered legend.

When Devon Clayton inherited the stately mansion in England’s wild north from his uncle, he never imagined what secrets lurked within its walls, hidden for centuries. When his friends and brothers join him for the holiday, the British Agents and their families discover that their most unusual case will bring new meaning to Christmas spirit.

They must now unravel a century-old mystery if they are to break the curse and save a love that transcends time.

A long novella set in Northumberland in December 1782 and 1892.

Also Available:

  • Alaina Claiborne
  • Blackwood Crossing
  • Clayton’s Honor

Note: The British Agent series books are written to be read as stand-alone novels. However, they each have cross-over characters, meaning characters from each book will appear in the others. The only reading order is chronological, but each title can still be read as stand-alone.

Excerpt

Prologue

In the year of 1782, among the snow-dusted hills of Northumberland, Lady Grace Canterbury of Greyson Hall disappeared.

Rumors abounded. She ran away with her Highland lover, leaving her husband and son behind. Others speculated on her declining health, claiming she’d gone away to die in solitude when the fever and pain overcame her body and mind. Those who knew her never believed the gossip and resolved through the years that ruffians kidnapped her at the command of her jealous husband.

No one ever learned the truth. Lady Canterbury vanished.

She’d left behind an infant son, who had barely found comfort in his mother’s arms. A fair-haired and handsome boy who resembled his mother in coloring, including the eyes, ice blue and startling cold if it had not been for the spray of thick, black lashes.

Before the birth, Lord Spencer Canterbury had shared with her how he longed for a fair-haired daughter who looked like her mother. However, when their son made his first appearance, she saw her husband’s joy in knowing it was a strong and healthy boy who would one day inherit the title and become master of their vast estate.

How does such a lady vanish without leaving a remnant of evidence?

For more than a century, the truth remained a mystery. Lady Canterbury became a faded memory, a story to entertain and bewilder at celebrations and gatherings. For generations, speculation continued. Descendants of the family attempted to unravel the mystery of the eighteenth-century puzzle, alas to no avail. Few took the matter seriously—after all, it was long before their time—and the image of a graceful beauty with hair as pale as the risen moon and eyes the color of waves on the sea faded into history.

Excerpt from The Ghost of Greyson Hall copyright © MK McClintock

Praise for the British Agent Series:

“Ms. McClintock succeeds in masterfully weaving both genres meticulously together until mystery lovers are sold on romance and romance lovers love the mystery!” —InD’Tale Magazine on Alaina Claiborne

“This book was perfectly-paced with mystery, romance, adventure, and so much more. I am definitely recommending that everyone who loves historical fiction in general read this book. I cannot wait to start reading the next book in this series.”
—Dreams Come True Through Reading on Blackwood Crossing

“MK McClintock has spun an enchanting tale deeply entrenched in the lands of Scotland and England that will leave you riveted to your chair until you turn the last page.” —My Life, One Story at a Time on Blackwood Crossing

Clayton’s Honor by MK McClintock is a clean historical romance that will keep your heart beating and your palms sweating. This is definitely a novel that is going on my ‘read again’ shelf! A really good and smooth read!” —Readers’ Favorite 

Buy Links:

Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/brBdME

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-ghost-of-greyson-hall-mk-mcclintock/1143812817?ean=2940167043008

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/the-ghost-of-greyson-hall-british-agent-novels-book-4-by-mk-mcclintock

Author Bio:

MK McClintock is an award-winning author who writes historical romantic fiction about chivalrous men and strong women who appreciate chivalry. Her stories of romance, mystery, and adventure sweep across the American West to the Victorian British Isles with places and times between and beyond.

Her works include the following series: Montana Gallaghers, Crooked Creek, British Agents, Whitcomb Springs, and the stand-alone collection, A Home for Christmas. She is also the co-author of the McKenzie Sisters Mysteries.

MK enjoys a quiet life in the northern Rocky Mountains. Visit her online home at www.mkmcclintock.com, where you can learn more about her books, explore extras, and subscribe to receive news.

Author Links:

Website: www.mkmcclintock.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MKMcClintockBooks
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mkmcclintock/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/mkmcclintock/
Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mk-mcclintock
Mailing List: https://www.mkmcclintock.com/subscribe
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/MK-McClintock/author/B006UV5PPI\

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Out Now! Meet me in Milan, by KD Sherrinford #Mystery #Romance #HistoricalRomance #NewRelease @ExtasyBooks

The deepest secrets are often to be found out in the open
if you only know where to look.

Book Information

Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : K D Sherrinford
100 Pages ~ 29 808 words
ISBN :978-1-4874-3967-5
Publication Date :2023-09-29
Series : Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler Mysteries #3
Category : Historical Romance, Romantic Suspense and Mystery, Romance

Blurb:

While her husband, Sherlock Holmes, is off playing detective in London, Irene Adler finds herself having to play detective when her friend Renata becomes the prime suspect in the attempted murder of her husband, Luigi Amato. How can she refute the testimony of a credible eyewitness, even though her heart tells her that Renata is innocent? She needs tangible evidence, and she’s willing to do what she must to obtain it.

