Showing posts with label Regency romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Regency romance. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

No typical lady - #RegencyRomance #MarriageGame #Giveaway @ellaquinnauthor


Book cover
Blurb

Polite society has its rules for marriage. But for Ella Quinn’s eligible bachelors, their brides will show them that rules are for the faint of heart . . .

Phoebe Stanhope is not a typical Lady. As feisty as she is quick witted, no one can catch her, especially when she is driving her dashing phaeton with its perfectly matched horses. And unlike her peers, experience has guarded her against a growing list of would-be suitors. But when she encounters Marcus Finley, what she fears most burns deep within his blue-eyed gaze . . .

For Lord Marcus, the spark of recognition is but a moment in the love he has held these many years. Now that he’s returned to England, all the happiness he desires rests on Lady Phoebe never finding out that he was the one who turned her heart so cold and distant. He must work fast to gain the advantage—to convince her what she wants is exactly what she denies—but in order to seduce her into his arms, he must be willing to give up more than he can control . . .


Excerpt

Marcus Finley arrived at the White Horse Inn with his friend Robert, Viscount Beaumont, who had reserved rooms there. Marcus found chambers across the street at the Red Unicorn. They met later to dine in a private parlor Marcus hired.

Quite good ordinary they have here.” Robert sat back in his chair, crossing one highly polished boot over the other. “The brandy is as good as any I’ve had. Must be French, though I don’t wish to know how the landlord came by it.”

Marcus grinned. “Yes, it’s very good and probably smuggled.”

Silence fell for a few moments, then Robert sat straight up in his chair. “Marcus, my boy, I saw the most beautiful gal I’ve ever seen in my life at the White Horse.”

Marcus lounged in his chair, lifting a brow in inquiry. Robert was known to be a favorite with the many disenchanted matrons of the ton.

And where did you find this paragon of nature?” Marcus asked in a languid drawl. “In the tap?”

No, no, my boy, not a game-pullet. Not at all. She was a lady.”

Marcus raised his quizzing glass and regarded his friend more closely. “Married?”

No. Put that thing away, you know I don’t like it. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with me. She is a well-bred, unmarried lady. Beautiful, I tell you. Tiny. Has a good figure, quite a neat ankle, and the most gorgeous gold-red hair. Perfect in every way.”

Marcus’s fingers tightened around his glass. Robert’s conquests were legend, but they didn’t extend to well-bred innocents. A terrifying thought began to fill Marcus’s mind. It couldn’t be Phoebe. She was at Cranbourne Place.

He fought to keep his face calm, his gaze focused on his friend. “Who is this lady, do you know?”

Yes, got my groom to ask one of the ostlers. Stupid fellows, those ostlers, giving out that kind of information,” Lord Beaumont ruminated, definitely on the go. “Yes, now that I think on it, I believe I shall have a word with the landlord. The servants ought not be giving that sort of thing out.”

Marcus tapped his fingers on the table. “Her name, Robert?”

Her name?” Marcus repeated and waved an impatient hand to encourage his friend to continue.

Oh, yes,” Robert finally said. “Lady Phoebe Stanhope. Heard of her of course. Never seen her before. Don’t, as a rule, attend those types of events. Not much for the Grand Strut you know. Must avoid the matchmaking mamas. M’grandmother’s been after me to marry. Lady Phoebe is a devilish good looking gal. I may have to make a push.”

Marcus fumed. Lady Phoebe. His Vision. Friends or no, he would be damned if he’d let Robert anywhere near her.

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Ella Quinn's studies and other jobs have always been on the serious side. Reading historical romances, especially Regencies, were her escape. Eventually her love of historical novels led her to start writing them.

She is married to her wonderful husband of over thirty years. They have a son and two beautiful granddaughters, and a Great Dane. After living in the South Pacific, Central America, North Africa, England and Europe, she and her husband decided to make their dreams come true and are now living on a sailboat. After cruising the Caribbean and North America, she completed a transatlantic crossing from St. Martin to Southern Europe. She's currently living in Germany, happily writing while her husband is back at work, recovering from retirement.

