Bluestocking Belles

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Brothers on WIP Wednesday

Or sisters. Sisters would be fine. Share an excerpt that features a brother or sister or similar age cousin to your hero or heroine. I’m just finishing my beta draft for the next Bluestocking Belles box set, and I have a rather lovely brother. Awkward, much? Yes, quite a bit. But he means well. In the excerpt below, he decides a family connection will do a better job of presenting his sister than he can.

Chloe changed the subject. “I am visiting Lady Seahaven and the Bigglesworth sisters tomorrow morning. Aunt Swithin, will you come with me? I can go with my maid, if you prefer.”

Martin surprised her. “I will escort you, Chloe. I wish to pay my respects to Lady Seahaven, and I should visit our sisters.”

“They will be thrilled, Martin.” Mama had given her second husband, the Earl of Seahaven, two daughters, Emma and Merry. They had remained with the Earl of Seahaven when Mama died, and Uncle Swithin insisted on Chloe being returned to her brother’s household.

Chloe had kept in touch in the intervening years, but Martin had only met his half-sisters after Uncle Swithin’s death.

“Lady Dorothy was telling me about their ball, Chloe, and I had an idea. What do you think of us asking Lady Seahaven to include you as one of her protégées?”

“She has been very kind about including me in when she and her step-daughters make visits,” Chloe observed. Lady Seahaven and the Bigglesworth sisters had started with some personal connections and a few recommendations from relatives, and had brokered them into introductions to most of York Society.

“Precisely,” Martin agreed. “They know many more people than we do, and their ball will be much better attended than any entertainment I could put on for you. But I would not wish you to be neglected in such a big crowd of sisters.”

Aunt Swithin cackled. “Only three sisters that count, Martin. Lady Seahaven is giving the ball for the Seahaven Diamonds, and quite right, too. Next to them, no one will notice that our Chloe, nor any other female, either.”

“Aunt Swithin,” Martin protested, “Chloe would make a fine match for any gentleman of discernment.”

“Josepha and the twins can only marry one man apiece,” Chloe pointed out, though privately she agreed with Aunt Swithin’s assessment. Short and dumpy as she was, she suffered by comparison to the four Bigglesworth sisters who were her age and older, but the three younger girls would have been reigning beauties even in a London Season.

They had been dubbed the Seahaven Diamonds after their first public appearance in York, and the sooner they selected from among their swarming suitors, the better all the other marriageable ladies in York would like it.

“Besides, Aunt Swithin, it isn’t just about the ball. If Lady Seahaven agrees to sponsor me, hostesses who are inviting the Seahavens will include me in their invitations. I will have many more opportunities to meet eligible gentlemen.” And much good it might do me, for I shall still be unfashionably plump, two years past twenty, and far too opinionated for most gentlemen.

Martin nodded. “That is what I thought. I shall ask Lady Seahaven, then, shall I? I will, of course, offer her the money I planned to spend on a party of some kind. Do you think that would be the right thing to do?”

Chloe nodded. “Absolutely.”

After dinner, he showed Chloe some books and trinkets he had brought for the little girls, including some for Lady Seahaven’s little Jane, who was only three. “If I am giving gifts to our sisters, I can’t leave the baby out,” he said.

Sometimes, Chloe was quite hopeful that, out from under Uncle Swithin’s shadow, Martin was becoming almost human.

When they saw her the next day, Lady Seahaven was delighted to take Chloe under her wing, “Though it seems silly for me to be your sponsor, Miss Tavistock, when you and I are the same age. At the very least, you must call me Patience, as your step-sisters do. When they are not calling me ‘Mama’ to tease me.”

She objected when Martin offered to help finance the ball, “and any other expenses you incurr by allowing Chloe to join you.”

“But, Lord Tavistock, your sister is part of the family. I cannot think it proper to charge you a fee.”