When Sherlock finally arrives on the scene, Irene seeks his counsel, and he agrees to assist with her investigation. However, their relationship is called into question by Irene’s dear friend Sophia, who is not overly fond of Irene’s husband nor approving of the way in which they conduct their marriage. Will Irene be able to prove her friend Renata’s innocence, or is there a more tangled web of deception at play? And will Sophia’s misgivings regarding her marriage bear unfortunate fruit?

Excerpt

Chapter Eight

Luigi turned his attention to my husband. “It is an honour to meet you, Signor Sapori. I have only heard good things about you. But, of course, I have already had the pleasure of meeting your beautiful, charming wife. That engaging smile could cast a spell over any man”. He sighed. “You are indeed a fortunate man. Love is such a wonderful thing, some say the most incredible thing. Don’t you agree?

Sherlock straightened in his chair. I could see this inference rattled him. “I’m afraid I don’t speak as eloquently as you regarding matters of the heart, Signor Amato, neither would I wish to. But I will say this.” He paused to take a sip from his glass, fixing me with his piercing grey eyes. “My wife is not here to decorate the room, Signor Sapori. She is a strong, independent woman of whom I am inordinately proud. I admire many things about her, of course. Her grace, humility and intelligence are just a few of the things that first attracted me to her But, most of all, the fact that she chose me as her husband. Nene does not walk in my shadow. On the contrary, she ploughs her own furrow. I am a better person for knowing her”.

My heart swelled as I stared at my husband in jaw-dropping, incredulous admiration. It seemed unimaginable; this profound seismic moment, Sherlock’s narrative spoken so articulately and hurtled so trippingly off the tongue and spoken with such conviction, was the last thing I expected to hear. Yet his words meant more to me than I could ever express.

Buy Links

https://www.extasybooks.com/Meet-Me-In-Milan

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CJRRSN8B/

About KD Sherrinford

KD Sherrinford was born and raised in Preston, Lancashire, and now resides on the Fylde Coast with her husband John and their children.

KD had a varied career, working with thoroughbred horses and racing greyhounds. She and her husband won the Blackpool Greyhound Derby in 1987 with Scottie. Then to mix things up, KD joined Countrywide where she was employed for over 20 years and became a Fellow of The National Association of Estate Agents.

Retirement finally gave KD the opportunity to follow her dreams and start work on her first novel. She gained inspiration to write “Song for Someone” from her daughter Katie, after a visit to The Sherlock Holmes Museum on Baker Street in 2019. Writing about Irene Adler had always been a passion; she is such an iconic character. The first two books in this thrilling series, Song for Someone and Christmas at The Saporis are available now at all major outlets. Book 3- The much anticipated “Meet Me in Milan”, has just been released at Extasy Books. KD recently started work on the 4th book in the series, Nicco Sapori’s Abduction, which will be available next year.

KD’s short cosy contemporary mystery “A Bit of a Do” will be published as part of Marla Bradeen’s fabulous anthology Malice, Matrimony, and Murder, to be released on the 13th of November.  The anthology is available to pre-order at Amazon. With twenty-four original stories from Derringer and Agatha finalists, Editors Choice Gold Seal recipients, and CWA members, there is no shortage of talent.

You can catch a recent interview of KD at this link:

Depths and Endless Possibilities

If you enjoy KD’s books, she would love you to post a review.

KD can be found at her author page https://www.facebook.com/KDSherrinford/Author.co.uk

https://www.facebook.com/people/KDSherrinford/100078319333010

https://www.allauthor.com/author/KDSHERRINFORD

https://www.instagram.com/kdsherrinford

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kd-sherrinford

https://twitter.com/KDSherrinford

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/23093327

You can email KD-   [email protected]

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On Tour: The Husband Criteria #NewRelease #RegencyRomance #GuestPost #Excerpt #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @CKullmmannauthor @cathiedunn

A light-hearted, entertaining look behind the scenes of a Season that takes a different course with unexpected consequences for all concerned.

BOOK INFORMATION

Book Title: The Husband Criteria
Series: The Lorings, Book #3
Author: Catherine Kullmann
Publication Date: 24 August 2023
Publisher: Willow Books
Page Length: 297
Genre: Historical Romance / Regency Romance

BLURB

London 1817

The primary aim of every young lady embarking on the Spring frenzy that is the Season must be to make a good match. Or must it? And what is a good match? For cousins Cynthia, Chloe and Ann, well aware that the society preux chevalier may prove to be a domestic tyrant, these are vital questions. How can they discover their suitors’ true character when all their encounters must be confined to the highly ritualised round of balls, parties and drives in the park?

As they define and refine their Husband Criteria, Cynthia finds herself unwillingly attracted to aloof Rafe Marfield, heir to an earldom, while Chloe is pleased to find that Thomas Musgrave, the vicar’s son from home, is also in London. And Ann must decide what is more important to her, music or marriage.

And what of the gentlemen who consider the marriage mart to be their hunting grounds? How will they react if they realise how rigorously they are being assessed?

A light-hearted, entertaining look behind the scenes of a Season that takes a different course with unexpected consequences for all concerned.