Ella loves it when readers connect with her.

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Monday, February 4, 2019

An Earl of Her Own - #Regency #Giveaway @Heather_Boyd

An Earl of Her Own banner

Heather is giving away a print edition of The Duke and I and A Gentleman’s Vow during the tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember there is a chance to enter everyday so be sure to follow the Blog Tour. You may find the tour schedule and locations here https://goo.gl/qw8v5J

About An Earl Of Her Own

Marriage is about finding that special someone you want to annoy for the rest of your life!

Rebecca Warner’s devotion to her family is the perfect distraction from the loneliness of widowhood. Not that she’d ever admit a need for someone special in her life after her husband’s betrayal. With the responsibility of arranging her sister’s wedding falling into her lap, Rebecca has no time for a certain maddening earl bent on seducing her—until he proves her most ardent ally.

For Adam Croft, Earl of Rafferty, what began as an amusing pursuit—shocking Rebecca Warner—becomes something deeper when he recognizes how perfect a wife and mother she would make. Adam’s keenly aware of his loneliness…and that his habit to curb it with drink lost him Becca’s respect. He’ll happily change his ways to win her approval, but what more can he do to win her love?

Release Date: FEBRUARY 12, 2019
Length: approx. 300 pages
Heat: steamy Regency romance


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Excerpt

You are hurt, worse than you want to say,” Rebecca Warner whispered.

Her soft green eyes were filled with real concern, something Adam had never expected to see on her face. “Well, that is disappointing.”

Disappointing?” Rebecca immediately began searching through his hair for the wound, and he chose to imagine it a sensual caress until she spoke again. “You have a gash to your head that has bled. Dear God, you could have died.”

Always looking on the bright side,” he murmured, and then noticed how close the lady was to his body. He inhaled slowly, delighted in this unexpectedly rare treat. Mrs. Warner had never been the friendliest sort. “You smell nice.”

Really, Rafferty,” she chided. She suddenly slipped her hand inside his coat, rummaged in his pockets and began to dab at his head with the handkerchief she found there. “This is hardly the time to worry about my perfume.”

As you say, I could have been killed. Seems like an appropriate time for noticing the little things in life that please me.” He felt pain and hissed. Eager for a distraction, he dropped his gaze to her shoulder—now bare of the shawl, which had fallen away unnoticed by the lady. The respectable garment Rebecca had worn to church, so stylish and modest, was less so now thanks to the accident. The struggle out of the carriage seemed to have ripped the seam apart, and her pale skin looked very soft and inviting. He curled his fingers into the skirt of her gown and held it.
Lovely.”

She drew back to peer into his eyes again, and then she glanced down at his fist. “What are you doing?”


What was he doing? Adam had no idea, but he wasn’t of a mind to stop.



Saints and Sinners series:

Book 1: The Duke and I (Nicolas and Gillian) - https://amzn.to/2Thss0C

Book 2: A Gentleman’s Vow (Gideon and Jessica) - https://amzn.to/2Tc3kso

Book 3: An Earl of Her Own (Adam and Rebecca) - https://amzn.to/2G2HCmT

About the Author

Determined to escape the Aussie sun on a scorching camping holiday, Heather picked up a pen and notebook from a corner store and started writing her very first novel—Chills. Eight years later, she is the author of over thirty romances and publisher of several anthologies too. Addicted to all things tech (never again will Heather write a novel longhand) and fascinated by English society of the early 1800’s, Heather spends her days getting her characters in and out of trouble and into bed together (if they make it that far). She lives on the edge of beautiful Lake Macquarie, Australia with her trio of mischievous rogues (husband and two sons) along with one rescued cat whose only interest in her career is that it provides him with food on demand. You can find details of Heather's work at www.heather-boyd.com

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Thursday, March 1, 2018

Kryssie’s First Regency! @KryssieFortune #Regency #spanking #heiress

Wickedly Used cover

I’m thrilled to help celebrate my friend Kryssie Fortune’s first Regency romance. Here’s a short interview, plus a luscious blurb and excerpt from Wickedly Used.