“The fact is, Lady Seahaven, that I am at a standstill,” Martin explained. “Patience and I were tutored at home, as you know, and our guardian was not a warm man. Nor were those social connections he did maintain at the right social level for a viscount’s sister. Aunt Swithin is as much out of here depth as I am, and besides, grows more peculiar by the day.” As Patience could see for herself, since Aunt Swithin had barely said good morning to her hostess before announcing that she would go and find Bess, who did not have cotton wool between her ears.

Martin leaned forward in his seat, gifting Patience with a winning smile. “If you will treat Chloe as one of your own flock, I am persuaded she will fare much better than my aunt and I could have managed on our own. I would not think of putting a monetary value on the advantage to Chloe of your sponsorship, compared to the poor launch I would have made of it. You are doing me an enormous favour, and all I can say is thank you. But I have budgeted for a season for Chloe, and it is only fair that the money I was going to spend doing a poor job should be given to you to help you do a far better one.”

Chloe was impressed by the speech, and so was Doro, who commented, “That is reasonable, Patience. Lord Tavistock’s money added to ours will allow us to make more of an impression than either of us could manage on our own.”

That settled, Martin was carried off to the schoolroom by an ecstatic pair of schoolgirls. At twelve and ten, and used to a house full of women, Emma and Merry were awed and fascinated by their adult brother.

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Rescues, Fights, and Other Action Scenes

Action scenes make reading interesting, as long as they make sense. I tend to act things out to see if they would work, which must be hilarious to any invisible bystanders. This week’s excerpt is from the novella I have to have done within the next week. My hero notices a woman being accosted and realises that it is someone he knows. If you have an action scene to share, please pop it in the comments.

He broke into a run. He would intervene to help any woman, but he’d seen that redingote before. Some primitive part of him had no doubt of the identification. Mine! it growled, and when one of the insolent tormenters dared to put a hand on Miss Tavistock’s arm, grinning at his companions, Dom had to fight back a red fog of rage.

Fighting eight men might feed the possessive beast, and he was confident they’d all walk away bleeding. But he couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t overwhelm him in the end, and then what would happen to Miss Tavistock?

He nudged one of the men out of his way and stepped into the circle, already talking, waving the pin he’d just pulled from his cravat. “I beg your pardon, my lady. I did not think it would take me so long. I found it, though.” He waved the pin with one hand and knocked the offensive hand from Miss Tavistock’s arm with the other, making it look purely incidental to taking her hand inside his elbow.

“When I suggested you stroll ahead, my dear lady, I did not intend you to take the shortcut to your brother’s home. Though I suppose we must hurry. Lord Tavistock will be sending out the servants to find you, and he may never let me escort you again if he finds I allowed you to step ahead of me.”

Several of the men stepped backward when he called Miss Tavistock ‘lady’, which is why he had done it. They fell further back when he mentioned Lord Tavistock. Dom could deal with the rest. Grooms, by the look of them. He raised a single brow as he pretended to notice them for the first time?

“Do you know these persons, my lady?” he asked, allowing his voice to drip doubt as thick as treacle.

“No, Lord Finchley, I do not,” Chloe replied. “I was just declaring my disinterest in any acquaintance.” Clever girl. Dropping his first name to give him a spurious title had several more of the grooms slinking back into their mews.

Dom allowed the other eyebrow to drift upwards as he fixed the ringleader with a glare. “You made a mistake,” he told the man. “Don’t compound it.”

But there’s alway at least one idiot. The man took a swing at him, just as one of the other grooms exclaimed, “Here, that’s Cap’n Cuckoo. Leave ’im be, Ted. That’s Do-or-Die Cuckoo, that is!”

The warning came too late for the idiot, whose blow had missed its target when Dom swayed to one side. The fist came in handy for tugging said idiot away from a collision with Miss Tolliver, which would have been a piece of impertinence too far.

Idiot stumbled a few feet away, propelled by the force of his missed swing, and then roared as he caught himself and turned back towards his tormentor. Oh dear. A bull-brain. The man who had recognised Dom was shouting further warnings at Idiot, who ignored him.

