News
At last, some news!
I admit, I haven't been writing much recently. But I have been thinking and planning. Finally, this year, I'm ready.
Remember my books about The Daring Dersinghams, the sisters with absorbing hobbies? Well, they're going wide! New cover art, a tweak to the blurb and they're being re-released. I loved writing these books, not least because one of them was based on an ancestor of mine. My ancestor, Hester Bateman, was indeed a widow who introduced innovations into the silversmithing industry, and got her own maker's mark, but she never remarried. This person does, so I did deviate a fair bit from her story.
So A Touch of Silver, A Hint of Starlight, A Trace of Roses and A Whisper of Treason will be reissued, as will their associated novellas, A Bunch of Mistletoe and Past, Present Future.
The books will be coming out every week, starting on the 15th January. This time, they won't be Amazon exclusive, they'll be available everywhere. Check them out, won't you?
Excerpt from A Touch of Silver
Of course I have to give you a snippet of A Touch of Silver! I can't give you the cover art, because it's just being finalised, but I will send you that, I promise. Meantime, here are some Hester Bateman pieces of silver.
(photo taken by Sean Pathasema at the Birmingham Museum of Art)
Description
When two worlds collide, and earl and a City merchant have to fight society and the might of the City of London to earn their happily ever after.
Gerald Dersingham, the new Earl of Carbrooke, is captivated by the woman who storms into his house, demanding an explanation for a letter he had no idea he sent.
Gerald never meant to be an earl. He was happier living in seclusion with his bluestocking sisters. About to become betrothed to the icy daughter of a duke, he meets the vibrant, alluring Annie, who captures his heart. But if he gives in to his desires, he risks a happy ending for his sisters, and they deserve their chances.
Annie Cathcart is a widow from the City of London. Finally, she has the chance to achieve her dream of crating silverware for the table. But she needs Gerald's old Shoreditch home to do it.
Expecting a stuffy, pompous aristocrat, she meets a man who sees right through her practical exterior to the passionate woman beneath. She wants him more than the house, her respectability and her independence.
Annie and Gerald are faced with stark choices when her landlord tries to blackmail her into marriage.
Either they give in to the pressures forcing them into unhappy respectability apart... or they boldly defy convention in the name of love.
Excerpt
Gerald opened the letter and read it again. He loved his house in Bunhill Row. He and his sisters had made good memories there and, for that reason, he’d held off getting rid of the lease.
But this woman wanted it. Could he trust her with it?
The crackling as he folded the letter brought her attention back to him. Her expression hardened, her eyes turning to slivers of ice. “I would appreciate your answer, my lord.”
He suspected he might want privacy for this next part. He could see his sisters taking her side. “Would you come into my office so we may discuss this further, ma’am?” Unlike fashionable ladies, she wouldn’t expect to be treated as if a closed door would send her into fits.
She nodded her consent.
“Please, follow me.”
“Is your lawyer there?”
What would Smith be doing there? No, he would not set foot in his house again, if he could prevent it. “No. If you feel you need a chaperone, one of my sisters will serve.”
She slanted a brow. “I am used to speaking to men without anyone to protect my virtue. I can deal with a closed door. Your lordship has nothing to fear from me.” She sent him a sweet smile. “Nothing at all.”
Gerald doubted that. He was facing a formidable woman in Mrs. Cathcart. But it wasn’t his virtue he feared for, or hers for that matter. True, she was attractive, but she was also a married woman, and he never trespassed in that country. Besides, he was not accustomed to falling on women the minute the door was closed.
He took a moment to straighten his coat and twitch his neckcloth into place before ushering her into his study. The blasted woman had set him completely on edge. Her sheer presence had felled him.
His study lay at the back of the hall behind the front parlor. The shelves were lined with books from the previous earl that he had not yet got around to disposing of—sermons and texts, not Gerald’s kind of reading at all. The desk surface was covered with letters, notes and pieces of pasteboard—those infernal invitations. As fast as he cleared them up, new ones appeared to take their places. And Watson had just delivered a new stack of them.
Light streamed into the room from the garden, highlighting the other occupant where she stood, her ungloved hands folded neatly before her. She looked clean, pure, untainted by the complications affecting his life. He liked that, like a breath of fresh air blasting through the house, reminding him of what he’d left behind, and wished he had not.
He contemplated her, fascinated. Mrs. Cathcart was a woman with spirit, unlike the society beauties who maddened him by their lack of honest responses and their constant flirting. He enjoyed flirting, or had before he’d inherited the title. That seemed like a lifetime ago, although it had been but months. A woman dressed as she was should be deferential, surely. He was glad she was not.
She lifted her head and met his eyes. Gerald caught his breath, ensnared. Her lips were plump, inviting his kiss and, for the space of a mere second, he considered closing the distance between them and discovering what they tasted like. Except her uncompromising clothing and her air of confidence did not indicate a woman who would welcome his advances. Neither would he offer them. A damned shame, though.
She seemed equally taken, staring at him, her eyes rounding, and her mouth dropping open, but that brief exchange disappeared as she shifted her attention to the study, and the piles of dusty books and folders.
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with your name, or how you heard of my house.”
That set her devil free again. She shot a disdainful glance at the invitations, her eyes sparkling. “You told your lawyer to answer me in the way he did, is that not true? Why in God’s name would you do that?”
She took a few agitated steps away from him, turned around and strode back. Her heavy shoes clunked on the floorboards until she hit the soft carpet in front of his desk. She glared at him. “Well, my lord? I don’t ask you for compensation or an answer, but a courteous response would help.”
He stood in the middle of his mundane study, his world transformed by the dynamic presence of the woman before him. He stared.
“Do you have an answer, sir?” She glared at him. “Or even an apology? Is a City woman necessarily a whore, as your employee appears to assume? Or do you know better?”
Her very presence sent him into a spin. He’d better say something before she took him for a complete fool.
Out soon!
Thank you!
About Lynne
My Blog is here: https://lynneconnolly.wordpress.com/
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And write to me at this email address. I love to hear from you! If you would like to receive an Advance Review Copy, or just chat about my books, I'm here!