Give us an insight into your main character. What does he/she do that is so special?

My heroine, Lady Elizabeth Blayneton is an heiress, but she can’t inherit until she marries or turns thirty. Her uncle and guardian is determined she will marry his slack-mouthed son, but she’d rather not marry at all than wed him. Only she doesn’t want to die a virgin.

Tell us about your hero.

Brigade Major Lord Rothbury carries the wounds his first love inflicted when she threw him over for his father. To silence the gossip, his father packed him off to fight in the Peninsula war and squandered the family fortune on his new bride.

When the current Lord Rothbury inherited, there was nothing but mortgages and debts. He’s been trying to put things right and provide for his sisters ever since. Waterloo looms, and he’s recalled to Wellington’s staff. Then there’s this serving girl who keeps ending up in his bed, only wedding her would cause another scandal and ruin his sisters’ future.

What draws you to this genre?

I write the books I like to read. There’s always a strong plot, with lots of adventure. Then there’s the sex. ;^)

I write romance. Any sort. Paranormal or contemporary. Wickedly Used is my first Regency Romance, although it’s darker than many.

My pet hate is cliff hangers. Each book in either of my series can be read as stand-alone romance. Add in that I’m a sucker for a happy-ever-after, and you’ve got my writing style.

Blurb

While he is no stranger to pleasurable company from ladies of the night, Major Richard Rothbury of the royal dragoons is not the kind of man who will stand idly by as a woman is taken against her will, and when he witnesses a disreputable cad attempting to force himself on a girl in a back alley, he does not hesitate to intervene.

But after the grateful young woman offers herself to Rothbury, he is shocked to discover that not only was she no harlot, she was a maiden and he has deflowered her. Furious at the girl’s scandalous behavior and her carelessness with her own safety, Rothbury chastises her soundly.

Though she is due to inherit one of the largest fortunes in England, the fact that she cannot touch the money until she marries or turns thirty has kept Elizabeth completely at the mercy of her cruel uncle, and for years she has been treated as if she were a servant. Her encounter with Lord Rothbury is by far the most exciting thing that has ever happened to her, but while he shows great concern for her safety, he refuses to believe that she is anything more than a serving girl.

Despite having made it clear that he doesn’t consider a match between them to be possible, when Elizabeth disobeys him Rothbury proves more than ready to strip her bare, punish her harshly, and then enjoy her beautiful body in the most shameful of ways. But can she dare to hope that he will one day make her his wife, or is she destined to spend her life being wickedly used?

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Excerpt

The dragoon bristled when he glowered at Dawlish. Catching both her wrists in one hand, her rescuer held her at arms’ length. The breadth of his chest fascinated her, and she could sense his inner strength. She shuddered then stilled, but her heart still beat overtime in her chest.

Dawlish was older, with a thickset body and a mouth as mean as her uncle’s. Her dragoon’s good looks and protective manner delighted her. He had stepped in and saved her, sort of, but his gaze condemned her as Dawlish’s whore. He felt more friend than foe, but he looked ready to march away when she needed him to stay.

Lifting her head, she tried to sound brave. “Please, sir, let me pass.”

When he didn’t move, she tugged one hand free of his hold and shoved at his chest. He recaptured it in an instant. “Damn it, girl. Stand still for a minute.”

His touch sent a series of lightning strikes down her spine. Her nipples pearled and poked at the thin fabric of her gown. With him, she could fulfill her wickedest dream. The one where she gave her virginity to a handsome stranger. Memories of a stolen moment of passion would sustain her until she turned thirty—she hoped.

