Author: judeknight

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A Giveaway Opportunity and some lovely books, including my Grasp the Thorn

Warning: may result in swooning, hopeless daydreaming, and your next favorite read. Air Affair Giveaway!

Leslie Vollard, the author of the book Air Affair, has a giveaway you’ll love.

One lucky reader will receive a grand prize book basket and historical stationery kit, while a second will enjoy a cozy book lover’s basket—perfect for late-night romance indulgence. Plus the “to-do’s” for the Giveaway involve historical romances from other authors, including yours truly.

📚 https://litring.com/giveaway/air-affair-historical-romance-giveaway/

My book in the promotion is Grasp the Thorn, and I’ve made it free until April 3rd. Since Chaos Come Again is on sale as part of my March sales books, this means you can get the first two Lion’s Zoo books for the rest of March at only $1.49. So run, don’t walk, to your favourite bookseller.

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Spotlight on Temptress and the Lyon

A woman on the brink of ruin. A man risen from the grave. A marriage neither of them planned, but both may die for.

Twelve years ago, Alyssia Prudence Whitcombe lost the man she was promised to marry since birth and learned how swiftly hearts can be broken. Now, with scandal snapping at her heels and her family’s future at risk, she makes a desperate choice: She will find a stranger to wed at the most dangerous gaming hell in London. A marriage of necessity. A contract. Nothing more.

She never expects that stranger to be Giles Bishop, the boy she once loved, the heir thought dead, the man who vanished without a trace.

Theodore Giles Bishop has spent years in the shadows, waiting for the moment he can reclaim the life that was stolen from him. Hardened by exile and secrecy, he means to bide his time, until he spies Alyssia standing in the Lyon’s Den, wagering her future with breathtaking courage. He makes a reckless choice: He will win her hand or die trying.

But some choices open old wounds.

Can love reclaimed be stronger than love lost? Or will the shadows that once tore them apart claim them both again?

 

Meet Tanya Wilde

Award-Winning and International Bestselling author Tanya Wilde developed a passion for reading when she had nothing better to do than lurk in the library during her lunch breaks. Her love affair with pen and paper soon followed after she devoured all of their historical romance books!

When she’s not meddling in the lives of her characters or pondering names for her imaginary big, white greyhound, she’s off on adventures with her partner in crime.

Wilde lives in a town at the foot of the Outeniqua Mountains, South Africa.

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Get the rest of the series on sale–Golden Redepennings going cheap

To celebrate the release of book 6 in the Golden Redepennings series, the previous books are on sale until March 31st.

Farewell to Kindness–Free https://books2read.com/FarewelltoKindness

A Raging Madness–$2.49 USD https://books2read.com/ARagingMadness

The Realm of Silence–$2.49 USD https://books2read.com/TheRealmofSilence

Unkept Promises–$2.49 USD https://books2read.com/Unkept-Promises

The Flavour of Our Deeds $2.49 USD https://books2read.com/FoOD

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March sale on ebooks 8th to 31st

Jude’s March sale books are Chasing the Tale: Volume II, a lunch-time reads collection of 10 stories, Chaos Come Again, the first book in the series Lion’s Zoo, and The Duke’s Price, a novella about a governess who must chose between two wicked dukes to save her pupil.

Chasing the Tale: Volume II https://books2read.com/u/4X8VGL

Chaos Come Again https://books2read.com/CCAgain

The Duke’s Price https://books2read.com/u/4A0gGK

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Books half price in the Smashwords sale

I’ve put all books published under my Titchfield Press imprint into the Smashwords sale. That includes my series Lion’s Zoo, The Return of the Mountain King, and The Golden Redepennings. The sale runs from March 1st to March 7th. All novels and collections will be half price, and novellas that are normally priced at $1.49 will be free! Click on the link and scroll down to see the books.

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A Pawn in Someone Else’s Game in WIP Wednesday

Unpitied Sacrifice, which is currently on prerelease, includes a very polite kidnapper. Preorder links at: https://books2read.com/u/479JAA

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Valeria’s worst fear was not realised. Or not immediately, in any case. She was not taken to Delacroix, but to a small anonymous building in the Whitehall district of London, where she was shown to a bedchamber and left alone.

