Publishing 12th May 2014
Crimson Romance
Will be available to purchase at available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes
When Lord Alec Carstairs returns from war, hailed as a hero, only Annabelle Layton knows the sort of man he really is. They’d been friends before a passionate kiss changed everything, before a reckless wager left her broken and bloodied, and he abandoned her.
Hardly the actions of a hero.
But shocking lies have distorted the past. Can Alec uncover its painful truths, and still keep his distance? Can he deny his forbidden desire, even as it flares hotter than ever?
Guest Expert:
In all honesty, men have always swarmed about me like honeybees. I was blessed to be born beautiful, and not a day has passed since that has ever made me regret that good fortune.
However, I will let you in on a little secret. Confidence is the real key to beauty. Take my darling niece, Annabelle Layton, as an example. She’s quite the most beautiful thing. However, she has lost the confidence that such a gift bestows. She’s let an old infirmity color her self image, and allowed herself to overlooked.
Anytime that you ignore your gifts, whatever they may be, you risk the same fate.
Confidence is the most powerful weapon a woman can yield. If you want to be attractive to the opposite sex, realize that you have opinions worth sharing. Know that you have your own, unique blessings, and recognize them for what they are. Allow yourself to grow and mature whenever the opportunity to do so presents itself. Nothing is so beautiful as a woman who is comfortable with how she looks, how she speaks, how she interacts with others.
In other words, embrace yourself, and another type of embrace is destined to follow.
If you have any additional questions, come visit me atMarchmain House in “Once Upon A Wager.” I always have teacakes and a bottle of brandy at the ready.
Excerpt
Just as evening fell, Alec walked up the crushed stone drive to Astley Castle. Despite its rather grandiose name, it was more accurately a fortified manor house, although it did have a moat. Briefly the home of Lady Jane Grey, England’s unfortunate Nine Days Queen, it had also served as a garrison for Cromwell’s forces during the Civil War before passing into the Layton family. Tonight, however, the house gave no hint of its troubled history. Japanese lanterns were strung, not only in the trees leading up the drive, but also in those surrounding the house, and the effect was magical. In the early dusk, a gentle light bathed the grounds, softening the lines of the old home, coloring it with pale pinks and darker purples. Alec heard strains of music and conversation. In fact, it appeared to be a remarkably conventional party, which was something of a surprise. Surely, circus animals were lurking somewhere.
The oversized front door was open to the evening air, and dozens of people were assembled in the Great Hall, which was brightly lit with wall lanterns. Chandeliers decked with wax candles flickered high above as Gareth’s parents received their guests. Sir Frederick, who often panicked in crowds, was hiding his misgivings well, and Lady Layton was radiant beside him. Gareth stood next to her, dressed in a colorful approximation of evening attire, but he seemed distracted. His eyes were darting the crowd and looking for someone. A footman with the champagne tray, no doubt. Alec did not see Annabelle.
But then familiar, melodious laughter washed over him, and he turned. A willowy, honey-tressed blonde stood at the center of a crowd of adoring men. Her face was hidden from view, but her gown—the color of moonlight—caressed her curves like a lover. Alec braced himself, every nerve taut. As if sensing his presence, she looked over her shoulder and smiled.
God in Heaven, he should never have come here tonight.
Annabelle had been only four years old the first time he saw her. He’d joined his mother on a neighborly visit to Astley Castle, and the little girl had utterly charmed him, struggling to sit still while Lady Layton served tea to her guests. Delicate, soft, and pink, like a rosy-cheeked doll, she’d roused all his protective instincts before kicking him in the shins to gain his attention.
If only he could see the girl she’d once been in the woman standing before him. Even two years ago, there had been hints of her, hiding in the body of a goddess. But there was nothing childlike about Annabelle now. She was spectacularly lovely, with arched brows, high cheekbones, and cornflower blue eyes that took his breath away.
Excusing herself from her admirers, she walked toward him with a slow smile. Then again, walking was not the right word. Swaying was the better choice, and all he could do was stand there, heart slamming in his chest as she approached, the gossamer silk gown caressing her curves. Were it dampened—as was the fashion with London’s faster set—it would be almost transparent. Just like that morning when she had gone swimming in the fountain, casting a spell over him like a sorceress.
About the Author
© William Donlin of Studio D, Berwick PA
A Georgetown University graduate with a degree in English Literature, I have been a Regency romance addict since I read my first deliciously bad Barbara Cartland novel. These days, I prefer the complex characterizations and plotting of Julie Anne Long, Sherry Thomas and Meredith Duran. A member of the Romance Writers Association of America, I am currently working on my next two novels, as the ghosts who live in my haunted, gilded age-era home try to sneak their way into my stories.
Author Links
Website
Once Upon A Wager
Facebook
Hardly the actions of a hero.