Dawlish snarled like a mongrel ready to fight over a bone. He still fumbled to lace up his breeches. “I saw her first. Come here, girl. I’ll pay whatever price you demand once you’ve spread your thighs for me.”

Self-conscious and horrified, Elizabeth stared at the ground. After six years of her cousins’ insults, she felt like the nonentity they called her. She hated that. Back before her parents died, she’d felt pretty. Her mother had told her that her hair shone like moonlight and her eyes gleamed like the palest topaz.

Washed out, her cousins called them.

For her dragoon, she wanted to be beautiful. She took a step closer to him. “I’m not here by choice, sir. I swear it.”

He spoke softly as if soothing a spooked mare. “Easy, girl. Allow me to escort you back to the Grand Walk.”

Dawlish yanked her wrist free of the dragoon’s grip and dragged her toward him. His touch felt like a million spiders scuttling over her skin. Does the wretched man ever bathe? Solid, square, and sweaty, he leered at her through piggy eyes. “Come on, Blondie, name your price.”

Just when she thought the dragoon’s gaze couldn’t be any colder, it turned into an arctic blast. Mouth set in a straight line, he pried Dawlish’s fingers from her wrist. “She’s not willing. Leave her be.”

The vein in Dawlish’s forehead bulged. His cheeks turned mottled scarlet. He shoved at the dragoon’s chest like a schoolboy spoiling for a fight. Her rescuer curled his lip and brushed him aside.

Once Dawlish realized he couldn’t move her dragoon, he shoved Elizabeth behind him. “Rothbury? Playing the hero? After the way you screwed your family? I don’t think so. Lavinia will laugh when I tell her you’ve taken to defending whores. Back off, and mind your own business. This little pigeon’s mine.”

The look the dragoon—Rothbury—gave Dawlish would have curdled milk. The atmosphere felt thick with menace. Elizabeth felt sure there were undercurrents at play here that she didn’t understand.

Rothbury’s jaw clenched with carefully suppressed anger. “The lady’s changed her mind.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. Dawlish made her feel dirty and cheap. She pulled her free of his grip and shoved at his back. When he stared at her over his shoulder, his gaze held a degrading mix of menace and desire. “She’ll be willing once we’ve agreed on the price. Besides, you can have her when I’ve finished.”

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 Unkown 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.

Social Media Links

Amazon Author Page http://amzn.to/2hA0ZVO

Thursday, July 27, 2017

The Perils of Servant Life during the Regency (@BeverleyOakley #historical #giveaway #murder)

The Duchess and the Highwayman cover

By Beverley Oakley (Guest Blogger)

A servant working in a Georgian, Regency or Victorian household – the time periods in which my books are set – was very much at the mercy of her employer. These were the days before unions, Occupational Health and Safety, or income protection insurance mitigated against the ill fortune of being injured, or taken advantage of by a harsh mistress, or a young man with a roving eye.

The mistress of the household was often the arbiter of a servant’s future.
Many of my romances follow the lives of the young ladies in high society but in my latest story, The Duchess and the Highwayman, my heroine, Phoebe, pretends to be a servant after she’s wrongfully accused of murder. As a duchess, in satin and lace, with an educated voice and bearing, she’d be recognised instantly. However, in order to exist below the radar of the local magistrate whose advances she’s recently rejected, she believes her chances of survival are greater by disappearing into the great unwashed – a servant below notice.

For a long time she succeeds, but only through luck and the kindness of the ‘highwayman’ who rescues her from her vengeance-filled lover who’s just framed her for her husband’s murder.

Luck certainly had a role in the happiness of a servant’s life. For most servants, survival depended on their obedience and almost complete subjugation to the wishes of their employers in return for a roof over their heads, food and small wages.

Their ‘character’ or reputation was crucial to securing work and many a girl cast out from a secure job without a ‘character’ ended up on the streets, unable to secure more work because their previous employer refused to vouch for her.