It was a small room, but pleasantly decorated and furnished, with striped wallpaper in a pleasant pale green, dark green linen curtains, an iron bedstead well provided with linen, blankets, and quilts, a bedside table, a washstand, a small table with a single upright chair, and even an easy chair, upholstered in a print that repeated the colours of the wallpaper and curtains, with pink accents. The room’s one window was too high to offer a view of anything but the upper boughs of a tree and a rectangle of sky

She had been provided with washing water, drinking water, a night rail, a change of linen, and even a book to read—poems by the seventeenth century English cleric John Donne. When the setting sun painted the sky outside her high window, a knock on the door and the rattle of the key in the lock presaged the arrival of her abductor and two other men. The abductor carried a tray, which he put on the table.

“Dinner, Mrs Redepenning. I shall return to collect the tray in one hour. Do you need a woman to assist you with preparing for bed?”

“I shall manage, thank you,” Valeria replied. Her dress laced at the sides and her stays at the front. She did not bother to ask any questions. He had ignored every attempt throughout their trip to London, either not speaking at all or replying on a completely different topic.

The abductor bowed, and began to withdraw. “Wait!” Actually, Valeria did have a question. “How might I address you?”

A quick twitch of his lips instantly suppressed never quite became a smile, but the man’s eyes were amused, only Heaven knew why. “John will do, Mrs Redepenning,” he said.

Valeria inclined her head. “Thank you for my dinner, Mr John,” she said.

It was a pleasant dinner, too. She removed the cover from one plate to disclose slices of tender chicken in a tasty gravy, a variety of root vegetables, peas, and beans. The other revealed a slice of apple pie, presumably to be eaten with the custard in one of the jugs on the tray.

The other jug contained cream, and there was a teapot and a bowl of sugar. Also, a small decanter and a wine glass.

Crockery, glassware, and silverware, too, all of which could be turned into weapons. Did they regard her as such a small threat? Perhaps not. The man John had not, after all, ventured into her room alone.

Perhaps it was that, as John had promised, they were treating her with respect. But what did they want? This was the question that quenched her appetite and kept her from sleeping, although the meal was delicious and bed comfortable. What on earth did they want?

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A funeral and two weddings in WIP Wednesday



I’ve just sent The Lyon, the Lady and a Fine Pair of Boots to the publishers. It’s a book that starts with a funeral and ends with two weddings, and here’s the funeral.

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A village in Oxfordshire, 1816

The old bag was really dead.

Katherine Fivepence had spent the last few days expecting Lady Miller to sit up, grab her favorite cane, and start laying about her while berating them all for actual and imagined deficiencies.

Even after the coffin lid went on. Even during the funeral service in the little church. It was just hard to believe that the menace who had overshadowed Kat’s life for so many years had finally gone the way of all humankind.

Now Kat stood in the graveyard, ignoring the drizzle and the small cluster of menservants and villagers, watching the first clods of earth going into the grave on top of the coffin. None of the other maids. Miss Miller had decreed that females did not attend funerals. She and her sisters were seated in the ladies’ parlor at home saying prayers, and the female servants had all been sent to the servants’ hall or their rooms to also pray for the soul of their dead mistress.

Kat wasn’t with the other maids because they scorned and envied Kat in equal measures. Envied, for Lady Ellen had taken her as her personal attendant. Scorned for several reasons, not least because she was an indentured orphan and because Lady Ellen was the unwanted daughter and sister of the house.

As for praying for Lady Miller’s soul, Kat figured her prayers would not make a blind scrap of difference to Lady Miller’s destination. In fact, if God was a just God, like the vicar always said, then Lady Miller was even now roasting away in the hottest pit of hell.

Anyway, Kat hadn’t wanted to miss the funeral and burial. To her, it was a celebration, and if English maids were permitted to dance on graves, she would have done so, as soon as the grave was filled, a mound of raw earth in the center of a neat row of cemetery plots, each with a carefully tended garden, rails or neat hedges to demarcate its borders, and a tombstone of praises for the dead or pious wishes for their eternity or both.

These were the former dignitaries of the village, whose descendants made it a point of pride to ensure their ancestors could compete with their neighbors in death, as they had in life. Elsewhere in the graveyard, other plots were also devotedly tended, but with less attention to impressing others, living and dead. And the entire graveyard was neat. The sexton made sure that even the graves of those whose descendants had long moved away to the village were regularly scythed, the tombstones weeded.

Kat had a favorite corner, where she lingered after church on Sunday, slipping away from under the housekeeper’s eye while the other maids chattered and flirted. A willow tree hung over a family grave, where six generations of Simpsons had been committed to their final rest—the last more than two centuries ago.