But shocking lies have distorted the past. Can Alec uncover its painful truths, and still keep his distance? Can he deny his forbidden desire, even as it flares hotter than ever?
Ask A Romance Expert:
Guest Expert:
Lady Sophia Middleton, Countess of Marchmain, appearing courtesy of “Once Upon A Wager,” by JulieLeMense
Lady Marchmain, I’d like to make myself more attractive to the opposite sex. Any tips?
Lady Marchmain, I’d like to make myself more attractive to the opposite sex. Any tips?
In all honesty, men have always swarmed about me like honeybees. I was blessed to be born beautiful, and not a day has passed since that has ever made me regret that good fortune.
However, I will let you in on a little secret. Confidence is the real key to beauty. Take my darling niece, Annabelle Layton, as an example. She’s quite the most beautiful thing. However, she has lost the confidence that such a gift bestows. She’s let an old infirmity color her self image, and allowed herself to overlooked.
Anytime that you ignore your gifts, whatever they may be, you risk the same fate.
Confidence is the most powerful weapon a woman can yield. If you want to be attractive to the opposite sex, realize that you have opinions worth sharing. Know that you have your own, unique blessings, and recognize them for what they are. Allow yourself to grow and mature whenever the opportunity to do so presents itself. Nothing is so beautiful as a woman who is comfortable with how she looks, how she speaks, how she interacts with others.
In other words, embrace yourself, and another type of embrace is destined to follow.
If you have any additional questions, come visit me atMarchmain House in “Once Upon A Wager.” I always have teacakes and a bottle of brandy at the ready.
Excerpt
Just as evening fell, Alec walked up the crushed stone drive to Astley Castle. Despite its rather grandiose name, it was more accurately a fortified manor house, although it did have a moat. Briefly the home of Lady Jane Grey, England’s unfortunate Nine Days Queen, it had also served as a garrison for Cromwell’s forces during the Civil War before passing into the Layton family. Tonight, however, the house gave no hint of its troubled history. Japanese lanterns were strung, not only in the trees leading up the drive, but also in those surrounding the house, and the effect was magical. In the early dusk, a gentle light bathed the grounds, softening the lines of the old home, coloring it with pale pinks and darker purples. Alec heard strains of music and conversation. In fact, it appeared to be a remarkably conventional party, which was something of a surprise. Surely, circus animals were lurking somewhere.
The oversized front door was open to the evening air, and dozens of people were assembled in the Great Hall, which was brightly lit with wall lanterns. Chandeliers decked with wax candles flickered high above as Gareth’s parents received their guests. Sir Frederick, who often panicked in crowds, was hiding his misgivings well, and Lady Layton was radiant beside him. Gareth stood next to her, dressed in a colorful approximation of evening attire, but he seemed distracted. His eyes were darting the crowd and looking for someone. A footman with the champagne tray, no doubt. Alec did not see Annabelle.
But then familiar, melodious laughter washed over him, and he turned. A willowy, honey-tressed blonde stood at the center of a crowd of adoring men. Her face was hidden from view, but her gown—the color of moonlight—caressed her curves like a lover. Alec braced himself, every nerve taut. As if sensing his presence, she looked over her shoulder and smiled.
God in Heaven, he should never have come here tonight.
Annabelle had been only four years old the first time he saw her. He’d joined his mother on a neighborly visit to Astley Castle, and the little girl had utterly charmed him, struggling to sit still while Lady Layton served tea to her guests. Delicate, soft, and pink, like a rosy-cheeked doll, she’d roused all his protective instincts before kicking him in the shins to gain his attention.
If only he could see the girl she’d once been in the woman standing before him. Even two years ago, there had been hints of her, hiding in the body of a goddess. But there was nothing childlike about Annabelle now. She was spectacularly lovely, with arched brows, high cheekbones, and cornflower blue eyes that took his breath away.
Excusing herself from her admirers, she walked toward him with a slow smile. Then again, walking was not the right word. Swaying was the better choice, and all he could do was stand there, heart slamming in his chest as she approached, the gossamer silk gown caressing her curves. Were it dampened—as was the fashion with London’s faster set—it would be almost transparent. Just like that morning when she had gone swimming in the fountain, casting a spell over him like a sorceress.
About the Author
© William Donlin of Studio D, Berwick PA
A Georgetown University graduate with a degree in English Literature, I have been a Regency romance addict since I read my first deliciously bad Barbara Cartland novel. These days, I prefer the complex characterizations and plotting of Julie Anne Long, Sherry Thomas and Meredith Duran. A member of the Romance Writers Association of America, I am currently working on my next two novels, as the ghosts who live in my haunted, gilded age-era home try to sneak their way into my stories.
Author Links
Website
Once Upon A Wager
Thank you for hosting today Jo.
ReplyDeleteShaz