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Release day of book six 'Betrayed & Blessed - The Viscount's Shrewd Wife' is fast approaching (September 12), and I thought I'd share a few early glimpses with you. I've gone through the novel and collected some of my favorite little quotes. So, sit back and enjoy! The first quote is from the night of […]

What do you think of these couples?

Writing a story always means creating a new world (including its people)...even if the characters live in the here and now. After all, their world is not completely like ours. It's merely a variation, which in turn makes it all the more exciting because in their world anything is possible. In my historical romance series […]

Help me name Anna and Edmond’s daughter!

Naming their baby is one of the greatest joys for new parents. As a writer, I often feel like a parent to the many characters I create, and it feels truly wonderful when people you've guided to their happily-ever-after end up becoming parents themselves.   When Rosabel and Graham become parents at the end of […]

Read the Prologue NOW!

Book five in my Love's Second Chance Series, Ruined & Redeemed - The Earl's Fallen Wife, is now only ONE month away! The days are ticking down until the book will finally be released and available for purchase. However, I thought you might like a little sneak-peek ahead of time. So, sit tight and enjoy!



Prologue

England, spring 1804 (or a variation thereof)

Three Years Ago

A hand curled around a glass of water, Lady Charlotte Frampton stood by the refreshment table. Doing her best to drown out the cheerfulness of the many attending guests to her father’s rather impromptu ball, she forced the clear liquid down her throat, hoping it would somehow clear her mind and ease her heart.

“You look lovely tonight, my dear,” Lord Northfield whispered from behind her.

His breath brushed over the bare skin on her neck, and she gritted her teeth as a wave of nausea rolled over her. Swallowing, she turned around, eyes hard as she regarded him with all the repulsion that burned in her heart. “I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from calling me that, my lord.”

Instead of being offended, Lord Northfield chuckled. “How endearing,” he said, then glanced around the large ballroom before leaning closer. “You did not object the other night.”

“I did object,” Charlotte forced out through gritted teeth. “However, how was I to know that you are anything but a gentleman?”

Amused, Baron Northfield laughed. “Be that as it may,” he continued, “Your father will make the announcement within the hour,” his unrelenting eyes held hers for a moment before drifting lower to linger on more intimate places, “and then I shall have every right to call you my dear.” A triumphant sneer drew up his lips as he held her gaze, daring her to fight him, knowing that she could not win.

As his threat echoed in her ears, Charlotte felt her body grow rigid with dread and repulsion and the utter hopelessness of her situation. Her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand until her sinews stood out white and her hand began to ache. And yet, Charlotte welcomed the pain for it was far better than the torturous despair that ate at her soul.

Brushing a golden lock of his meticulously groomed hair behind his ear, Lord Northfield smiled at her, clearly amused with the struggle that coursed through her.

Once, she had thought him handsome with his clear blue eyes and symmetric features. He was tall and striking, and women flocked to him. However, on closer inspection, Charlotte now knew that he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a predator who preyed on the weak.

For a reason Charlotte could not fathom, his choice for a target had fallen on her.

And he had taken her down.

The memory of a nightmare flashed before her mind’s eye, and her hand convulsively clenched around the delicate glass in her hand.

A moment later, a soft crack reached her ears, and then the opposing pressure vanished. Cold water ran over her hand as tiny shards of crystal dug into her fingers and palm, others falling to the floor.

Lord Northfield’s eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze shifted to her hand.

Blood welled up between her clenched fingers and dripped to the ground. However, no one seemed to notice. The music continued to play. Couples continued to dance. And the world continued to turn.

Why didn’t anyone notice?

From a distance, a voice echoed to her ears. “Charlotte!”

Hearing his voice, Charlotte’s muscles instantly went slack with relief. Her hand opened, and the remaining shards fell to the floor as she fought the growing dizziness that threatened to knock out her legs from under her.

As she turned her head, she found him rushing toward her, his kind face clouded with concern as his eyes shifted from her face to her bloodied hand.