When I first saw the blurb for The Husband Criteria, it struck me that within the constraints of the Regency era, the author’s heroines are seizing their power to make decisions for themselves, so I invited her to comment about this issue:

GUEST POST BY CATHERINE KULLMANN

Until well into the nineteenth century, on marrying, a woman gave up her own legal persona which was subsumed into that of her husband. This was known as coverture.

Under English common law, an adult unmarried or widowed woman was a feme sole, while a married woman was a feme covert. These are English spellings of medieval Anglo-Norman phrases (the modern standard French spellings would be femme seule “single woman” and femme couverte, literally “covered woman”). A feme sole had the right to own property and make contracts in her own name. A feme covert did not; she had very few recognized individual rights of her own. Husband and wife were one person as far as the law was concerned, and that person was the husband. A married woman could also not obtain an education against her husband’s wishes.. If he allowed her to work, he was entitled to claim her income for himself. He could decide where she lived and whether she saw her children, forbid her access to the marital home or compel her to return there, under threat of imprisonment if she failed to do so. She, on the other hand, could not resort to the courts to force a deserter  husband to return to her.

By today’s standards, Regency couples married hardly knowing each other. Think of Darcy and Elizabeth, and Jane and Bingley. In a modern relationship, they would just about have reached the point of exclusivity, or ‘going steady’ as we said fifty years ago, i.e. agreeing that they would not date anyone else. There would follow a longer courtship period; perhaps they would live together before marrying. These were not options during the Regency, Furthermore, it was almost impossible for a woman to get a divorce, while if her husband managed to divorce her—also a costly and long-drawn out procedure—she was socially ruined.

The patriarchal society also made it difficult if not impossible for a single woman to earn a living respectably, and the higher her social status, the more difficult this became. A lady could become a governess or companion without losing her status. These were generally live-in positions. She would be guaranteed bed and board, and receive a modest enough salary on top of it.

Marriage was the socially acceptable route to ensure a woman’s livelihood and social status. But how to choose the right man?

Intelligent women were all too aware of the dangers of marriage. They would have seen examples of good and bad relationships within their families and acquaintanceship. Jane Austen, who chose to remain single, is subtly subversive in her descriptions of courtship and marriage. She describes the situations of women whose husbands and fathers do not make proper provision for them (Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice), the importance that your prospective husband is of good character (Mansfield Park), and the dangers of marrying for the wrong reason.  She also insists on that certain, indefinable quality that, in The Husband Criteria, Cynthia describes as attraction. Charlotte Lucas, who  is not attracted to Mr Collins, but schemes to marry him so as to have a comfortable home, has little hope, Elizabeth Bennet thinks, of being even tolerably happy.

Image of a Regency Wedding.  From The Matrimonial Ladder, Author’s private collection.

EXCERPT

Chapter Four

“You and Marfield got on famously yesterday,” Chloe said to Cynthia. The three girls had gathered in Chloe’s sitting-room at Swanmere House to review the previous evening’s entertainment.

“Yes, he is not as haughty as he appears. We were talking about the horrors of bad dancing partners.” The others laughed as she explained their idea of dancing badges. “We should add them to our Husband Criteria.”

“Husband Criteria?” Ann looked from one to the other.

“I’d forgotten that,” Chloe said. “When we were in Weymouth two years ago, before either of us had come out, we talked about what we would look for in a husband, and how artificial an environment the Season is—the worst place to find the man one would wish to spend one’s life with.” She went to the little writing-desk and began to flick through the pages of a notebook. “Yes, here it is. The points are not ranked but in a mingle-mangle as they came to us.” She took a breath. “He should be good-looking, but not an Adonis, well-dressed, but not a dandy, and definitely not slovenly. A good rider who also respects your riding abilities.”

“Yes. There is nothing worse than being treated as a helpless Miss,” Cynthia put in, “or having him ride too close to you, as if he must be ready to seize your reins.”

“An interesting and interested conversationalist,” Chloe continued. “He doesn’t hold forth interminably, and expect you just to say ‘yes and amen’ but listens to what you have to say.”

“That’s really important,” Ann agreed. “He should also share some of your interests. I could not marry a man who detested music, for example.”

“Yes. He must be kind-hearted, care about his family and be on good terms with them. If he is a widower, he should be a loving father, not just looking for a wife to whom he can abdicate all responsibility for his children.”

“How are you to discover that?” Ann asked.

“That is difficult,” Chloe said. “One can observe his behaviour towards others, listen to how he speaks of his family, but ideally one would have to spend some time with him, say at a house-party—long enough for him to let the company mask fall.”

“Easier said than done,” Cynthia said gloomily. “What about family and fortune?”

“A gentleman, of course. He need not be wealthy, but able to support a wife and family,” Chloe said at once.

“Not a fortune-hunter,” Cynthia said.

“Nor a gambler or a rake,” Ann added. “I suppose we are dependent on our men-folk to ascertain those aspects of his character.”

“We must keep our eyes and ears open,” Chloe said.

“This is all very well,” Cynthia said suddenly, “but what about attraction?”

“Attraction?”

“You know, that indefinable quality that draws you to one gentleman rather than another, has you all aflutter in the ball-room, hoping he will invite you to stand up with him?”

The three girls looked at one another.