“Would you be kind enough to step to the side of the lane?” Dom murmured to Miss Tavistock, who further showed her intelligence by immediate compliance. She was out of the way just in time. Bull Idiot charged, both fist swinging. Again, Dom shifted out of the way, but this time, he stuck out a booted foot, so Bull Idiot hurtled into the dust of the alley.

He rose again, still roaring. In Dom’s peripheral vision, a few of the remaining bystanders clenched their fists and hunched forward. Those on one side halted at a few words from Miss Tavistock. On the other by the groom who’d called Dom by his old army nickname interposed himself between the would-be assailants and the battle.

Dom was, for a few moments, too busy to pay any more attention to those who were watching, as he allowed Bull Idiot a glancing blow so Dom could get close enough to finish the fight. A kick to the family jewels, a fist to the chin as Bull Idiot bent in half, the side of the hand to the back of the neck as he went down.

Dom stepped over the groaning man and offered his arm to Miss Tavistock. “Shall we continue our walk, my lady?”

 

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Relatives on WIP Wednesday

I do like writing about relationships within families. One can tell a lot about a character by looking at how they cope with the family they came from. This week’s WIP Wednesday is about relatives, and my excerpt is from the novella I’m writing for the next Bluestocking Belles’ box set.

Martin kept his scold till Doro had exclaimed her relief and left in their carriage, which Martin insisted on having prepared for her. Then Chloe had to listen to a long lecture on irresponsible behaviour, putting herself in danger, disobeying the head of her family whose responsibility it was to protect her, and (for good measure) keeping inappropriate pets.

She found it easy to promise to attend no more reform meetings. The one speaker she had heard had been disappointing, and while the riot had been an adventure, she did not need Martin to point out that she was lucky Lord Robin had been concerned enough to look for her. Indeed, his general and vague description of the harms that may have befallen her were nothing to the gruesome horrors she had imagined on her own.

He was still seething when they met for dinner, when Aunt Swithin distracted Martin’s attention by lamenting that she had missed the meeting. “I was so looking forward to it, dear Martin,” she told him, blissfully oblivious to his shocked horror, “but I suffered an upset to my digestion, so I told the girls to go ahead without me. Did you have an interesting time, Chloe?”

Chloe managed not to laugh, though after one glance at Martin’s face she had to keep her eyes on her plate. “I only heard the one speaker, Aunt Swithin. Mr Thomas, whose articles you liked so much when I read them to you. I’m afraid he writes much better than he speaks. After that the meeting broke up and Doro and I came home.”

Another swift glance at Martin almost overcame her gravity.

“Aunt Swithin? Are you telling me you approve of these revolutionaries? I cannot believe it. What would Uncle say?”

“Not revolutionaries, dear,” Aunt Swithin insisted. “I would never support revolution. Those poor dear children in France! But reform, yes. The government is trying to bully the people instead of listening, and it is not nice, dear. Nobody likes a bully.”

Martin opened his mouth and then closed it again. Chloe waited for him to scold Aunt Swithin as he had her, but instead, he changed the subject. “Chloe is expecting a gentleman caller tomorrow, Aunt Swithin. Lord Robert Finchley escorted Chloe home from the meeting, and asked to call again.”

“Finchley,” Aunt Swithin said, and then repeated it. “Finchley. Ah, yes. The Marquess of Pevenwood’s third son.” Aunt Swithin had taken her responsibilities as the female educator of a young viscount to include a devotion to memorising Debretts. She was also, even under the harsh rule of her husband, addicted to the gossip news sheets, entering into a conspiracy with Cook to read them in the kitchen when Uncle Swithin was out spreading gloom and virtue around the neighbourhood. She showed the fruits of that research in her next remark. “The one they call Lord Cuckoo, because everyone knows the Duke of Haverford laid him Pevenwood’s nest. A soldier, is he not? Does he wear a uniform? A man looks so delightful in a uniform. Does Lord Cuckoo have money, though, Chloe? One cannot imagine that Pevenwood left him any, under the circumstances.”