He was her friend, her protector, her saviour. He always had been, and yet, today, he could not help her.

“Kenneth,” she gasped as he reached for her hand, his watchful eyes examining the small cuts.

“Are you all right?” he asked, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. “What happened?” His eyes drifted to Lord Northfield, and she noticed the slight tension that always came to his jaw whenever he wanted to say more than he dared.

“I’m fine,” Charlotte said, allowing his strong arms to hold her upright as white lights began to dance before her eyes. “I’m fine,” she repeated although the meaning of that sentence was lost on her.

“It is nothing,” Lord Northfield interjected, a disapproving frown on his face as he glanced from her to Kenneth. Then he held out his hand to her. “Allow me to escort you to the terrace for some air.”

Staring at her own hand as though he’d just threatened to cut it off, Charlotte took a step back and then shook her head. The mere thought of being alone with that man terrified her to her very core.

At her rejection, Lord Northfield’s jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, revealing the unfeeling heart that beat in his chest. “You will do as I say,” he snapped, advancing on her.

“That’s enough, Northfield,” Kenneth commanded, stepping in front of her, shielding her with his body. He glared at her enemy. “Leave. Now.”

A snarl on his face, Lord Northfield took a deep breath as the glare in his eyes promised retribution. Squaring his shoulders, he raised his head, looking down at them with unconcealed disgust. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Closing her eyes, Charlotte took a deep breath. Although she held no hope in her heart for herself, she prayed that Kenneth would not suffer for his gallant heart. Who knew of what else Northfield was capable?

“What is going on, Charlotte?” Kenneth asked, his warm eyes searching her face as he held his handkerchief pressed to her wounded hand. “What just happened?” The look in his eyes told her that he was not referring to her bleeding hand.

Swallowing, Charlotte forced a smile on her face. “Nothing.” She shook her head, unable to look him in the eyes and lie. “Everything’s fine. Let me just go and take care of this.” Withdrawing her hand from his, she stepped around him and hastened toward the door before he could object.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she held them back until the solitude of the corridor engulfed her. Then the dam burst, and all the pain and misery of the past fortnight poured down her cheeks.

Unable to hold back the agonising sobs that tore from her throat, Charlotte fled through the first door she could find and retreated to the very back of the library, hoping that the distance would drown out her sobs. With hands curled into fists, she leaned back against a tall bookshelf, resting her head against its precious volumes, before her knees gave in and she sagged to the ground.

Then she heard the door open and footsteps approach.

Instantly, Charlotte froze, her sobs stuck in her throat as images of that one fateful night flashed before her eyes and her heart doubled over in pain. Not again! Her mind screamed, and she pushed herself to her feet. Had he come after her as he had then?

“Charlotte? Are you in here?”

For the second time that night, Kenneth’s voice washed over her strained nerves and put them at ease.

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte swallowed as her heart hammered in her chest. “I’m here,” she whispered, all strength gone from her body.

Footsteps echoed closer, and then Kenneth stood before her, his dark eyes searching her face. “Tell me what’s going on? What did he do?”

Averting her eyes, Charlotte shook her head. “Nothing,” she insisted in a feeble voice as she could not bear the thought of him looking at her the way her parents had. Not him. Not Kenneth. She needed him to look at her the way he always had. Only then did she stand a chance to come out of this with her soul intact.

As she tried to step around him, his hand settled on her shoulder and held her back…and Charlotte loved him for it. For knowing her so well. For being able to tell that something was wrong. For wanting to help her.

His other hand settled under her chin and gently tilted up her head. “Look at me,” he whispered, and when she finally did, a soft smile curled up his lips. “Tell me, and I will protect you.”

Wishing with all her heart that he could, Charlotte felt herself begin to tremble. “You cannot. There’s no way. You have to let me go.”