“Do you mean love?” Ann asked.

“Not exactly. I think this comes before love. You know what I mean, don’t you? The tremulous feeling when he smiles at you, or the way you dance in perfect harmony?”

“It has to be there too,” Chloe said, “but it can’t be the be-all and end-all, can it? What was that phrase of your old nurse?”

“‘There’s more to marriage than four bare legs in a bed’?” Cynthia recited. “But at the end of the day, that is what it will come down to, will it not? So it is essential that we do not find him distasteful in any way.”

A more solemn silence fell. If pressed, they might admit to having dreamt of a lover’s kisses, and were aware that, in the old phrase, a bedding followed a wedding, that this year’s bride was next year’s young mother. But they had never considered the realities of this natural progression in terms of that shadowy figure to whom ‘one day’ they would cede complete control of their person, becoming, as the law insisted, a femme couverte, subordinate to him in all things.

© Catherine Kullmann 2023

Author Bio:

Catherine Kullmann was born and educated in Dublin. Following a three-year courtship conducted mostly by letter, she moved to Germany where she lived for twenty-five years before returning to Ireland. She has worked in the Irish and New Zealand public services and in the private sector. Widowed, she has three adult sons and two grandchildren.

Catherine has always been interested in the extended Regency period, a time when the foundations of our modern world were laid. She loves writing and is particularly interested in what happens after the first happy end—how life goes on for the protagonists and sometimes catches up with them. Her books are set against a background of the offstage Napoleonic wars and consider in particular the situation of women trapped in a patriarchal society.

She is the author of The Murmur of Masks, Perception & Illusion, A Suggestion of Scandal, The Duke’s Regret, The Potential for Love, A Comfortable Alliance and Lady Loring’s Dilemma.

Catherine also blogs about historical facts and trivia related to this era. You can find out more about her books and read her blog (My Scrap Album) at her website. You can contact her via her Facebook page or on Twitter.

Author Links:

Website:

http://www.catherinekullmann.com

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/CKullmannAuthor

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

Book Bub:

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/catherine-kullmann

Amazon Author Page: http://viewauthor.at/ckullmannamazonpage

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15549457.Catherine_Kullmann

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Release Blitz: The Rock at the Bottom by Cynthia Hilston @cynthiahilston #HistoricalRomance #Giveaway @RABTBookTours

Lorna & Tristan #3

20th Century Historical Fiction / Romance

Date Published: 03-21-2023

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

Stephen feels he is marked from day one to lose the ones he loves. His mother dies giving birth to him, and his alcoholic father makes sure Stephen never forgets it. To block out his father’s hate, fists, and belt, young Stephen loses himself in his imagination. Stories become his closest companions and barricades against a family that never wanted him. Once he can look his father in the eye, Stephen swears he will never be the monster his old man is. He vows he will become a published author, if for no other reason than to prove his father wrong.

While his dreams of being a bestselling novelist and falling in love come true, Stephen has much to prove to himself before he can write his own happy ending. Set against the backdrop of Prohibition-era Cleveland, Stephen fights the same alcoholic demons that plagued his father as he tries to begin a life free from his family. He meets equally headstrong Julie and is smitten, but their marriage is as fractured as his career is solid. He can find ten ways to write about being in love, but he has a hard time translating love on the page to love in real life. Julie slips between his fingers like sand, and Stephen sees his father staring back when he looks in the mirror.

Try as he might to rewrite his life, even going so far as to change his name, he has to wonder if he is the author or the killer of love. 

About the Author

Cynthia Hilston is a stay-at-home mom of three young kids, happily married, and lives in the Cleveland, Ohio, area. Writing has always been like another child to her. After twenty years of waltzing in the world of fan fiction, she stepped away to do her debut dance with original works of fiction, although she still dabbles in fan fiction.

In her spare time – what spare time? – she devours books, shamelessly watches Hallmark movies and When Calls the Heart, pets her orange and black kitties, looks at the stars, drinks wine or coffee with good friends, and dreams of what other stories she wishes to tell.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Blog

Goodreads

Instagram

 

Purchase Link

Amazon

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

RABT Book Tours & PR

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Half Breed’s Lady, by Bobbi Smith #HistoricalRomance @goddessfish#Giveaway

HALF-BREED’S LADY

by Bobbi Smith

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GENRE:  Historical romance

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

To artist Glynna Williams, Texas was a land of wild beauty, carved by God’s hand, untouched as yet by man’s. And the most exciting part of it was the fierce, bare-chested half-breed who saved her from a rampaging longhorn bull. Just as the untamed wilderness called to the painter in her heart, Hunt’s mesmerizing eyes touched the woman in her.

As she spent the days sketching his magnificent body, she dreamed of spending the nights in his strong arms. Glynna knew the paintings she’d done of his Comanche people would guarantee her success as a Western artist, but would she ever succeed in capturing Hunt’s wary heart? He’d been trapped and wounded before by a white woman. Now only the gentle bonds of love could make Glynna the…Half-Breed’s Lady.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Excerpt One:

Glynna hadn’t meant to forget the stage driver’s warning to stay close, but as she roamed away from the road, sketchbook in hand, she became more and more entranced with the beauty of the wilderness surrounding her. Her creativity was urging her on. This landscape was why she’d come to Texas.