Poor Lord Robin. Chloe could do nothing about his tragic origins, but she could speak up for his to some degree. “Lord Robin—he prefers to be called Lord Robin, not Lord Robert,” and definitely not Lord Cuckoo, which sounded like a cruel schoolboy joke. “Lord Robin has left the army. I do not know what he plans for his future, nor do I know how much money he has. It is surely none of my business, Aunt Swithin.”

“Only if you wish to marry him, my dove. Money does not buy happiness, it is true. But one is able to be miserable in some degree of comfort. I always wished that Swithin had more money.”

“Aunt Swithin,” Martin protested. “Uncle Swithin was a very—” his pause for thought was telling. “Upright man,” he concluded.

“He never wore a uniform though,” Aunt Swithin complained. “I do love a man in a uniform.”

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Pets on WIP Wednesday

Or perhaps animal companions is a better word, since if you want to share an excerpt in the comments, any animal is welcome. Mine is from the new story I’m writing for the next Bluestocking Belles collection.

The monkey did not want to stay in the basket. Chloe had to hold down the lid while pretending that nothing untoward was happening, and keeping an expression of polite interest on her face to convince those around her that she was listening to the speaker.

She didn’t dare look at Doro. Her friend had her eyes focused forward with a determination belied by her dancing eyes and the occasional tremble of her lips. If they met one another’s eyes, they would collapse into giggles as if they were twelve or thirteen again, and sharing a schoolroom.

Chloe needed to not think about Rosario the monkey or Doro’s amusement. Which meant, of course, that was all she could think about. The lecture might have helped, but the man currently currently droning on about the iniquities of the Habeas Corpus Act was too boring to actually make any sense.

The lid kicked under her hand. She bent over to rap it with her knuckles, just as the audience started clapping. The sudden roar of sound, of course, made Pepper even more desperate to get out of the basket.

Doro leaned closer and hissed out of the side of her mouth, “I did suggest the reform meeting might not be the best place for a monkey.”

“I couldn’t leave him behind,” Chloe protested. “Martin threatened to wring his neck when he caught him.”

Doro’s amusement bubbled out in a gurgle. “Rosario did steal Lord Tavistock’s cravat pin,” she pointed out.

It was true, but not the whole truth. In the two weeks since Chloe rescued Rosario from a mob of villagers, she had stolen several things a day, bringing them all to Chloe with every expectation of approval.

The villagers had told Martin, Chloe’s brother, the Viscount Tavistock, that the original owner was in prison awaiting trial for theft.

A cravat pin, two pair of cuff links, a cross belonging to cook, a pair of Chloe’s earrings, one jewelled buckle from a shoe, and a handful of other small objects witnessed to the thief’s small hairy accomplice.

“He will calm down by the time I am home,” Chloe assured Doro, hoping it was true.

The next speaker had risen, and someone behind demanded that the ladies be silent. Chloe looked around and winced an apology at the large man glaring from the next row of seats.

Two rows behind him, a fair-haired gentleman caught her gaze and winked one twinkling hazel eye.

The speaker, a little man with a bristling beard and burning eyes, began his oration. Boredom was not going to be an issue. A voice that was surely too large for the man’s body boomed through the room, calling for them to protest the iniquities under which the workers suffered. “I love the King as much as anyone,” he claimed, at full shout, “but his son plays at building pleasure palaces while his government oppresses his people and drives us into the workhouse.”

At the man’s rant, Rosario threw herself against the lid with renewed  determination, so that the basket rocked despite Chloe’s attempt to keep it still.

Behind them, someone booed. The speaker shouted him down, but a jeer came from another corner. Then the first missile flew, straight past Chloe’s head.