The expression in his eyes hardened. “Let me be the judge of that,” he said, his voice insistent. “Tell me. Did he say something to upset you? You’ve been acting strange for the past fortnight. Ever since the night of Lord Radcliffe’s ball, you’ve been…” His voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The way he spoke to you…” His eyes drilled into hers. “What did he do to you?”

Blinking back fresh tears, Charlotte shook her head. “That doesn’t matter now. I−”

A strangled growl rose from Kenneth’s throat as he stepped back, his hands balling into fists. Pacing the floor in front of her, he clenched and unclenched his hands, occasionally running them through his hair as though trying to pull them out by the roots. His eyes were dark and threatening, and the pulse in his neck hammered with such speed that Charlotte feared for him. Never had she seen him in such a rage.

Then he stopped his frantic pacing and came to stand in front of her, holding her gaze for a long time as though needing one final confirmation. Then he spun around on his heels and stormed toward the door. “I’ll kill him. I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

At his words, panic seized Charlotte’s heart and she rushed after him. “No. No. No. Please, don’t,” she pleaded, reaching for his arm and pulling him back to face her. “Please, I beg you. Don’t do this.”

Looking down at her, his eyes searched her face, confusion mingling with the rage so clearly edged in his features. “Why not? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go out there and challenge him.”

“Because he’ll kill you,” Charlotte sobbed, knowing her words to be true. “Believe me. He doesn’t fight fair. If you get in his way, he will kill you. And I’d rather marry him than lose you. You’re the only one who−”

“Marry him?” Kenneth’s eyes bulged. “Are you out of your mind? After what he did to you, why would you even consider−?”

“Because my father insists on it.” Swallowing, Charlotte looked into his eyes, remembering the moment she had gone to her parents for help, certain that they would protect her.

She had never been more wrong.

“What?” Disbelief written all over his face, Kenneth stared at her. “Why?”

As her hands began to tremble, Kenneth reached for her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight until her body began to still. “He said,” Charlotte began, remembering the look of disappointment on her father’s face, “that I should not have allowed him to take advantage of me.” As fear surged to the surface, she lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes pleading. “But I…I didn’t. I tried to stop him. Believe me.” Agonising sobs tore from her throat as she pleaded her case. “Please, believe me. I tried. I−”

Once more, Kenneth lifted her head and made her look at him. “I never thought I’d say this,” he forced out through clenched teeth, and Charlotte’s heart stopped, terrified to see him turn against her…just as her parents had, “but your father is not the kind of man I thought him to be.” He swallowed, raw emotions underneath his calm exterior. “You,” he looked deep into her eyes, imploring her to believe him, “have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? This is not your fault. None of it!”

Closing her eyes, Charlotte sagged against his shoulder, and once again, his arms held her tight.

Until that moment, she hadn’t realised how desperately she had needed someone to believe her, to not accuse her of wrongdoing, but to stand by her side…even if there was nothing he could do to help.

“Look at me,” he said once again, and she opened her eyes. Holding her gaze, he smiled, “Marry me.”

Charlotte’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeated, “and I swear I’ll protect you. That man will never lay a hand on you again.”

At his offer, a faint hope began to blossom in her heart, but Charlotte immediately crushed it. “No, I can’t let you do that. You can’t−”

“That is for me to decide,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. “Your parents demand that you marry him to avoid a scandal, is that not so?”

Swallowing, Charlotte nodded.

“Then marry me instead,” Kenneth said, his warm hands wrapped around her chilled fingers. “If all they care about is to avoid a scandal, then marry me.” Holding her gaze, he nodded. “This is the choice you have: either I go out there and kill that bastard,” the muscles in his jaw tensed, and he swallowed, “or you marry me and give me every right to protect you from him.”

“But−"

“It’s either or,” he interrupted. “And don’t for a moment think that you can talk me out of it.”

Surprised beyond comprehension, Charlotte stared up at him; yet, deep down, she had known that he would be her only hope. She had been so afraid for him to find out, not because she’d feared he wouldn’t believe her, but because she’d known that he would sacrifice himself to save her.