She wasn’t sure how far she’d wandered from the stage when a vista unfolded before her that left her enthralled. Low-growing mesquites and cedars provided the perfect frame for the view of a distant mesa. It rose tall and powerful against the horizon, its colors vivid in the brilliance of the afternoon sun. Sitting down on a rock nearby, she never let her gaze shift from the view.

She worked for some time, trying to capture the essence of the wild, untamed land. Her concentration was such that she didn’t hear the rustling in the brush nearby. She was focused only on her work. It was the man’s shout that jarred her back to awareness of where she was, and it was then that she saw him.  A bare-chested warrior, leaning low over his horse’s neck, riding straight for her. The expression on his face was savage, and she was sure his intent was equally frightening. He looked deadly, fierce, and it was then she remembered the stage driver’s warning that renegades might be in the area. Frantic, she looked around, trying to decide where to run. Desperate to escape, she tried to flee. It was then that a strong arm snared her around the waist and hauled her roughly up against him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

After working as a department manager for Famous-Barr, and briefly as a clerk at a bookstore, Bobbi Smith gave up on career security and began writing. She sold her first book to Zebra in 1982. Since then, Bobbi has written over 40 books and several short stories. To date, there are more than five million of her novels in print. She has been awarded the prestigious Romantic Times Storyteller of the Year Award and two Career Achievement Awards. Her books have appeared on numerous bestseller lists. When she’s not working on her novels, she is frequently a guest speaker for writer’s groups. Bobbi is mother of two sons and resides in St. Charles, Missouri with her husband and three dogs.

Website: https://bobbismithauthor.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13375.Bobbi_Smith

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Defiant-Bobbi-Smith-ebook/dp/B009NXLUKE

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

Bobbi Smith will award a randomly drawn winner a $10 Amazon/BN GC

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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historical romance

Forsaking Hope by @BeverleyOakley On Tour #Giveaway #MFRWAuthor



Forsaking Hope
Fair Cyprians of London
By Beverley Oakley

Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here

About the Book: 

Two years ago, she missed their secret assignation and disappeared without a trace. Now the divine “Miss Hope” is in Felix Durham’s bed – a ‘surprise cheering-up gift’ sourced by his friends from London’s most exclusive brothel. Felix is in heaven – and he wants to stay there.

So does Hope, but she can’t.

Hope Merriweather lives by a code of honour – even if she’s a prostitute.

Having sold her soul, she’s prepared to sacrifice everything else to protect what she believes in.

Even if honour – in her eyes – comes at the cost of thieving and breaking hearts. Including her own.

Available for preorder here:
~*~*~*~*~*~
Excerpt: 

