When doors creak and ghostly whispers can be heard throughout the halls, this stunning collection of haunted Historical Romance novellas is sure to leave you breathless with ethereal, romantic tales…
Welcome to UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY anthology!
Many of your favorite Historical Romance authors have come together for a collection of never-before published stories inspired by true, legendary hauntings of the British Isles. These tales will give you a chill, a thrill, and have you reading them over and over. From the moors of Devon to the ballrooms of Regency London, and far north into the Scottish Highlands, these stories will bring you wistful dreams of legendary and haunting romance. You’ve never before experienced a collection like this by some of the very best authors in Historical Romance.
Authors in this anthology include:
Kathryn Le Veque
Caroline Lee
Chasity Bowlin
Hildie McQueen
Maggie Andersen
Mary Lancaster
Meara Platt
Violetta Rand
Alexa Aston
Anna Markland
Aubrey Wynne
Elizabeth Ellen Carter
Elizabeth Johns
Elizabeth Keysian
Emily E K Murdoch
Emily Royal
Heather McCollum
Anna St. Claire
Lynne Connolly
Maeve Greyson
Whitney Blake
Light your candle, lock your doors, and settle down to this smashing collection of darkly-tinged romantic stories with unforgettable heroes and magnificent ladies. Romance has never been so daring… or so haunting!
And if you hear a knock on your door… don’t answer it unless you are prepared to welcome a wandering wraith in a tattered wedding gown…
Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/upon-a-midnight-dreary-a-halloween-anthology/id1555350770
https://books.apple.com/us/book/upon-a-midnight-dreary-a-halloween-anthology/id1555350770
Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/upon-a-midnight-dreary-a-halloween-anthology
Excerpt from Anna St. Claire’s contribution
Once Upon a Haunted Heart
Surrey, England
19 October 1813
The woman’s scream pierced the air as the pain of her child’s entrance into the world wracked her body.
“Please . . . I pray . . . something for the pain . . .”
“Is there something we can do to help?” begged her aunt.
The midwife tutted, shaking her head. “I am sorry, my dear.” The older woman picked up the small vial found next to the bed and held it to the light. “What ’ave ye done, my child? Who told ye to drink this? They do not use it when a pregnancy has gone to term.”
“The earl’s physician said it would ensure an easier delivery,” Melinda huffed in pain.
“The earl’s physician gave you this?” Her aunt’s eyes rounded in horror.
“No, he wrote it on paper and arranged it with the chemist . . .” her words fell off as realization of what she had done hit her and she feared for her child.
Melinda lay writhing in pain while the midwife took charge. She could not believe her stupidity. Her betrothed had promised to return after seeing his father. However, he had never returned. Nothing made sense. Daniel had seemed excited at the prospect of having a child. He had promised to wed her. He said he loved her.
Once the pregnancy had begun to show, her presence had caused speculation and her father risked losing customers. He had moved her to his sister-in-law’s home several towns away from her own, certain no one would recognize her or connect her to their family business.
The last months of the pregnancy had been difficult. Desperation had driven her to the earl’s door. She had explained her circumstances to her betrothed’s father and pleaded for a place to stay until he returned for her; his father had ridiculed her.
“He is not your betrothed,” the earl mocked her. “And there will be no wedding. Rather than wed you, he left on a trip.”
“Where did he go? Please tell me,” she begged.
The earl would not say. She had heard a rumor he had gone to fight with Wellington but could gain no confirmation.
“He made no mention of being betrothed,” scoffed the earl, staring down at her softly rounded belly.
“Please, my lord. ’Tis your son’s baby. I am carrying Daniel’s baby . . .” The door slammed shut. “. . . and I have no place to stay,” she finished, tears streaming down her face.
Several months later, she had received a visit from a man claiming to be the earl’s physician. He claimed the earl had sent him, saying the earl had reconsidered helping her and sent her funds for the comfort of her and her baby, but requested she never seeks him out again. It had been a substantial amount of money—two hundred pounds. The physician had arranged for the vial, assuring her he had secured it to gain her comfort in her pregnancy, and instructed her to take it when the pain started.
She had never shown it to anyone. When she started cramping, she tried the medicine. Almost immediately, the cramping had worsened, and the pain had grown to such an intensity, it was as if the baby was ripping itself from her womb. Her aunt had summoned the midwife and sent word to her brother-in-law.
Too late, she realized the intent of the doctor’s visit—if he had even been a physician. Melinda had allowed the earl’s offer of money to cloud her judgment, and as a result, both lives—hers and her baby’s—were threatened.
A pain like no other rent her body as the child’s head finally showed itself and the lusty wails of her daughter drowned out Melinda’s cry. Why did you leave us, Daniel? There was a strange comfort about her as her daughter emerged, and she would have sworn she could see Daniel’s face gazing down at the baby. “Daniel . . . you are here,” she cried, puzzled that his brown eyes spoke of heartbreak.
Weak but needing to touch the child, Melinda held out her arms, comforted when her aunt placed her daughter to her chest to suckle. Her body felt depleted and worn, quickly losing its strength. She could barely take a breath without effort. I am dying. But why is Daniel here? Her body shook, and the bleeding intensified.
“The bleeding is getting worse. Someone, please, help my niece,” her aunt cried, putting cold cloths on her niece’s head and frantically pushing her hair from her face.
“There is no hope for ’er,” the midwife whispered in a choked voice. “I fear the girl ’as taken too much of the vial to stop it.”
“Danielle . . . her name . . . is Danielle,” Melinda rasped. Please, Aunt, please see she is cared for properly.”
“I will do my best, sweet niece,” her aunt sobbed, brokenly.
“I love you, Danielle. I shall always be near,” Melinda breathed, before kissing her daughter’s forehead and handing the child to her aunt. Conflicting emotions washed over her—joy, pain, and anger. Daniel’s specter beckoned her against the milieu of her daughter’s wails.
She struggled to fill her lungs once more. “May the earl know no peace, and there be no further union in his line until they acknowledge my daughter,” Melinda intoned as her life faded.
Meet Anna St Claire
Anna St. Claire is a big believer that nothing is impossible if you believe in yourself. She sprinkles her stories with laughter, romance, mystery and lots of possibilities, adhering to the belief that goodness and love will win the day.
Anna is both an avid reader author of American and British historical romance. She and her husband live in Charlotte, North Carolina with their two dogs and often, their two beautiful granddaughters, who live nearby. Daughter, sister, wife, mother, and Mimi—all life roles that Anna St. Claire relishes and feels blessed to still enjoy. And she loves her pets – dogs and cats alike, and often inserts them into her books as secondary characters.
Anna relocated from New York to the Carolinas as a child. Her mother, a retired English and History teacher, always encouraged Anna’s interest in writing, after discovering short stories she would write in her spare time.
As a child, she loved mysteries and checked out every Encyclopedia Brown story that came into the school library. Before too long, her fascination with history and reading led her to her first historical romance—Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind, now a treasured, but weathered book from being read multiple times. The day she discovered Kathleen Woodiwiss,’ books, Shanna and Ashes In The Wind, Anna became hooked. She read every historical romance that came her way and dreams of writing her own historical romances took seed.
Today, her focus is primarily the Regency and Civil War eras, although Anna enjoys almost any period in American and British history. She would love to connect with any of her readers on her website – www.annastclaire.com, through email—annastclaireauthor@gmail.com, Instagram – annastclaire_author, BookBub – www.bookbub.com/profile/anna-st-claire,Twitter – @1AnnaStClaire, Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/authorannastclaire/ or on Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Anna-St-Claire/e/B078WMRHHF?ref=.