A soft smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “Marry me,” he said once again, and Charlotte wished she had the strength to refuse him.



Do you want to read the next chapter? Do you want to read it now?

Well, if you've answered these two questions with a firm 'yes', then simply hop over to my homepage and sign up for my launch team. It's as simple as that!

A Slightly Different Historical Romance

Maybe the term historical romance is not completely accurate when talking about my books. However, I’ve been having a hard time assigning my new series to a specific category. While my setting is England in the early 19th century (or a variation thereof), I am not one to stick too closely to historical accuracy because, to me, my books are not first and foremost historical novels. I merely set my stories in a historical era like the regency period because it allows my characters to interact in ways that a modern day setting just wouldn’t. However, if need be, I’ll make small changes.

Honestly, in my opinion, the changes I make are of minor importance. However, some readers have disagreed (I suppose these readers do think of a historical romance first and foremost as a historical novel). Sorry about the confusion, everyone!

Then what is it that I put the focus on in my books?

Of course, there is the romance aspect, and, yes, we all want our hero and heroine to ride off into the sunset. We want them to meet, fall in love and live happily ever after. That sounds pretty simple.

However, my books tend to have a psychological angle. Wow, does that sound as dull to you as it does to me? Well, what I’m trying to say is that the rocky road that leads to the desired happily-ever-after is usually not rocky because of some outside interference or obstacle (of course, there are outside influences that need to be dealt with, but they are not the main focus). Instead, my stories focus on the emotional journey (at least) one of the main characters has to undertake in order to find happiness.

With regard to book 3, one reader commented as follows: “Once again, Bree uses psychology to develop the love, devotion and sometimes the evil, in her characters.”

You see, my characters usually have some kind of prejudice, fear or even trauma that they need to overcome in order to love, in order to see that there is someone right in front of them who is their perfect match. They are blind to the truth about themselves as well as others, and only their spouse’s perseverance in winning their heart ultimately saves the day.




In Forgotten & Remembered - The Duke’s Late Wife, Graham is caught in a net of insecurities, believing himself unlovable. In order to protect his heart from disappointment, he shuts himself off from the budding emotions he begins to feel toward his new wife, convinced that she could never truly love him.




In Cursed & Cherished - The Duke’s Wilful Wife, Anna allows herself to be influenced by her best friend’s negative opinion of men in general. Despite her new husband’s touching attempts to win her heart, she simply cannot see that he truly means what he says and does not have a hidden agenda.



In Despised & Desired - The Marquess’ Passionate Wife, Frederick comes home from the war, traumatized by the loss of his friend. Guilt consumes him, and he feels he does not deserve to be loved, to be happy because his friend has lost every chance for happiness.




In Abandoned & Protected - The Marquis’ Tenacious Wife, Henrietta has been traumatized in her early childhood. Her experiences with her parents have made her more than just weary of men (she is the friend who influenced Anna in book 2). Terrified to end up like her mother, she is determined to keep her husband at arm’s length.


As I said, in all of these books (as well as the ones to come), there is a devoted husband or wife, who over time manages to restore their spouse’s beliefs and hopes until they come to love each other the way they were meant to from the beginning. Its a rocky road, but it is well worth it.

So, what category would you assign this series to? Honestly, I cannot find one that’s a perfect fit, and I apologize to all those readers who expected something else from my book because of the category they found it in.

How about psychological romance? However, that leaves out the historical part, and doesn’t psychological have a negative connotation? Like psychological thriller. So, that’s not it. And historical psychological romance is just a mouth-full. Or historical romance with a psychological angle. Oh dear! It’s getting worse. I should stop! Please, if you have any suggestions, email me.

If I didn’t scare you off with my uncoordinated ramblings and you would like to have a look at my new historical romance series yourself, sign up and I’ll email you book 1.

New Release!