Chapter One

Wilfred Hunt.
If there was a name to tip Hope into the abyss of despair she was hearing it spill from Madame Chambon’s lips now as the older woman directed Hope to take a seat in the reception room, presumably so Madame could loom oppressively over her.
With her hands on her ample, expensively padded hips, Hope’s benefactress—procuress, employer and gaoler were other monikers—sent Hope a beetling look that needed no interpreting: Regardless of Hope’s true feelings, Hope must project the required show of warmth and delight at being the chosen one.
Madame patted the side of her faux curls. Years of hot irons had reduced her hair to the texture of wool but her crowning glory these days was supplemented by the lustrous locks of those girls who dared cross her – before they were thrown back into the street from where most had come.
Nevertheless, Hope had to make her resistance clear. Surely Madame who knew her history would understand her loathing for this man, above all others. “I shan’t do it,” she whispered. There was little evidence of the willful child and wild adolescent who’d been the despair of her family. “I won’t—”
Outside, the noise of the traffic rumbling over the cobbles and the shrill calls of competing vendors settled upon the tense silence. Madame Chambon’s other girls, ranged around the sumptuously appointed room on red velvet upholstered banquettes, watched the exchange with prurient fascination. Hope knew it had been a calculated ploy of Madame’s to conduct her interview in public so that Hope would serve as an example to them.
No one crossed Madame Chambon.
The shrill cry of a fishmonger caused Madame to look pointedly out of the window. With something between a smile and a sneer, she smoothed a Marcel wave. “Is that where you plan to return, Hope? The gutter?” Her nose twitched and in the sunlight that filtered into the room, the grooves chiselled between mouth and chin were thrown into harsh relief, highlighted rather than hidden by the thick powder she used to conceal her age.
Madame Chambon’s comfort, now and into retirement, depended on obedient girls. Hope knew that as well as anyone. She’d had to bury her rebellious streak just to ensure food in her belly.
The Frenchwoman raised a chiselled brow and began to pace slowly in front of her girls. A painter with an eye for beauty would have been ecstatic at capturing such a spectacle on canvas. The discerning young man about town who visited 56 Albemarle Street was frequently rendered ecstatic by the range of delights Madame Chambon’s girls offered in addition to the visual.
“You forget yourself, Hope. I put a roof over your head and deck you out as handsomely as Mr Charles Worth ever did for his most discerning customer.” There was acid in Madame Chambon’s tone. “But for me, you’d be starving and glad of the pennies you could trade for a grubby stand-up encounter in a dark alley.” Madame Chambon thrust out her bosom and breathed through her nose, her response a calculated warning to the other girls arranged in various languid poses about the ornately decorated reception room that intransigence would not be tolerated.
“Mr Hunt has requested you.” She paused and when Hope remained silent, though her stance and expression left no one in any doubt as to her horror regarding this enforced assignation, went on. “Remember what I told you—what I tell all my girls when they first come here? The past must be forgotten the moment you step over my threshold. You are reborn, remodelled, refashioned into the most exquisite delectation of womanhood. A marquess, a prince, is well recompensed for the tidy sum he hands over in order to enjoy your sparkling wit, to converse with you in French, or if he chooses, on philosophy…to enjoy your charms…and,” she added significantly, “your gracious hospitality and tender ministrations to his needs. That is our agreement and you are no different. If Mr Hunt wishes you, Hope, to attend him at his residence then you will go.”
Faith, one of the kinder girls, patted Hope’s arm in silent solidarity. Hope didn’t expect any of them to speak up in her defence. Not when they all relied on Madame Chambon as much as she did to provide them with the necessities of life. Anything more than that was part of a strict contract that indentured a girl for life unless she was able to secure a generous benefactor to settle Madame’s severance bill. The fine clothes were part of the charade, necessary to entice a more elite clientele. Hope’s exquisite wardrobe did not belong to her though she’d have forsaken all the dupion silk and Spitalfields lace for the freedom of the gutter and to be mistress of her own destiny – and her body – if she could only be sure of a plate of gravy and potatoes every second day.
Closing her eyes, she hung her head, the carefully coiffed curls that fell forwards brushing against her tear-streaked cheeks. It was as well that they not be in evidence. Tears, weakness, vulnerability were like a red rag to a bull where Madame Chambon was concerned.
“How long…do I have to prepare myself?” She was not so stupid she couldn’t admit defeat when there was no alternative. Obduracy was beaten out of one, but tears ensured a girl got the very worst next assignment. Their clients weren’t all marquesses and princes, though they did require a very fat pocket book.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Hope repeated it in a leaden tone, and stared at her hands, clasped in her lap; white-knuckled. As white as the rabbit-fur that edged her fashionable black-and-white striped satin cuirass. Hope had the tall, slim figure suited to the scandalously tight tie-back skirts that were all the rage, the back flowing into a train adorned with elaborate swags and trimmed with bows. She’d turned heads the length of Oxford Street as she’d promenaded along the pavement following a walk through Hyde Park earlier that afternoon. In fact, for the first time in two years, she’d almost felt happy as she’d pretended a sense of freedom in the afternoon sun, blocking her mind to the prison to which she was returning.
She drew in her breath and forced herself to be brave, knowing the punishment she’d invite for daring to speak her mind. “Please tell Mr Hunt I will see him again under sufferance.”
Madame Chambon’s voice was surprisingly caramel. “Well then, now that you have made your objection clear, Hope, you will be pleased to hear that Mr Hunt’s desires are not only motivated by fond memories of your no-doubt mutually satisfying congress. I believe he wishes to acquaint you with news of your family.”
Hope hid her shock. “I have no family.” With care, she modified her tone so it was as leaden as before though emotion roiled close to the surface.
“Not even a sister?”
Hope raised her chin. Here was the chink and Madame knew it. The woman did her research.
Aware that the other girls who surrounded her were tense with anticipation, Hope struggled not to respond. Camaraderie existed at surface level but one never knew when it might profit one to have the dirt on a fellow prostitute. It was, clearly, another reason Madame Chambon had chosen to make this conversation public.
“Mr Hunt will see you at nine tomorrow evening,” said the so-called Frenchwoman who, it was whispered, was from the gutters of Lambeth, not Paris. “At his apartments in Duke Street. Now go and prepare yourself for Lord Farrow. Married to a monolith like the venerable Lady Farrow, he likes his girls vivacious and free-spirited. There’ll be less coin in your pocket if you sully the transaction with that long face, Hope.”

~*~*~*~*~*~
Author Info: 

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.
Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.
Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.
Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.

You can get in contact with Beverley at:

 

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Devil’s Run by Beverley Oakley On Tour #MFRWAuthor

Devil’s Run 
Scandalous Miss Brightwells series

By Beverley Oakley


Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here

BLURB: 
A rigged horserace and a marriage offer riding on the outcome. When Miss Eliza Montrose unexpectedly becomes legal owner of the horse tipped to win the East Anglia Cup, her future is finally in her hands – but at what cost?

 

George Bramley, nephew to the Earl of Quamby, will wager anything. Even his future bride.

Miss Eliza Montrose will accept any wager to be reunited with the child she was forced to relinquish after an indiscretion — even if it means marrying a man she does not love.

But with her heart suddenly engaged by handsome, charming Rufus Patmore who has just bought a horse from her betrothed George Bramley in whose household her son lives as a pauper child, the outcome of the wager is suddenly fraught with peril.