Chloe ducked and lost hold of the lid of the basket. Rosario shot out, into the crowd, yabbering her distress.

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Spotlight on Ravishing Camille

Pierce Hanniford returns to England after tripling his fortune in China. He’s come for business. Not pleasure. And definitely not for love.

Camille Bereston decided years ago that Pierce was not for her. He’s her step-brother, famous, restless, a savvy Shanghai taipan and a menace…to her heart.

She has ambitions to marry. Funny that none of her candidates seems good enough.

Yet Camille excites him as no woman ever has and he must have her, no matter the cost.

But should she take an older, experienced rogue as her lover…and should she claim him forever as her only love?

If you love swoon-worthy historical romance, starring endearing heroes, sassy heroines and a family of irresistible charmers, this book is for you!  Buy RAVISHING CAMILLE to begin your journey!

Amazon  – Amazon Affiliate  – KOBO – B&N  – iTunes: 

 

RAVISHING CAMILLE is the fifth book in THOSE NOTORIOUS AMERICANS series but can also be read as a standalone novel.

Book 1: Wild Lily (Lily and Julian)

Book 2: Daring Widow (Marianne and Remy)

Book 3: Sweet Siren (Liv and Killian)

Book 4: Scandalous Heiress (Ada and Victor)

Book 5: Ravishing Camille (Camille and Pierce)

Book 6: If You Were the Only Girl in the World (Katrina and Nate)

Book 7: Let Me Call You Sweetheart (Giselle and Dylan)

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Reporting Society gossip and scandal in the Regency era

When we first set up the Bluestocking Belles website, we had the idea to turn our blog into a gossip sheet, where we and other authors could spread gossip about characters from historical romances. The Teatime Tattler has now been going for six years, and this year it (or rather an unknown correspondent) plays a starring roll in our box set, Storm & Shelter.

In truth, as far as researchers can tell, newspapers totally devoted to scandal and gossip were a feature of 18th Century publishing, and reappeared in the 1820s. But in the Regency era, the antics of the upper classes were far more likely to be outed in cartoons posted in the windows of print shops, or in pamphlets devoted to a single story. Society news, and even scandal, does appear in the newspapers we have from those times, but in a column in amongst the war news, shipping news, reports on politics, weather reports, advertisements for everything under the sun, and all the rest.

That said, hundreds of papers came and went during the late Georgian period, from the end of the 18th Century to the ascension of Queen Victoria, so who knows?

Interested to know more?

Contest: Identify the Teatime Tattler Reporter

Guess the identity of the reporter snooping on the people trapped in the Queen’s Barque and the good people of Fenwick on Sea. You’ll find clues in the eight charming novellas in the collection Storm & Shelter.

All correct answers will be entered for the prizes listed below. The winners will be selected at random. Open internationally.

  • Grand prize: $100 gift card
  • Second: a made-to-order story by Jude Knight and Caroline Warfield
  • Third: winner’s choice of an electronic copy of any of the earlier Bluestocking Belles’ collections.

The contest closes on 23rd April at midnight New York time, and prizes will be drawn on 24th April.

Go to the Belles’ website for more information.

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Lessons from the Albatross

I used to live on the same peninsula as this breeding colony of royal albatrosses, (I lived nearly 20 kilometres away at the city end). What amazing birds they are. Pairs return to the place of their choice every two years to lay a single egg and take turns in keeping the egg warm and in feeding the fledgling. It’s a long process. Up to two and a half months from laying the egg to hatching, a further eight to nine months before the juvenile bird takes flight. The young birds will be gone for six years, flying up to 1800 kilometres in 24 hours, never touching land in all that time.

When they do come back to a breeding colony, it’ll be several years before they are ready to breed. They spend a couple of years socialising in groups, in a dance like form of communication. Over time, they’ll show a preference for one partner, and the dance will  become unique to each couple. They don’t stay together when at sea, but every two years, they go home, reconnect, mate, hatch out an egg, and raise a chick. For life. Only if one of the pair dies will they choose another mate.