Kat, who had never had a family, enjoyed reading the tombstones and imaging their lives. Simpsons no longer lived in the village, and Kat sometimes indulged herself in speculations about where they might have gone.

But wait. The committal was over. The vicar was strolling off toward the vicarage, and the sexton was ordering the grave filled in. She had better hustle to return to the manor and join the other servants in the parlor. The solicitor, who was strolling alongside the vicar all dressed in black, was heading to the same destination, and when he arrived, he would be reading Lady Miller’s last will and testament.

Miss Miller had ordered the whole household to be present for that solemn event. Miss Clara Miller was cut from the same cloth as Lady Miller, though she had had limited scope as a dictator while that tyrant was alive. Even so, everyone in the household knew that crossing her was almost as stupid as angering her mother.

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Spotlight on The Night Dancers

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GFY9FDMJ

Certain that the Marquess of Teign is behind her cousin’s disappearance, investigator Melody Blackmore enters his mansion disguised as a man. Tasked with discovering how Teign’s sons are leaving their tower prison or having food and other items brought in, she soon realizes that the sons are also the marquess’s victims. As her interest in the eldest of the brothers grows, she joins them all in a campaign to bring Teign down.

Allan Sheppard, the Earl of Kemble, is the eldest of Teign’s ten sons. He is weighed down by his frequent failures to protect his brothers from Teign’s beatings and abuse, but determined to keep them as safe as he can until his youngest brother is no longer under Teign’s guardianship.

All they must to do is fool the most recent investigator sent to find out their secrets. But Mel Black is not like the others, and Allan finds that an alliance with her gives the brothers the chance to not only survive, but to thrive.

However, Teign will stop at nothing to punish his sons for escaping him. Only Allan’s and Melody’s growing commitment to one another keeps them steadfast as they uncover evidence of evil beyond imagining.

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WIP Wednesday A day in the life

In this excerpt from An Unpitied Sacrifice, we see Harry and Valeria settling into married life.

Waking up in Harry’s arms every morning was very nice. Not nice in the way it had been in that small village in the Spanish mountains, when they both woke with an urgent need to express their love in the most physical of ways.

Harry had either lost all desire for her, or he understood the mere thought of such intimacy shook Valeria’s frail hold on her emotions. And on her senses and her digestion. Bursting into tears, passing out, and throwing up would kill the mood, especially if she did all three at once.

It was a hurdle she would have to get over. They would have to get over, for they were married for life, and she refused to allow that fiend Antoine to ruin Harry’s life as well as her own. So far, though, she had not even been able to find the strength to raise the topic.

But they were together, she and Harry, and he had accepted her two extra children. She had everything she had hoped for during the journey to England. That she now hoped for more was testament to the courage Harry was giving her. Let them get the other women settled and then they could address her fears, and perhaps overcome them.

She smiled at the thought, and Harry, who at some point during her cogitations had opened his startlingly blue eyes, smiled back. “Good morning, my love,” he said. “A penny for your thoughts.”

“I was just thinking how nice it is to wake up in your arms, Harry,” she told him.

“Very nice,” he agreed, and saluted her cheek with a friendly kiss, such as a brother might give a sister. And as he rolled onto his back and stretched both of his arms above his head, there was a knock on the door.

“Isabella with our coffee,” Harry said. So far, the Spanish woman was working out very well as her maid.

Harry slipped out from under the covers, shrugged into his banyan and crossed to the door. “Good morning, Isabella,” he was saying as he opened it, and then, “Tom! Valeria, it is my man Tom with our coffee. Welcome back, Tom. You’ve heard then, about our changes?”

Valeria could hear the murmur of a reply, but not the actual words. Harry replied with instructions.

“Tell Mrs Rodriguez that Mrs Redepenning will need her in fifteen minutes. I’ve taken the next room for my dressing room, and will meet you there at the same time. You might like to familiarize yourself with the room while Mrs Redepenning and I drink our coffee. I have a meeting this morning, and shall be going out at ten o’clock.”

“Business, Harry?” Valeria asked, as he came back across their room with the tray holding the coffee pot, cups, and other coffee makings.

“A meeting with my father and a lawyer,” Harry said. “What are your plans this morning, dearest?”

Valeria groaned. “A final fitting for some of my gowns, including the one for your godmother’s ball.”

