News

by

Coming soon

I’m sending my newsletter this coming week. I’m just waiting on pre-order links from Apple, Barnes & Noble, and Nook for next month’s publication of short stories, Chasing the Tale: Volume II. It’s up on Amazon now. Read more about Chasing the Tale: Volume II  and the stories in it on my book page.

I’ve finished writing the newsletter short story, The Lady in a White Gown, so that’s already to go. Thank you to the subscriber that sent me a painting to use as a jump off point.

The newsletter will also have news about books from author friends, and early notice of a box set from the Bluestocking Belles for Christmas. So if you’re a subscriber, watch your inbox.

Here’s the intro to The Lady in a White Gown.

Victoria glared at the white gown that hung on the dressing screen, ready for its starring role at tomorrow’s wedding. Her wedding. If, in fact, it happened.

It was not the gown that offended. In truth, she had thought it lovely three weeks ago, when the modiste had sketched it, and it was even more beautiful in reality. She had not chosen the colour. Her mother remembered the story her dear friend Lady Benfield had told about Lord Carney’s demand to be introduced to the lady in the white gown. At a ball where at least thirty of the young ladies wore white, he had seen only Victoria, and Mother found that very sweet.

“This gown shall remind him of that night,” she proclaimed. “It shall be so romantic. Besides, the Queen, for whom you were named, wore white when she was wed, and look what a happy marriage that was, poor dear lady.”

Victoria thought that wearing gowns she had chosen herself would be one of the many benefits of becoming a married woman, but she knew that saying so would merely send her mother into another lecture about behaviour unbecoming in a viscountess.

Mother was delighted that Victoria was marrying a viscount. To Victoria, Lord Carney’s title was a disincentive, but one he had overcome with his attentive charm. Until the betrothal was announced, at which point, he had disappeared entirely, though he’d claimed he would only be gone a day or two.

She sent the gown another scowl. She had argued for a coloured sash and trim. The palest of pale blues, the colour her mother had chosen, did not, in Victoria’s opinion, qualify as a colour. She was wearing a gown she did not choose to please a man she did not know.

Perhaps Lord Carney would not arrive back in London in time for the ceremony. Perhaps he had been in London all along, and had only pretended to have business at his estate. Perhaps she would be left at the altar!

Perhaps, if she was, it was for the best.

by

Not enough spoons

I just want to apologise to newsletter subscribers. You will get your newsletter this month, and the different newsletter options I talked about last month shortly after.

I have another thousand or so words to write in your story for this month’s issue, and I’ve not been able to get them done. I have two novels and a novella that need to be finished by mid-December, which means a monthly word count I must meet, and various visitors plus trips away for medical appointments (one for my son and one for my husband) have kept me from my writing much for five of the last sixteen days, and at all for three.

I’ve learned to pace myself. If I veer into spoon deficit*, my chronic illness is going to steal more days.

But I’ve paced myself with a vengeance this month, writing when I can, even if only a few hundred words at a time. Today, I hit the halfway point for the month’s words. The novella is exactly where it should be, at 12,000 words, and I’m just 12,500 off my end of month target on Perchance to Dream, and 13,000 on Flavour of our Deeds. So tomorrow, I’m going to take some time out to finish The White Gown, and by the end of next week, you’ll have it in your hot little hands.

Thank you for your patience. It’ll be rewarded when I have a book out every month from next month until February 2024.

For an explanation of spoon theory, see this story. Or this graphic is a good way of how spoon theory works in practice.

by

What I’ve been up to and what is coming.

I’ve just completely revised my Works in Progress page, with a list of the books I plan to publish between now and January 2024. There are fifteen. (At least. In the last six months, I’ve written 270,000 words of the 700,000 word total I’ll need to reach the target, and I have until the end of October 2023 to write the last of the remaining 430,000, so I should be able to squeeze in another book or two.)  Take a look and let me know what you think. Is there something you’re waiting for that isn’t on there? Is there anything you’re particularly anxious to see?

I’m currently writing Perchance to Dream and The Flavours of Our Deeds, revising Snowy and the Seven Blossoms and Zara’s Locket, and thinking about The Talons of the Lyon and the Bluestocking Belles ‘Box set for 2023. Perchance and Snowy belong to A Twist Upon a Regency Tale, the same series as the beautiful cover above, Lady Beast’s Bridegroom.  See the new A Twist Upon a Regency Tale page for the titles, covers, and blurbs of all four books. The Flavours of Our Deeds is the next book in The Golden Redepennings series. And Zara’s Locket will be in the Belles’ 2022 Holiday box set.

by

Sunflower Season is live

Hurrah! Sunflower Season, the Charity Anthology for the benefit of Ukraine, is trending across all retailers!
 