3...2...1...Launch!
New Release!
Despised & Desired - The Marquess' Passionate Wife (Book 3) is NOW available!

Launch Day is always exciting. There are butterflies in your belly, little birds circling your head and, unfortunately, also that little lump in the pit of your stomach that can't help but worry if everything is going to turn out all right!

Well, picture me giddy with a side of nervous!

Here a short introduction to book 3:

Ellie and Frederick are among my most favorite characters because of the strength that carries them through the pages.

After all, before they could rise, they had to fall...and they fell far.

Both their lives looked so promising only a short while ago. Ellie was in love and set to be married while Frederick went off on an adventure. Both were walking down a path they had chosen freely, eyes focused on a future they desired. Both unaware of the twists and turns of life.

And then everything fell apart.

While this story is definitely about loss and pain and misery, it is even more so about overcoming the darkest moments of your life and fighting your way back. It is about reclaiming your smile, about opening your heart and about finding that one person who loves you, even knowing your deepest and darkest secrets!

This is a story of courage and strength. A story about the power of love and the rewards of faith. A story that is to inspire us to rise from the ashes of our shattered lives...despite our own doubts and fears!

3...2...1...Launch!

Once more, it is that time of year again...launch day is fast approaching!

On June 22, the third in my Regency Romance series 'Despised & Desired - The Marquess' Passionate Wife' will finally see the light of day!

If this is the first time you've heard of this book, here is a short blurb:

Long ago, he kept her secret.
Now, she will save his soul.

Elsbeth Munford is set to marry the man she loves until an accident destroys her life. Her beauty tainted by ugly scars, Ellie resigns herself to a life of spinsterhood.

Frederick Lancaster, brother to the Marquess of Elmridge, returns home from war. A hero in the eyes of others, he is haunted by nightmares. Unable to make his peace with the past, Frederick retreats into the dark until his brother dies and he not only inherits his title, but with it also the obligation to produce an heir.

When two damaged souls find themselves tied to one another, will they pull each other under? Or will they help each other rise again from the ashes of their shattered lives?

However, to give you an even better idea of the book, I've decided to share a short sneak-peek with you now!



Prologue

England 1794 (or a variation thereof)

Beads of sweat formed on Ellie’s brow and ran down her temples. Trying to shield her face from the scorching sun, she pulled her bonnet deeper into her face. Ellie knew she ought not to be here, and yet, she could not help herself.

The rising heat of this year’s unusually hot summer had her escape the earl’s garden party in search of a little refreshment.

Excitement had seized her when she had heard other children whisper about the small brook that snaked its way through the forest to the south of the manor. However, uncertain whether or not to dare go against her mother’s rather stern instructions of proper conduct, Ellie had waited until the very last moment before she was sure she would melt away. Only then had she dared sneak away.

Now, following in its general direction, Ellie soon heard the soft babbling of the small brook as it fought the sun for its continued existence.

Stepping over large boulders and wading through a sea of long-stemmed grass, Ellie glimpsed the brook’s shiny surface, glistening in the sun like an oasis in a desert. Hurrying her step, she hastened toward it at the very moment it seemed to beckon her closer.

A smile spread over her face as she beheld the cool water before her feet. Kneeling down, Ellie reached out a hand, and a soft moan escaped her lips when the fresh water touched her heated skin. For a moment, she closed her eyes, feeling a slight chill run from her submerged hand up her arm. It felt wonderful!

Opening her eyes, Ellie scanned her surroundings and found a cluster of trees a little farther down the stream providing ample shade. Reluctantly withdrawing her hand from the cooling brook, she strode through the grass and then sank down under the trees’ large canopy. She removed her bonnet and leaned forward, hand searching for the refreshing wet. Collecting a little water in her cupped hand, she brushed it across her arms, enjoying the tingle that ran through her. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

Eyeing her shoes and stockinged feet with a hint of disgust, Ellie took a deep breath. She really ought not to. Even at twelve years old, Elsbeth Munsford was very much aware that a lady ought not to remove her clothing in public.