Albatrosses have traditionally been regarded as harbingers of storm, but also good luck, a guide out of the storm to shelter. Another reason why they’re a good symbol for the Bluestocking Belles’ latest project, Storm & Shelter, which took flight yesterday. Like the albatross, it was around two and a half months in the egg, from signing the group contract to delivery of story for first beta in mid August (unlike the albatross, it has eight parents, including Grace Burrowes, Alina K. Field and Mary Lancaster, who joined us for the project).

Like the albatross — it took a lot of hard work on the part of its parents, and substantial practice, before it took flight eight to nine months after hatching. Yesterday, in fact. It is currently soaring, far from land, to the rarified levels of the book market.

It’s doing well. It has dozens of reviews, has scored well on Amazon for weeks, even edging up to #1 a few days ago, won a Crowned Heart for Excellence from InDTale Magazine, and is on a couple of Listopia lists at Goodreads. It looks like we might just miss lists like the top ten on USA Today or Publisher Weekly (unless we pick up quite a few hundred sales in the next few days, particularly on Apple and Barnes & Noble). But our little fledgling has spread its wings and is on its way. It’s out of our hands, now. It’s over to you, its readers.

Fly, little albatross.

When a storm blows off the North Sea and slams into the village of Fenwick on Sea, the villagers prepare for the inevitable: shipwreck, flood, land slips, and stranded travelers. The Queen’s Barque Inn quickly fills with the injured, the devious, and the lonely—lords, ladies, and simple folk; spies, pirates, and smugglers all trapped together. Intrigue crackles through the village, and passion lights up the hotel.

One storm, eight authors, eight heartwarming novellas.

Buy Links:

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3kgRmLG

Apple Books: https://apple.co/3lZYHja

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/storm-shelter-bluestocking-belles/1137958115?

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3o0z977

Google books: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Grace_Burrowes_Storm_and_Shelter?id=TNMhEAAAQBAJ

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/u/b5k2pO

 

International:

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2T3PbPh

BR: https://amzn.to/3dEnWo0

CA: https://amzn.to/2T82a2u

DE: https://amzn.to/31jPhHe

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IN: https://amzn.to/3o6c42Q

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Some People Have Dirty Minds!

The Vicar’s Illicit Liaison, The Teatime Tattler April 1815

Dear Reader, The village of Fenwick has been shaken to its core by the discovery that its revered curate, Mr. S., has feet—nay, entire limbs—of clay. First, he allowed his nephew, a bold impertinent boy, to insult our own beloved Mrs. F. Second, as noted in a previous report, he spent much time alone with a female visitor to the village. But now he has taken up with another female, a visitor’s maid. Said maid has been staying all day at the presbytery, purportedly nursing Mr. S.’s wards through the influenza. Today, she sunk so far in depravity as to stay overnight on the pretext that Mr. S. is now ill. This is unlikely to end well.

“Will ye ‘ave anuvver glass, Piety, my dove?” her husband asked. Piety Withers held out her glass.

“Don’t mind if I do, Withers,” she agreed, ignoring the frowning looks Mrs Brewster was casting at poor Withers. The innkeeper’s wife had said, when handing over the wages that Piety had earned, “Now don’t let your husband get his hands on this money, Mrs Withers.”

Mrs Brewster could keep her nose out of Piety’s business. It made Withers happy to have cash in his pocket. Dear man. So what if he could never hold down a job or retain possession of as much as a farthing? He was fond of Piety in his way, and never raised a hand to her, unlike some husbands she could name.

Why, look how he had insisted on buying her a drink as soon as she handed over the carefully counted coins that she’d deemed sufficient to content him? He’d praised her for her industry, assured her that all of his friends were jealous of him for having such a lovely wife, and invited her to celebrate their good fortune at the Queen’s Barque Inn. Little did he know that she’d kept at least two-thirds of the windfall and hidden it where he’d never find it. Not that she felt guilty. He’d soon drink or gamble the rest away.