You may have heard about our problems with Amazon. One day before release, and the book was deleted. We had to put it up again, but lost all the pre-orders.
 
If you’ve brought from another retailer, you should have it by now. If you pre-ordered and haven’t got it, please make sure your preorder is cancelled and buy again.
 
And if you don’t have it, get it now! At 78 stories and over 6000 pages, it is great value.
 
Universal link: https://books2read.com/Sunflower-Season-For-Ukraine
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3OhUyoX
by

Share Desperate Daughters and be in the draw to win

Help spread the word about Desperate Daughters.

Share our contest page and our Bachelor and other memes to any of your social media accounts. Each share gets you an entry into one of the weekly draws and the Grand Prize draw.

Enter the Week One draw here: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/bb92b0a64/?

Find memes here: https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/desperate-daughters/sharing/

Read more about Desperate Daughters here: https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/desperate-daughters/

 

Weekly prize

Every entry goes into the draw to win:

We’ll draw a winner each week for four weeks.

Grand prize

Every entry also goes in the draw to win:

  • $100 gift card
  • a made-to-order story. The winner gives Jude Knight some ingredients for a story (one character, a plot trope, and an object). Jude writes the story and the winner gets an ecopy at least three months before it is published anywhere else, and their name in the dedication at publication.
by

Random bits of knowledge on WIP Wednesday

One of the things I love about writing historical romances is the research. Not just the big important stuff, but the odd bits of knowledge that I come across or look up for a particular story. Do you have an example in one of your books? I’d love you to share in the comments. Mine is the opening to my next story for newsletter subscribers. My newsletter is going out next week, and the story is called The Easter Bonnet.

“Come on, Millie. Put that away and join us,” Sadie tempted.

Millie shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I have to finish this.” She held up the bonnet she was trimming.

“You can do it in the morning,” Sadie insisted. “We’re going to drop into the pub for a tot of gin and a bit of a chin wag.”

“I have to deliver it on my way home,” Millie countered. “Madam said the lady is leaving for the country in the morning, and wants to take it with her.”

“Madam should do it herself then.”

Madam was with child, but Millie had been told that in confidence. “I don’t mind,” she told Sarah. “It is going to be very pretty when it is finished.”

Sadie stared at her for a moment then shrugged. “Another time, then.” She whirled around and in moments the door shut behind her and Millie was alone.

She finished attaching the edging. The bonnet was formed in twisted straw, edged in a ribbon that apparently matched Lady Paula Temple’s favourite walking dress. Lady Paula planned to wear them both to Easter services in her home village, for the delight—to hear the lady tell the tale—of the entire community.

Millie picked out another length of ribbon of the same colour but much wider, and began to pleat and pin it around the base of the bonnet, so that the straw would not catch in the lady’s coiffure. Coiffure. Millie said the word out loud, shaping it with lips and tongue. Coiffure was what the upper classes called their hair dos. It must be nice to be a wealthy beauty with an indulgent father and a whole battalion of suitors.

A further length of ribbon, this one in a slightly darker shade. It would go over the join between brim and bonnet, then be gathered into a rosette on each side where it met the base. Two more lengths from the same roll would form the ties to hold the bonnet on.

Quick but careful stitches soon had those in place.

Millie had made herself a bonnet in a similar design, though of much cheaper materials and in different colours. Madam would not object to Millie copying the design, as long as there was no chance of a customer recognising the copy.

Millie snorted. Fat chance of that. The customers who could afford Madam’s creations did not see such lowly beings as a milliner’s assistant.

The silk flowers came next. Pink moss roses, symbolizing perfect happiness and also the confession of love. Daisies for innocence. Blue cornflowers for hope. Myrtle for good luck. Lady Paula had specified these particular flowers. Millie wondered what message she was trying to send and to whom. But perhaps Lady Paula just liked the colours.

Millie secured a single rose, three daisies, and two cornflowers inside the brim, where they would draw attention to Lady Paula’s eyes. The rest would form—soon did form, thanks to Millie’s clever needle—a cascade over the other side, covering the join between brim and crown.