Glancing around, Ellie frowned. What public?

A mischievous smile spread over her face as her nimble fingers worked to loosen her shoes. When they came off, her stockings quickly followed, and Ellie delighted at the feeling of soft grass under her bare feet. Then she glanced at the water and wiggled her toes.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed all thoughts of her mother away and rose to her feet. After making sure that she was, indeed, alone, Ellie slowly pulled up the hem of her dress, revealing her ankles. Grinning from ear to ear, she bit her lower lip in excitement and then stepped toward the brook.

As the cooling water rushed over her skin, Ellie sighed with delight, wiggling her toes and digging them into the muddy stream bed. For a moment, she closed her eyes, savouring the moment until she realised it still wasn’t enough.

The coolness barely spread to her knees, let alone chase away the beads of sweat still popping up on her forehead.

Lifting up her skirts to just above her knees, Ellie revealed a small birthmark that resembled a bird taking flight. Although her mother had always considered it an oddity, relieved it was in a place covered by clothes, Ellie had always felt special because of it, wishing that she, too, could simply spread her wings and fly.

Sighing, Ellie waded deeper into the stream. When the water swirled around her calves, she finally felt its cooling effect spread into every part of her body. Welcoming the slight chill chasing away the hot air resting on her skin, Ellie once more closed her eyes.

Lost in a moment of pure pleasure, Ellie did not hear them coming.

Only when they broke through the underbrush, their boots snapping dry twigs as they went, did Ellie’s eyes snap open.

Instantly, shock froze her limbs, and she stared at the three young men standing but a few feet from the water’s edge.

In that moment, Ellie was too stunned to observe anything else but the cold that slowly spread through her body, bringing with it an old fear. What would her mother say?

Then, she swallowed, and her eyes travelled from the tall, dark-haired youth, who−as her mother had informed her−went by the name of Frederick Lancaster, second son to the Marquess of Elmridge, to the two others standing to his left and right, Oliver Cornell and Kenneth Moreton. While Frederick bore an expression that did not betray his thoughts, his friends looked rather surprised to find her in the stream, the corners of their mouths slowly drawing up into a smile, clearly showing their amusement.

Tears began to form in Ellie’s eyes as she slowly backed away toward the other side of the brook.

As though in trance, their eyes followed her until Frederick turned to his friends. “Go back,” he ordered them. “Speak of this to no one.”

For a second, Oliver seemed ready to argue, but Kenneth grabbed his arm and pulled him back through the underbrush.

Frederick, however, remained behind.

Crossing the stream in a shallower spot, he came toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. When he reached her side, he held out a hand, offering to help her out of the stream.

Uncertain what to do, Ellie looked from his hand to his face.

“Do not be afraid,” he spoke. “I mean you no harm.”

His dark blue eyes shone as clear as the water still swirling around her legs, and her heart beat slowed. Swallowing, Ellie took his hand, surprised at how hot his skin felt compared to her own, which at this point was rather chilled. A shiver went through her, and he pulled her out of the water.

He smiled at her. “You should put your shoes back on.”

Ellie blushed and then hurried back to the shady spot where she had left them. Sitting down, she noted that he stood with his back to her, giving her privacy, and she quickly pulled her stockings over her legs and slipped on her shoes.

Then she stood up, not knowing what to say.

“Are you properly attired?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ellie breathed, wondering if he judged her as she knew her mother would as soon as she learnt of this.

He turned around then, a friendly smile on his face. “Allow me to escort you back.”

Ellie took a deep breath before closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, he stood before her, and she shrank back.

Seeing the fear on her face, he instantly retreated a step. “I apologise. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you seemed troubled. Are you injured?”

Ellie shook her head. “Please leave,” she whispered, her voice pleading.

He frowned at her. “I cannot leave you alone. Who knows who else might be in these woods?”