**This is book 3 in the Scandalous Miss Brightwells series, though it can be read as a stand-alone.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Excerpt: 

Chapter One
“And there’s nothing else you’d like, my dear? No?” Straightening after receiving a polite rebuff, George Bramley found it an effort to keep the syrup in his tone. His bride-to-be had not even looked at him as she’d declined the piece of marchpane he’d been certain would win him at least a smile.
Hovering at her side, he weighed up the advantages of a gentle rebuke, then decided against it. Until yesterday, he’d thought her quiet demeanour suggested a charmingly pliant nature. Now he was not so sure. In fact, suddenly, he was not sure of anything.
“A glass of lemonade, perhaps, my angel? Or a gentle stroll?”
“I would prefer to be left alone.” Miss Montrose waved a languid hand in his general direction, while she continued to gaze at the still lake beside which their picnic party had situated itself.
The languid arm-wave had not even been accompanied by a demure thank you as subtle acknowledgement of her gratitude that not only had Mr Bramley, heir to a viscountcy, stepped in to rescue Miss Eliza Montrose from impoverishment, he was prepared to treat her publicly as if she were as fine a catch as he could have made.
A soft titter brought his head round sharply, but the ladies behind him, bent over the latest Ackerman’s Repository, appeared occupied with their own gossip as they lounged on cushions beneath the canopy that had been erected to protect them from the sun.
Awkwardly, he looked for occupation as he continued to eye his intended with a mixture of irritation and desire—both lustful desire, and the desire to put her in her place.
The idea of the latter made him harden. She was beautiful, this quiet, apparently retiring, young woman who said so little, but whose eyes spoke such volumes. The afternoon sun glinted on her honey-gold hair and imbued her porcelain skin with a warm glow. The skin that he could see, at any rate.
He pushed back his shoulders. On their wedding night in six weeks, when he’d at last take possession of her, he’d rip that modesty to shreds. The skin she was so at pains to hide would be his, not only to see, but to caress and taste. When she was his wife, the beautiful, distant Miss Eliza Montrose would no longer get away with paying George Bramley so little attention. No, he’d have her screaming and writhing at his command. He would make her like the things he did to her; or at least, show him she did if she enjoyed harmony as much as she appeared to. None of this languid reclining like a half-drugged princess in his presence. He’d keep her on her toes, ready to leap to his bidding at the sound of his footstep. She’d learn to be grateful.
Feeling ignored and superfluous, he turned to his uncle’s detestable wife, Lady Quamby, and said with a smile, “Perhaps you and Miss Montrose would like to accompany me to the turret. Since you appear to have enjoyed this new novel, Northanger Abbey, so much, you might be interested to know there is an excellent view of the ruined monastery not far from here.”
He was just priding himself on being so attuned to the feminine inclination for pleasure, when Lady Quamby half turned and sent him a desultory smile. “Oh, I think Miss Eliza looks perfectly comfortable, and Fanny and I are having such a lovely little coze.” As if imitating Miss Montrose, she waved a languid hand in his general direction. “Why don’t you take Mr Patmore off to see it? The two of you can tell us all about it when you return.”
The fact that Miss Montrose didn’t deign to even speak for herself, much less glance in his direction, sent the blood surging to Bramley’s brain. By God, when he was married to Eliza Montrose, the limpid look of love so lacking now would be pasted onto her face every time he crossed her line of vision. She’d soon learn what was good for her.
He inclined his head, hiding his fury, and was on the point of leaving when Lady Quamby’s sister, Fanny —for he’d be damned if he’d accord the little strumpet the title of Lady Fenton—leapt up from her chair. She’d been poring over the latest fashions, but now she smiled brightly up at him.
“I’ll come with you, Cousin George. We’ll have an excellent view of the  children learning to row from the battlements. I told Nanny Brown she could take them in the two boats if they’d been good.”
Bramley stared down her liveliness. In fact, he was about to give up the idea of going up to the battlements altogether when his other guest, Rufus Patmore, suddenly rose and joined Fanny’s side with a late and unexpected show of enthusiasm.
“Capital idea!” declared Rufus.
George flashed them both a dispassionate look. He’d chosen to invite his betrothed, Miss Montrose—whose chaperone was currently tucked up in the green bed chamber nursing a head cold—to be his guest at his uncle’s estate, Quamby House, after receiving intelligence that Ladies Quamby and Fenton would be safely in London with their husbands and children. Instead, the brazen Brightwell sisters—as they’d infamously been called when he’d first made their acquaintance—had altered their plans, and were now in dogged attendance, reminding him as they always had, of some awful tenacious climbing plant, determined to find a foothold wherever they could in order to rise in the world.
Rufus, a last-minute addition and acquaintance from his club, Boodles, was here because he’d just purchased a horse from Bramley the night before. Now, Rufus was gazing at Lady Fenton, with the same dewy-eyed fondness George was used to seeing reflected in the eye of his uncle, the Earl of Quamby, who called the Brightwell sisters his precious rose-buds. To George, they were common dandelions! And now they had overridden Quamby House, the rambling Queen Anne manor house and estate that would have passed to George the moment his uncle quit this mortal coil, were it not for the snotty-nosed infant Lady Quamby had borne far too early in her marriage to George’s uncle.
George shook his head. He’d changed his mind. Only, there was Rufus striding across the lawn, skirting the lake with Fanny at his side, and George didn’t want to be seen as petulant for having offered the suggestion in the first place. Or have his snubbed and ignored status so much on parade, since the two remaining ladies—Miss Montrose and Lady Quamby—had their heads bent together in deep discussion, with no apparent interest in seeking his company.
By God, he thought, clenching his fists as he set off after them at a brisk trot, they’d all rue the day they showed George Bramley so little respect.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Author Info: 