There. Done. Millie set the bonnet back on the hat block and stood back. She walked all the way around where it sat on the table. Yes. It would do.

Her own version of the hat was trimmed with violets. Innocence, modesty, remembrance. The violets were the least damaged of all the silk flowers being sold at half-price, because they had been damaged by an accident with a bucket of water. She had parted with a hard-earned a sprig of myrtle at full price, because good luck was worth it.

by

Up and Rolling in Two 22

I’m trying to keep all my balls in the air while maintaining a work-life balance

Happy New Year! It has been a couple of peculiar years in a row. A global pandemic is not necessarily the best time to sell our home of 20 years, move to another town, buy a new house, and do a complete renovation inside and out. By the time I published To Tame the Wild Rake in September, I was weary to the bone. The plot elves hung on for a few weeks to see a novella finished for the next Bluestocking Belles (with Friends) anthology, and then packed up to begin an early holiday.

How did your 2021 end? And how has it started?

For me, the holiday is over. We saw the last tradesman finish his work just before Christmas. Since then, we’ve almost finished all of the tasks we’d set out to do ourselves, but the pressure is off and we can set our own pace. On the story front, the plot elves are back and so am I.

I’m starting back into my regular blogging schedule, so check back here on Monday’s for Tea with Duchess of Haverford, on Wednesdays for an excerpt from one of my works in progress, on Fridays for snippets from my research and on Sundays for my news or book news from other authors. Do check out my I love guest authors page if you’d like to appear on my blog or in my newsletter.

I have three works-in-progress on the go, and I’ve others lined up to pick from when I finish any of those. I’m signed up for several more anthologies, and also for some stories in series with other authors. And I’ve started a new series of my own (more about that later).

Paradise at Last, which suffered when the plot elves decamped, is one of those works. I hope to have it finished and ready for ARC within the next week. Here’s a sneak peek. The scene is between Eleanor and her son, just before Christmas in 1815.

She owed her son an apology. She had already acknowledged her wrong-doing to Cherry, and been forgiven. But how could she tell her son of her remorse when he avoided her, and spoke to her only with distant politeness?

She would have to ask him for a private audience, but before she nerved herself to do so, he made the request himself. She followed him to the library, and allowed him to close the door behind them.

“Haverford, I have apologised for interfering between you and Cherry, but I would like to do so again. I have known all along that I was wrong to go privately to Cherry as I did. You are adults, and I should have said what I thought to both of you and trusted you to make your own decision. I am truly sorry for the distress I caused you.”

Haverford opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Eleanor put up a hand to stop him. “I have a second apology to make, Haverford. Watching you and Cherry together in the past week shows me that I was wrong again—wrong to believe that your love for Cherry was less deep than hers for you. Wrong to think that you would fall out of love once you had achieved your prize. All I ever wanted was for both of you to be happy. You are perfect for one another, and I shudder to think how close I came to preventing that happiness.”

For a moment, Haverford said nothing, his mouth hanging slightly open as if the words he’d planned to say had dissolved on his tongue. Then he gave a slight shake of his head. “Thank you, Mama.”

“I will never interfere again,” Eleanor promised. Perhaps that was a bit rash. “At least, I will try my very best.”

Haverford’s smile was small, but it reached his eyes. “I shall not ask such a sacrifice, Mama. Both Cherry and her mother have pointed out what a marvelous gift you have for interfering, as you call it. All I ask is that you consult us first on any plans you have that involve us and that you promise not to proceed without our agreement.”

Eleanor’s eyes were wet. She blinked to clear them. “I can promise that,” she agreed.

His smile broadened. “Come on, Mama. We have a house to decorate.”

He offered her his hand to help her rise, and his elbow to escort her back to the ballroom, just in time to see a footman moving a ladder away from the arched doorway. A kissing ball hung in the middle of the arch. Cherry stood looking up at it, and she glanced their way and smiled to see them together.

Haverford put his arm around Eleanor, reached up for a mistletoe berry, and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I love you, Mama,” he told her. “Merry Christmas.”

And it was.

by

Normal Service Will Resume Shortly


Just a quick note to apologise for the break in posting. We’ve been flat out at our place. The painting is nearly all done, and we’re on a sprint to Friday, when the carpet goes down. I have two more small jobs to do, then I’m taking the computer down and putting it safely away until all the furniture is back in place. Possibly the weekend.

Stay well, folks.