“I’ve a bit of a worry, darlin’ Piety,” Withers declared, wrenching her from the sad direction of her thoughts. She donned an expression of interest and waited to be told what concerned him.

“This business with the vicar and the skirt from London,” he said. “Young Alice was readin’ a bit from the London papers this afternoon, she was. Says that there maid Conroy is havin’ it off with vicar.” Withers shook his head. “Should ye be workin’ there, darlin’?”

Piety’s eyes flashed. “That is just not true, Withers. Miss Conroy has been looking after the vicar while he was sick, and anyone who says different is making things up and has a nasty mind.”

“But it was printed in the paper, my dove.” Withers didn’t read, and was inclined to invest anything in print with the same reverence owed to Holy Scripture.

Piety snorted. “The Teatime Tattler, I suppose. Someone here in this village has been sending gossip and scandal to that terrible paper, and if I find out who it is, I shall pull their ears for them, and so I will. Making such trouble for that dear lady. Mr Somerville, too, after he worked himself into his own fever running around in the rain seeing to the sick. They should be ashamed!” She shook her fist.

Withers nodded. “If you say so, my dove. But ye’ll not be stayin’ there after dark.” He nodded again, firmly, satisfied that the problem was solved by his decree. “Shall I walk ye home before I go out fishin’ wiv Billy and Si, Piety, darlin’?”

Piety downed the last of her cider and stood up. Fishing, my left foot. If the boat left the dock, she’d be surprised, and certainly she did not expect the cronies to bring home anything more than their empty flasks and a headache each. Still, she gave Withers a peck on the cheek. He was, after all, not the world’s worst husband.

Who is the snooping reporter?

As told in Storm & Shelter in eight original novellas, refugees—the injured, the devious, and the lonely, lords, ladies, and simple folk; spies, pirates, and smugglers—all sheltered at the Queen’s Barque Inn. Now concern is buzzing in Fenwick on Sea and across these United Kingdoms, as scurrilous gossip about the goings on during the recent storm spread through the reports in that scandal rag, The Teatime Tattler. Who is the snoop?

You can help

Correctly identify the reporter and be entered to win a $100 gift card and other great prizes. There are details and instructions for entering here: https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/storm-shelter/wanted-the-snooping-teatime-tattler-reporter/

Clues

There are clues in every story in Storm & Shelter. Find more clues by following on to each stop in our Snooping Reporter Blog Hop. The next stop features Grace Burrowes’ pony, who has a strong opinion about the identity of the reporter. https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/storm-shelter/wanted-the-snooping-teatime-tattler-reporter/who-has-been-telling-tales/ 

Local prize

Comment on this post to go in the draw for winners’ choice of any Jude Knight ebook.

About the book

When a storm blows off the North Sea and slams into the village of Fenwick on Sea, the villagers prepare for the inevitable: shipwreck, flood, land slips, and stranded travelers. The Queen’s Barque Inn quickly fills with the injured, the devious, and the lonely—lords, ladies, and simple folk; spies, pirates, and smugglers all trapped together. Intrigue crackles through the village, and passion lights up the hotel.

One storm, eight authors, eight heartwarming novellas.

Buy it for 99 cents until April 17

https://books2read.com/u/38Rr8w

International Buy Links:

Amazon AU |BR |CA |DE |ES |FR |IN |IT |JP |MX |NL |UK

Angus & Robertson

 

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Spotlight on Storm & Shelter (and a contest with a great prize)

I thought I’d share a couple of early reviews with you, to celebrate the coming release of this book on Tuesday.

InD’Tale Magazine gave us a Crowned Heart of excellence, saying, in part.