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.
Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.
Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.
Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.
You can get in contact with Beverley at:

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Beverly Oakley On Tour ~ #Giveaway #MFRWAuthor


The Duchess and the Highwayman
By Beverley Oakley

Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate and an ebook The Mysterious Governess.to randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here
BLURB: 

A duchess disguised as a lady’s maid; a gentleman parading as a highwayman.
She’s on the run from a murderer, he’s in pursuit of one…

In a remote Norfolk manor, Phoebe, Lady Cavanaugh is wrongfully accused by her servants of her brutal husband’s murder.

There’s little sympathy in the district for the duchess who’s taken a lover and made clear she despised her husband. The local magistrate has also vowed revenge since Lady Cavanaugh rebuffed his advances.

When Phoebe is discovered in the forest wearing only a chemise stained with the blood of her murdered husband, she persuades the noble ‘highwayman’ who rescues her that she is Lady Cavanaugh’s maidservant.
Hugh Redding has his own reasons for hunting down the man who would have Phoebe tried and hanged for murder. He plans to turn ‘the maidservant with aspirations above her station’ into the ‘lady’ who might testify against the very villain who would see Phoebe dead.

But despite the fierce attraction between Phoebe and the ‘highwayman’, Phoebe is not in a position to admit she’s the ‘murderous duchess’ hunted across the land.

Seizing an opportunity to strike at the social and financial standing of the man who has profited by her distress, Phoebe is drawn into a dangerous intrigue.

But when disaster strikes, she fears Hugh will lack the sympathy or understanding of her unusual predicament to even want to save her a second time.

Buy Links: 
Amazon | All other buy links

~*~*~*~*~*~
Excerpt:

“The doctor doubts Ulrick will make Michelmas.” The lazy drawl of her husband’s cousin punctuated the silence as Phoebe resumed her position in an armchair by the fire.
Wentworth raised his cut glass tumbler to the light as he sighed in appreciation of Ulrick’s best brandy. He took a sip and smacked his lips, meeting Phoebe’s eye across her sleeping husband whom she’d made more comfortable in his large leather armchair with the tasselled cushion Phoebe had embroidered to support his neck.
The odious creature could not help but interpret Phoebe’s critical expression correctly, but there was no defensiveness in his tone as he chuckled. “The old bastard can’t enjoy his riches when he’s gone.” His teeth were white; sharp and wolfish beneath his black moustache and Phoebe looked away, pretending concentration on her handiwork while her stomach clenched with revulsion and fear. She would not dignify Wentworth’s grasping remarks with a response.
For a few minutes Ulrick’s wheezing, rattling cough and the hiss of the fire broke the silence. The harsh caw of a raven in the darkness made Phoebe jump but she kept her fingers busy with her embroidery and her head averted from Wentworth’s hard stare.
Tonight? Would Wentworth insist on claiming her tonight, with Ulrick so very ill and likely to need her?
Wentworth drained his glass, placing the empty vessel clumsily upon the low table beside him. Empty vessel. It’s what she’d always been made to feel as Ulrick’s wife. “Ulrick was always mean with his liquor. A good supply for his heir, then, eh, Phoebe?” Ulrick’s Heir. Wentworth imbued the word with the disgust he’d always felt for the fact that Wentworth was not Ulrick’s heir. It was hardly better than the reproach that had always hardened Ulrick’s tone in the days he could speak and implied that Phoebe had failed in providing him with a son to continue the family line.
Phoebe glanced up and saw Wentworth’s thin lips were pursed, observing fleetingly that he looked like a malevolent raven, his dark eyes glittering in the face she’d once thought so handsome. She tried not to show her fear.
“How long do you suppose it’ll take my brother to drink the lot once he inherits?” There it was. The bitterness he didn’t bother to hide.
“Hush, Wentworth. You’ll wake Ulrick.” Phoebe cast the sleeping invalid a nervous look.
“The doctor opines that our poorly Lord Cavanaugh will not last three months.” Wentworth didn’t trouble to lower his voice. “My guess is he’ll be gone long before Michealmas.”
Phoebe could bear it no longer. She dropped her handiwork into her lap and sent her husband’s regular and increasingly unwelcome guest an imploring look. “Please, Wentworth. He’s not dead yet. Have the good grace to keep such thoughts to yourself. What if he hears you?”
Wentworth gave a short laugh. “What do I have to lose by my graveyard talk? It’s not as if Ulrick’s in any position to deny me what my imbecile brothers already have simply by virtue of them being alive.”
How many times had she heard the same complaints? Phoebe forced aside her weary frustration and rose. “I’m going to bed.”

~*~*~*~*~*~
Author Info: 

 

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.
Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.
Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.
Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.
You can get in contact with Beverley at:

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