Thursday, October 13, 2011

Emma's Stop on the Hop

I love this time of the year when the leaves are glorious and the skies so blue. I also enjoy chatting about my Traditional Regency novels.

    Why do I sit in Western New York and write about a period of English history known as the Regency (1811-1820)? I fell in love with the genre when I was a teenager-which was a very long time ago. I have no idea how many Regency books I’ve read since then or how many different authors I’ve met along the way--but a lot. When I decided to write my own stories, a regency just fell out of my fingertips, almost without my control. The novel must have been living in my head for awhile like another language. And then the second one popped out. And a third. This was the Vicar’s Daughters 3. It didn’t seem fair to leave the two younger sisters out of it, so their stories were told as well. I hope you enjoy my Regencies as much as I liked writing them. 

    Below is a sample of  Melanie’s story, A SCANDALOUS DESIGN,  which is due to publish the 21st of this month. BELINDA, MY LOVE, the youngest daughter will publish November 4th.

A PASSIONATE LOVE, Frances’ story is available NOW AURORA REGENCY @ MUSA PUBLISHING.  A free copy of A Passionate Love will be presented by a drawing at the end of the week.

Melanie Robinson on the road to London meets a widowed French woman and a handsome aristocrat. The first she makes a partner in a clandestine business venture. The second she hopes will become her partner in love for life, if she can reconcile her need to create with her love’s strict social requirements for his bride.

A handsome rogue enters the picture when the arrogant lord makes a misstep, leaving Melanie the object of gossip. Lord Pearson returns to town thinking he has lost his love, while Melanie assumes he is upset over her business ventures. Can the handsome lord manage to recapture his love’s attention or will she turn to the man who best understands her unusual ambitions
Excerpt-- A Scandalous Design
    Can a vicar’s daughter give up her career ambitions to marry the man she loves?
    “Oh, oh,” the gentleman said.
Startled out of her daze, Melanie reached to open the door and found it, as she suspected, locked against her. Her face flushed as she realized how totally unacceptable the state of her dress was for public viewing. She kept her back turned to the opposite hall and the interested spectator as she tried to tuck her bare toes underneath her gown. She gentled and lowered her voice as she cajoled to the closed door.

      “Come now, dear. Please open the door. This is my room, and I must be allowed entry.” She heard the girl sobbing loudly inside. 

      “What a turn-up,” she heard the stranger behind her say with a chuckle.

Melanie would not allow this situation to upset her composure. It had never been in her nature to be easily overset. She turned and looked at the hero of the moment.

    “Do you know this girl?” she asked him pointedly but politely. 

    “Actually, I do know her,” he answered with a twinkle in his eye as he gazed into hers, “but not on a personal basis.“ I saw her in the public room a few minutes ago serving up glasses of ale to a group of young gentlemen. One of them apparently was misinformed about her interest in him. He is to be forgiven, I believe. Most tavern maids are rather more...err...congenial than this one seems to be, if you will pardon my saying so, Miss...?”He ended his sentence with a question suggesting she should tell him her name. 

      Melanie gave him a reproachful look, as she ignored the bold hint to introduce herself, and turned to confront the ancient wooden door once more. She knocked firmly and called out. 

      “Miss? Please open the door. I really do need to come inside. I am not dressed to be  public. Miss?” She turned back to the stranger. “Did you happen to hear her name?”

    “Anne? Annie? No, I think Annie Marie. Try that.”

    He leaned against the wall exceedingly diverted by this gorgeous, gray-eyed maiden who was managing, in spite of her situation, to maintain her sangfroid.  He had spotted those bare, pink toes peeking from underneath her skirt and gave a soft laugh, finding himself amused at her predicament and wondering when her chaperone would be showing up, as her cultured voice had informed him of her social standing. Knowing his duty as a gentleman, he stood ready to help her out if it appeared she might face a scandal from this unfortunate incident. Meanwhile he meant to enjoy this unexpected comedic-drama as it played out before him. It was better than a Shakespearean play. He glanced down at the youngster playing the part of the villain still asleep on the floor. Silly young cub.

      She could not be left for long standing out in the hall with her hair falling like corn silk down her back. There were several more young gentlemen with much too much celebration inside them to mind their manners when temptation this lovely was at hand. His own fingers twitched to touch that glorious mane to find out if it could possibly be as soft as it looked. 

      He did not think he had ever seen hair quite that shade of blonde. Was it the color of bubbling champagne? No, maybe more wheat than that, he mused as he stood with arms crossed propped against the wall watching Melanie try the door once more. Silky wheat, he thought, nodding his head with conviction and laughed at the thought that wheat could ever be the texture of silk. His knuckles whitened as he fought a sudden urge to plunge his fingers into that silken waterfall and tumble the lady into his waiting arms.


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