Set in the fictional village of Fenwick on Sea, “Storm & Shelter” is a superb and varied collection bound to impress a variety of Regency fans. The collection’s theme focuses on those from a higher station in life falling in love with those from a lower station. And it works, no matter the plot or trope. [https://indtale.com/reviews/historical/storm-shelter]

Flippin’ Pages Reviews says:

I will say one thing that relates to all of the stories I read in this book – they are all remarkably well filled out and that is a difficult thing to do in so few pages. [https://flippinpages.blog/2021/03/30/storm-shelter-by-bluestocking-belles/]

And some other comments picked at random from the reviews on GoodReads:

A great anthology of novellas from some of my favourite writers has kept me entertained and reading long into the night!

Leave it to the Bluestocking Belles to come up with another fabulous collection

I enjoyed every one of these stories and found that they all tie into each other in a wonderful way that will have you reading long into the night to get the stories finished.

This is one of the best anthologies I’ve read for having the stories go together, even having characters from one author’s story being a side character in another author’s story. Very enjoyable!

And last but not least, this comment:

Nice touch at the beginning of each story is a snippet from a reporter at the inn . Some of the people forced to seek shelter in the storm. Following the reporter’s remarks is the blurb – which I absolutely love when that is at beginning. We never find out who the reporter is.

But wait! You can find out who the reporter is! The clues are there in the stories, and if you put them together and get the right person, you can enter a draw to win some fabulous prizes. Details on the contest page on the Bluestocking Belles ‘website.

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Spotlight on Storm & Shelter: Jude Knight and Grace Burrowes

These two novellas — mine and Grace’s– end the anthology. The review in Flippin’ Pages Reviews says about Grace’s: There are some really good stories in here, but this was my absolute favorite. And about mine: OH! This was the sweetest, loveliest story. I loved ALL of the characters. (She had nice things to say about all 8 stories. Honestly, folks, this book is a peach.)

A Dream Come True: By Jude Knight

The tempest that batters Barnaby Somerville’s village is the latest but not the least of his challenges.

Vicar to a remote parish, he stretches his tiny stipend to adopt his orphaned niece and nephew and his time to offer medical care as well as spiritual. A wife is a dream he cannot afford.

But the storm sweeps into his life a surprising temptation—a charming young woman who lavishes her gentle care upon his wards—and him.

God knows, he will forever be richer for having known her, even if he must let her go.

Excerpt:

Barney turned toward the voice, and there she was. Theo. His ministering angel. His beloved. Her eyes were weary, her clothing rumpled, and wisps of untidy hair fell from the braids that crowned her head. He had not seen a more splendid woman in all his years. She was altogether beautiful.

A Kiss by the Sea: By Grace Burrowes

He’s not really a blacksmith, and she’s not really an heiress… Can they forge a happily-ever-after anyway?

Thaddeus Pennrith finds a way to recover from multiple griefs when he accepts the blacksmith’s post at Fenwick on Sea. Village life gives him a sense of belonging that Polite Society never could, though he must resume his aristocratic responsibilities soon. Along comes Lady Sarah Weatherby, refugee from an engagement gone badly awry, and Thaddeus is faced with both a compelling reason to reveal his titled antecedents, and a longing to keep them forever hidden….

Excerpt:

“I need a repairing lease too,” Sarah told Thad. “I found myself engaged to marry a party who turned out to be unsuitable, and those around me were not inclined to listen when I said so. I learned that my intended was about to abduct me for an unscheduled journey north.”

Storm & Shelter: A Bluestocking Belles Collection With Friends

When a storm blows off the North Sea and slams into the village of Fenwick on Sea, the villagers prepare for the inevitable: shipwreck, flood, land slips, and stranded travelers. The Queen’s Barque Inn quickly fills with the injured, the devious, and the lonely—lords, ladies, and simple folk; spies, pirates, and smugglers all trapped together. Intrigue crackles through the village, and passion lights up the hotel.

One storm, eight authors, eight heartwarming novellas.

Find out more on the Bluestocking Belles’ project page. 

Only 99c while on preorder. Published April 13th.