“Poor Valeria,” teased Harry, handing her a cup of coffee made just the way she liked it. “After my meeting, shall I come and pick you and my sisters up and take you out for tea and cakes? As a compensation for the torture you’ve suffered?”

“It is torture!” Valeria protested, laughing. She frowned, trying to think of an explanation that made sense to her, as well as Harry. “Fashion the way Susan knows it is almost a weapon. At the very least, it is a language that all of Society knows and that I must learn. The fabrics themselves, the trimmings, the colours, even the cut—all say something about my status and wealth, and therefore yours.”

“It sounds like nonsense,” said Harry.

Valeria huffed out a breath and shook her head. “It matters to too many people for me to treat it as nonsense, my dearest love. We shall raise our children with all the advantages of being part of the Redepenning family, but even the Redepennings cannot fly in the face of social opinion. If my clothing helps Society to accept me, then that shall ease the way of our children. I can do this, Harry.”

“I am confident you can,” Harry agreed. “If you think it important, my love, then I shall stop teasing. Just don’t let Susan bully you.”

Valeria chuckled. “I have not changed that much, Harry,” she told him.

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An Arranged Marriage on WIP Wednesday

 

In April, I have a story in the collection “Dukes in Spring“. Here’s an excerpt.

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Mima’s sister Marge had locked herself in the tower and was refusing to come out. Papa said she would give up when she was hungry, but Mima asked the servants, and had discovered that Marge had given orders. All the cisterns were stocked with fresh spring water, the wine store replenished, and the larder fully stocked.

The artful woman had told the servants she was merely preparing against the possibility that the evil Townswells might break the marriage agreement and attack the Ruthermonds.

Of course, they believed it, for no one thought this proposed marriage was anything except a trick by the wicked inhabitants of Keldwood Cross. So, they had willingly provided the stores their lady could easily live on for months, if she did not mind an almost endless supply of preserved food.

No one had ever said that Lady Margherita Ruthermond was stupid. Spoiled, yes. Willful, certainly. And determined not to, as she put it, sacrifice her happiness on the altar of the family feud. As always, Mama sided with Marge, and when Papa growled that she and her daughter were both selfish termagants, she took to her bed.

After ranting for three days, Papa sent for Mima. “You shall have to go in Margherita’s place, Mima,” he decreed. “Someone has to marry the Townswell cub, or we have broken the agreement.” He shuddered.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Mima asked. “After all, we have been ignoring the Townswells for three hundred years, except for a few broken bones here and there. We can go back to doing so again, can we not?”

Papa shook his head. “It’s more than a few broken bones, though, Mima, isn’t it? Wrecking the Lion and Harp, beating the Ruthermond steward until the doctor feared for his life, blowing up the bridge across Coombe Water.”

He held up both hands, palms out. “You are going to say that was all the Townswells, but for everything they did, our people did something as bad or worse. And if I find the fool who led the attack on a Royal Mail coach because they mistook it for a Ruthermond carriage, I shall have their guts.” He thumped a fist into a hand to emphasize his point.

Mima, who knew perfectly well that the idiots in question were her two youngest brothers, kept her mouth shut.

“The riot in Coombe was the last straw,” said Papa, with a sigh, “and you know as well as I do, it was as much our people’s fault as it was theirs.”

Two packs of young hotheads, both the worse for drink. But property had been damaged and a Coombe innkeeper who had tried to stop the violence had been knocked unconscious.

Even worse, the daughter of another neighbor, the Duke of Norcross, had been caught up in the riot. As far as Mima knew, the lady had not been physically hurt, but she had been shoved, and she had been scared. Since her father had powerful allies in both Houses of Parliament, and the ear of the Prince Regent besides, neither Papa nor Harwood had been able to brush the riot into oblivion.

“I am sorry, Mima,” Papa said. “But now that the Prince Regent is involved, and some of my fellow lords are talking about sending in an outside magistrate… I had no choice but to sign the agreement that his highness demanded. If I do not produce a bride for Harwood’s son, I will be foresworn. Even worse, the agreement says that, if one party defaults, he must pay a fine of ten thousand pounds and surrender the disputed lands in Coombe. Do you want to hand Harwood a win of that magnitude?”

So, Papa had bowed to pressure from the Crown and his peers and had put his pride on the line, Marge had thrown a tantrum, and Mima was to be the human sacrifice to save them all. That is, if Marge did not appear to do her duty.