Recently, I came upon a gem of a book discovered in a pile once belonging to my grandmother who was born in 1903. Titled The Complete Letter Writer for Ladies and Gentlemen, the book, published in 1908, offers a raft of letters designed to be used as templates for prospective employers, lovers writing to upbraid a flirtatious fiancée or to break off an engagement.

Below are two examples of suggested wording offered by this indispensible companion to any mistress of a household eager to ensure that her little “below stairs” dominion was augmented by a girl of good character.

Heres thecharactera servant would hope her prospective employer would receive with all her questions answered in the affirmative.

Mrs. A will feel much obliged if Mrs. B. will kindly give her the character of Mary Jones, who has applied to Mrs. A for the situation of housemaid. Mrs. A. will be glad to know if Mary Jones is honest and respectable; clean in her work and person, and likely to suit. Is she good-tempered and obliging and tidy in her work?

If Mrs. B. will kindly answer these questions and reply fully in confidence Mrs. A will feel greatly indebted to her.

LAUREL VILLA, ESSEX ROAD, N.,

But woe betide the fate of the poor, high-spirited girl referred to in the following letter:

Dear Madam,

My answer to your note as to Mary Gray must, I am sorry to have to say it, be unfavourable. I was upon the point of dismissing her when your note arrived, as I consider her quite an unfit person to be left alone in the house. She is excessively indolent and very fond of a class of company that a girl ought not to see.

Believe me, Madam.

Yours Sincerely,

BARBARA ALDWIN

The book is a real glimpse into the past and filled with gems.


I am 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.

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Excerpt

Hugh stared after her and when he’d regained his senses he found he was unconsciously touching his mouth with the fingertips of his right hand.

Damn, but she’d taken him by surprise with that kiss of hers. Even still his lips were burning.

At the window he gripped the sill and stared down the modest drive that led from the cottage to the road.

She’d asked him what he’d hoped to achieve by accosting Wentworth at pistol point. Honour for his sister. Yes, it had been rash but he’d been in his cups when he’d come up with the plan to prove to Ada that not all men were smooth-talking confidence tricksters who led vulnerable women down the road to ruin.

There was also the small chance of exacting some retribution from the man. A marriage proposal had been his ultimate aim though when he’d confidently told Ada he’d ensure Wentworth did the honourable thing she’d burst into tears and said she’d not marry him if he were the last man on God’s earth.

Well, Hugh didn’t much fancy Wentworth for a brother-in-law either but he did love his sister exceedingly and surely marriage was better than ruin or the convent, as Ada had at one stage desired.

And contrary to what Phoebe believed, Ada and he had grown up without a mother and Hugh had had a more than usual guiding influence on his young sibling which was why’d felt Ada’s failure was somehow his.

He fingered the scar on his wrist, sustained during a childhood show of chivalry on behalf of his sister’s honour. Phoebe’s talk of just now had unleashed a veritable storm of emotions. Surprisingly, her talk about exacting retribution in the form of depriving Wentworth of what he most wanted kept replaying itself in his head.

She’d sounded so confident but what could a maidservant know about exacting retribution from a man like Wentworth? Who was she really? A village child born in some humble hovel? Her beauty had no doubt opened a number of doors. Could she have had a noble protector who’d left her to slide back into servitude? Is that where she’d learned to speak and act like a lady?

He touched his finger to his lips once more. Ha, that precious innocence of hers for which she’d not barter a dress was a tall tale. Only a woman experienced in the ways of men would have been so bold as to plant a kiss like the one she’d given him. A woman used to being paraded and feted by a gentleman.

Perhaps, as she claimed, she could be useful to him.

But she’d need a little coaching. He couldn’t afford for her to embarrass them both by proving her low birth during an unguarded moment.

He smoothed back his hair and regulated his breathing. Yes, he would take Phoebe in hand and teach her how to be a lady.

Then he’d make her his mistress and she could have all the gowns she chose, within reason.

About the Author

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 starring 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: