Anne Whitfield's Blog, page 8

A trophy and some knights!

This weekend saw the end of the cricket season in Australia. Both my boys, Jack and Joshua, made it to the grand finals. Josh and his team won their grand final for under16s on Saturday morning. (Sadly Josh and Jack lost their 2nd grade grand final the following day.)
Beside the oval where Josh's team were playing, we heard yelling and the clash of metal. Intrigued, I went beyond the spectators and to my surprise found a group of knights in full battle cry! I started talking to one gentleman, dressed in 12 century clothes, including a long grey beard, who was watching and he told me they were re-enactors from all over NSW and Canberra, and they meet up to compete against each other and discuss all things medieval. I have to say that watching them I saw passion and clear attention to detail. Despite the different groups representing different medieval eras, they were quite serious in their fighting. It was very interesting to watch.






Josh and his skipper Blake Parker with the trophy!

St Patrick's Day!

Don't you just love the Irish? It's St Patrick's Day!
In honour of this famous day I've changed my desktop to a rotating theme of landscaped of Ireland. The images make me want to hop on a plane and go there. Of course it's in my blood, don't you know?
Oh yes, I have Irish ancestors, my great grandfather on my father's mother's side was Patrick Kittrick from county Mayo!
On my Mum's side I have great great grandfather Joseph Nichols, also Irish born.
My husband's family, Whitfield, originated from County Cavan and came to Australia in chains in 1820.

 

And I always like to add a touch of the Irish somewhere in my books.
In my contemporary romance, Long Distance Love, I have Patrick Donnelly a gorgeous Irishman who sweeps Fleur off her feet.
Long Distance Love is available in print or ebook on Kindle.

Blurb;

Fleur Stanthorpe, an Australian, arrives in Whitby, England to live out a dream after surviving cancer. She's to open a bookshop café and experience the English way of life for the summer before returning home and settling down.
Only she hasn't counted on meeting gorgeous Irishman, Patrick Donnelly. Their attraction is instant - their goals a world apart. He is looking for a solid relationship for the first time since his divorce five years ago. She is having her last fling at freedom before returning home to family and responsibilities.
Their problems are more than surviving a hot summer of romance, but wondering what will happen when the summer draws to an end and Fleur returns to the other side of the world.

99 cents Anthology

Written by author Anne Whitfield, this anthology is a collection of heart warming short stories focusing on different ways a life can change. From simple incidents to making major decisions, we follow the journeys of different characters as they begin new phases of their lives.

Buy from Amazon Kindle store -
http://www.amazon.com/Beginnings-short-story-anthology-ebook/dp/B004BLJA3M/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1299839433&sr=1-5

A Blog Award

A good friend, Jen Black, also a fellow author, awarded me a 'One Lovely Blog Award.' Which is very kind of her.

Part of the award is to share it and give it to blogs I deem worthy, so here goes;
Hoydens and Firebrands http://hoydensandfirebrands.blogspot.com/
Judith Arnopp http://juditharnoppnovelist.blogspot.com/
Susan Cook http://susandcook.blogspot.com/
Maggi Andersen http://www.maggiandersenauthor.com/news.html

Mirella Patzer - The Blighted Troth

                                                                                                              
 A dear friend of mine and author, Mirella Patzer has released a new book, The Blithed Troth. It's available on Kindle now and soon in paperback.

A compelling story of love and treachery, faith and loss, forgiveness and triumph. In 18th century New France, a brave young woman must strive to make her own way in life and in love.


In the year 1702 in New France, Emilie, a virtuous young woman is betrothed to Robert, the town's handsome miller. On the eve of her wedding, when Emilie spurns the attention of the town's wealthy seigneur, it sets off a catastrophic chain of events that turns her life, and that of her betrothed, into a desperate flight for their lives, sending them straight into the arms of peril.
Seigneur Richard de Tonnacour, the town's black-hearted and corrupt overlord, will stop at nothing to claim Emilie for himself. When his abduction attempt of Emilie goes awry, she and Robert are forced to flee their homes. Forcefully separated, the lovers each encounter new troubles including famine, a Quebec bread riot, a death sentence, and the small pox epidemic of 1703. Embroiled in a fateful chase, Emilie learns that not even the devious madness of her adversaries can destroy her love for Robert. Amid heartache and tragedy, Emilie and Robert struggle to overcome adversity until a turn of events reveals Robert's true identity. As destiny draws them back together, they learn the lessons of love, forgiveness, and family.

The Blighted Troth is a retelling of the classic novel, The Betrothed (I Promessi Sposi) by Alessandro Manzoni. Inspired by this epic Italian classic novel, the author weaves an entirely new and unqiue captivating tale in a new setting, a new century, and with new plot twists.
 
An older novel from Mirella is The Pendant.
 
A lost ancient treasure. A 100 year family feud. A woman who must choose between two men: one bound by a dying wish, the other bound by desperation. And a passion richer than the bloodstone pendant she wears around her neck.


In medieval Italy, as spirited and stalwart as any man, the brazen Countess Morena is betrothed to the impoverished, black-hearted Count Ernesto; a man desperate to escape his mounting gambling debts by marrying her and laying claim to the ancient treasure secreted somewhere in the underbelly of her castle. Morena meets her match when Amoro, the handsome and brash heir to the Duchy of Genoa, swears an oath upon his father's grave to claim her as his bride and end the feud between their families. Soon, Amoro's virile charm awakens the passion in her steadfast heart. But a treacherous plot ensnares them; Ernesto abducts Morena and renders Amoro helpless. Embroiled in a life-and-death chase, Morena learns that not even the devious madness of her captor can destroy her love for Amoro as their hearts unite and their destinies become one.

New cover: The House of Women

I just wanted to show off my amazing new cover for my Victorian historical novel, The House of Women, which will be released May 9th 2011. More details soon.

Review: All That Mullarkey by Sue Moorcroft

Blurb;
Revenge and love: it's a thin line... The writing's on the wall for Cleo and Gav. The bedroom wall, to be precise. And it says 'This marriage is over.' Wounded and furious, Cleo embarks on a night out with the girls, which turns into a glorious one night stand with... Justin, centrefold material and irrepressibly irresponsible. He loves a little wildness in a woman and he's in the right place at the right time to enjoy Cleo's. But it s Cleo who has to pick up the pieces of a marriage based on a lie and the lasting repercussions of that night. Torn between laid-back Justin and control freak Gav, she s a free spirit that life is trying to tie down. But the rewards are worth it!





Sue Moorcroft's book All That Mullarkey was very enjoyable.

Set in England, it was a fun and easy read, but also freshly modern.
The well drawn characters seemed people you would know in life, neighbours or friends.
The only nit pick I would have is that some of the secondary characters' names were alike, Gav and Gez made me stumble a few times. However, that is only minor.
I read this book on my Kindle and it was very well priced.

ANZ authors website

I'm a member of a group of Australian and New Zealand authors who have banded together to discuss writing, etc.
We now have a website! http://anzauthors.yolasite.com/
And this is my page on that website. http://anzauthors.yolasite.com/anne-whitfield.php

Come visit!

The Reluctant Marquess by Maggi Andersen

My dear friend, Maggi Andersen has a new release and I wanted to shout it out here.
Blurb:
A country-bred girl, Charity Barlow never expected to become a Marchioness. Nonetheless, she is determined to make her marriage of convenience into the ton work. Yet despite the strong attraction between them, and Charity's bold attempts at intimacy, the rakish Lord Robert does not believe a husband should be in love with his wife. Can she ever make him love her?

Excerpt:
The footman knocked on a solid oak door.
'Enter.'
She stepped with trepidation into the room to be embraced by warmth. A fire blazed in the baronial fireplace where a liver-spotted spaniel lifted its head to study her. After a thump of a tail, its head sank to its paws again, lulled back to sleep by the heat. Above the fireplace, the painting of a hunting scene featured several dogs. Two tall china spaniels flanked the fireplace mantel. The heavy oak beams across the ceiling, and walls covered floor to ceiling in shelves of tomes made the room seem snug. Charity rushed over and crouched on the Oriental rug beside the animal, giving it a pat. The dog's tail thumped harder. 'You're a nice fellow, aren't you?' Her stiff cold muscles loosened, and the icy pit at the base of her stomach began to thaw. Maybe she could be happy here. She loved dogs.
'Welcome to Castle St. Malin.'
A man rose from behind a massive mahogany desk strewn with papers in the corner of the room. He crossed the room to greet her. He was not her godfather. She caught her breath. He was tall, his dark hair drawn back in a queue, and there was something of the marquess' haughty demeanour about his handsome face, but she doubted he'd yet reached thirty.
'Thank you.' Charity could only stare at his attire, her gaze locked on his gold silk waistcoat as he bowed before her. He was in mourning, for black crepe graced the sleeve of his emerald green coat. With a sense of foreboding, she curtseyed on wobbly knees. 'Where is the marquess, if you please?' She looked around hoping her godfather might pop out of somewhere, but the room was otherwise empty.
'I am the Marquess of St. Malin. My uncle passed away a short time ago.'
'Oh. I'm so sorry.' What she feared was true. Charity had an overwhelming desire to sit and glanced at the damask sofa.
He reacted immediately, taking her arm and escorting her to a chair. 'Sit by the fire. You look cold and exhausted.' He turned to the footman. 'Bring a hot toddy for Miss Barlow.'
Charity sank down gratefully, her modest panniers settling around her.
'I find the staff here poorly trained,' he said. 'I don't know what my uncle was about.'
'Why did you send a carriage for me?' she asked, leaning back against the sofa cushions. 'I wouldn't have come had I known.'
'I thought it best to sort the matter out here and now.' He rested an elbow on a corner of the mantel and stirred the dog with a foot. 'Shame on you, Felix. You might accord Miss Barlow a warm welcome.' He looked at her. 'My uncle's dog; he's mourning his master.' He raised his brows. 'Notice of my uncle's passing appeared in The Daily Universal Register.'
'We don't get that newspaper in my village.'
'You don't? I wasn't aware of you until the reading of the will. Then I learned of your parents' death from my solicitor. I'm very sorry.'
'Thank you. I'm sorry, too, about your uncle.'
'My uncle fell ill only a few months ago. He rallied and then …' The new marquess' voice faded. He sighed and stared into the fire.
'You must have been very fond of him,' Charity said into the quiet pause that followed. Though, if she were honest, she felt surprise that the cool man she remembered could have provoked that level of affection.
He raised his eyes to meet hers and gave a bleak smile. 'Yes, I was fond of him. He always had my interest at heart, you see.' He sat in the oxblood leather chair opposite and rested his hands on his knees. 'I am his acknowledged heir, and the legalities have been processed. I've inherited the title and the entailed properties. The rest of his fortune will pass to another family member should I fail to conform to the edicts of his will.'
'His will?' Charity gripped her sweaty hands together, she couldn't concentrate on anything the man said. Her mind whirled, filled with desperate thoughts. With her godfather dead, where would she go from here? Her heart raced as she envisioned riding off along the dark cliffs to join a theatre troupe, or become a tavern wench.
'This must be difficult for you to take in, and I regret having to tell you tonight before you have rested. But I'm compelled to move quickly as you have no chaperone and have travelled here alone …'
She raised her chin. 'There was no one to accompany me.' She would not allow him to make her feel like a poor relation, even though she was quite definitely poor. And alone. She hated that more than anything. What had her godfather left her? She hoped it would allow her some measure of independence and wasn't just a vase or the family portrait.
The footman entered, carrying a tray with a cup of steaming liquid. Charity took the drink and sipped it gratefully. It was warming and tasted of a spicy spirit. She found it hard to concentrate on his words, as her mind retreated into a fog and her eyes wandered around the room. She finished the drink, which had heated her insides, and allowed her head to loll back against the cushions. Her gaze rested on her host, thinking he would be handsome if he smiled. She was so tired, and the warmth of the fire made her drowsy. What was he saying?
'It's the best thing for both of us, don't you agree?'
She shook her head to try and clear it. 'I'm sorry, what did you say?'
He frowned. 'The will states we must marry. Straightaway, I'm afraid.'
'I … What? I'm to m-marry you?' Placing her cup down carefully on the table she struggled to her feet, fighting fatigue and the affects of whatever it was she'd just drunk. Smoothing her gown, she glanced at the door through which she intended to depart at any moment. 'I have no intention …'
His lips pressed together in a thin line. 'I know it's perplexing. I didn't intend to wed for some years. I certainly would have preferred to choose whom I married, as no doubt would you.'
Her jaw dropped. What kind of man was this? She had been raised to believe that marriage was a sacred institution. He made it sound so … inconsequential. She stared at him. 'The will states I must marry you?'
'Yes, that's exactly what it states.' He rose abruptly with a rustle of silk taffeta and moved closer to the fire. She wondered if he might be as nervous as she. 'Unless I'm prepared to allow my uncle's unentailed fortune go to a distant relative. Which I am not. As I have said.' His careful tone suggested he thought her a simpleton. Under his unsympathetic gaze, she sank back down onto the sofa. 'You are perfectly within your rights to refuse, but I see very few options open to you. As my wife, you will live in comfort. You may go to London to enjoy the Season. I shall give you a generous allowance for gowns and hats, and things a lady must have.' His gaze wandered over her cream muslin gown, and she placed a hand on the lace that disguised the small patch near her knee. 'What do you say?'
She tilted her head. 'I shall receive an allowance? For gowns, and hats, and things a lady must have.'
'Exactly,' he said with a smile, obviously quite pleased with himself. 'I see we understand each other perfectly. So … do you agree?'
What was wrong with this man? Slowly, Charity released a heavy sigh. She could barely contemplate such a thing as this, and yet he acted as though he'd solved all the problems of the world with fashion accessories. She had hoped for a small stipend, but marriage! And to a complete stranger. She couldn't! Not for all the gowns and hats on earth. She straightened up in her chair and lifted her chin. Her words were clipped and precise, and she hoped beyond hope he would accept her decision gracefully. 'I say no, Lord St. Malin.'
'No? Really?'
'Yes, really.'
'How disappointing,' he said quietly.
She gulped as his heavy-lidded eyes continued to study her from head to foot. She was uncomfortably aware that the mist had sent her hair into a riot of untidy curls, and she smoothed it away from her face with both hands as she glanced around the room. She tucked a muddy shoe out of sight beneath her gown and then forced herself to meet his gaze. Might he like anything of what he saw? Her father loved that she had inherited her mother's tiny waist, and she thought her hands pretty. His lordship's gaze strayed to her breasts and remained there rather long. She sucked in a breath as her heart beat faster. When their eyes met did she detect a gleam of approval? It only made her more nervous.

ISBN: 9781844718425

Salt Publishing Buy link: http://www.saltpublishing.com/ebooks/reg
Amazon Kindle Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/The-Reluctant-Marquess-ebook/dp/B004NBY2EW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=A24IB90LPZJ0BS&s=books&qid=1297546064&sr=1-1  


Author website: http://www.maggiandersenauthor.com

Go buy it! :)

Cleveland Street Workhouse Petition

In January I was made aware of a historical workhouse - the former Strand workhouse on Cleveland Street in England -  being in danger of demolition. I signed the petition to help stop that from happening.Today I received further news on the project.
Dear Friend,
I am writing to you because you were good enough to sign the e-petition in support of the Cleveland Street workhouse.
We have two bits of news for you, and an urgent request.
The first bit of news is that one of our supporters (yours truly) has discovered that Charles Dickens lived only 9 doors away from the workhouse!! His address was in a street called Norfolk Street, which is now the southerly part of Cleveland Street, and is now included in its numbering. None of the biographers seems to have noticed this - they knew the address, but did not notice the workhouse. Remarkably, the house still stands, on the corner with Tottenham Street. The fact that there was a workhouse so close to his home (he lived there twice before he wrote Oliver Twist, and for over four years in all) of course means that your support for the workhouse was not for just any old workhouse, but for the very one which may have been the inspiration for the most famous workhouse in the world!!
The Dickens Fellowship is supporting our efforts to get a blue plaque on the house.
The second bit of news is that we have made an appeal with new evidence to the government Minister, which thankfully has been greeted with a request to English Heritage to re-consider its earlier report. The earlier report recommended listing for preservation, and we are hoping the reconsideration will too - especially as the new evidence includes the Dickens connection. English Heritage is about to submit its report any day, and the Minister will then consider it. Of course we are hoping for the best.
The request is that we would very much appreciate it if you could get one other person (or more if you can!) to sign the petition as soon as possible ie: within 24 hours of receiving this!!! We have nearly 2000 signatures and want to get as many as we possibly can before we submit it to the minister later this week.
If you want to keep up to date with our news, look at http://www.workhouses.org/  - the petition is there too!
Thank-you SO MUCH for your support.
Warmest wishes,Dr Ruth Richardson, historianOn behalf of the Cleveland Street Workhouse group.
So please go and sign the petition and help save an historic building. Once these places are gone they can never be brought back. We mustn't let that happen!http://www.gopetition.com/petition/39594/sign.html#se
Thank you!