Never having contemplated the possibility that a threat might be looming near, Ellie glanced at the tree line in his back. Was he right? Was there danger out there?

“If you are worried about being seen with me,” he said, trying to catch her eyes, “I assure you I have no intention of compromising you in any way. I merely suggest that I escort you as far as the gardens. From there, you can make your way back on your own. I will stay back and assure that no harm comes to you.” His deep blue eyes looked into hers, and he spoke with a sincerity beyond his years. “No one will know.”

“What about your friends?” she asked, twirling her bonnet in her hands.

He shook his head. “They will not say a word,” he assured her.

Ellie took a relieved breath, and a shy smile came to her lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, returning her smile. Then he stepped back, gesturing at the path ahead. “Shall we?”

Ellie nodded and fell into step beside him. Brushing her blond curls back, she fastened her bonnet, keeping the sun out of her eyes.

He glanced down at her. “May I ask your name?”

“Ellie,” she whispered and met his eyes, feeling a warmth spread to her cheeks that she could not blame on the sun.

He smiled. “I’m Rick.”

For a long time, they walked in silence, a silence that felt comfortable as though they had known each other for a long time.

When the hedges of the estate’s garden finally came in sight, Ellie whispered, “Will you tell my mother?”

He shook his head, and relief flooded her body. “I would not dare bring any harm upon you,” he said looking down at her.

Again, Ellie felt herself blush. “Thank you.”

“She is highly critical of you, is she not?”

Ellie nodded. “She counts my faults on a daily basis.”

Rick smiled. “That shouldn’t take her long.” As they stopped by the long hedge, running along the gardens, his eyes shifted to hers. “I cannot find a single one.”

Again, Ellie felt herself blush and quickly averted her eyes.

“You should go,” he said, “before anyone sees us together.”

Nodding, Ellie smiled at him, then turned and headed back toward the noise of the garden party. Although she was tempted, she did not dare turn around to see if he was still there. Even if she could not see him, she still felt his eyes on her, watching over her safe return.

Frederick Lancaster, she mused. He would be a wonderful man one day. Ellie was sure of it. After all, he had saved her from her mother’s wrath, and in her world, there was no greater or more heroic deed than that.


If you care to find out what will happen with Ellie and Rick, you can pre-order the book at your favorite retailer.

What makes a great book?

While I do not deny that past times hold a certain allure, for me, it is the people who lived then that fascinate me. Who were they? Were they happy? Did they love? What are their stories?

Since we will never know enough to truly paint a picture of who someone was deep inside (what motivated them? what broke their heart? what made them laugh?) historical fiction is a wonderful genre that makes you think about all the many possibilities.

What would happen if...? What would their story be?

Trying to find an answer, our imagination bonds with historical facts, creating a unique variation of times past.

After all, at the end of the day, we all want a great book to settle down with. The 'only' thing we disagree on is what makes a great book.

Since we would probably argue about this until the end of time, let me just tell you what to expect from mine.

What you will NOT find

- are detailed descriptions of clothes, furniture, animals and such unless they have significant importance
- is complete historical accuracy

Basically, I omit in my writing what I do not care for as a reader. I am the kind of reader who is irritated by page-long descriptions. In order to picture the scene in my mind, I usually don't need those, and to me, they merely delay the action. What can I say? It's a pet peeve!

What you WILL find

- are deep and honest emotions (even the ones we rarely admit to)
- are real people, who stand together no matter what, who conquer their greatest fear to save a loved one, who seem as real today as they did then
- is that the story takes precedence over historical accuracy

Let me be clear: I am not saying I completely ignore historical facts. Not at all. I always strive to capture the flair of the times I write about. However, I occasionally bend the rules a little to allow my characters to experience something that would otherwise be denied to them.

For example, if I need my characters to waltz, then does it truly matter if the waltz was only introduced to English society a few years later?

To me, it doesn't. After all, it is about the opportunities it creates. However, if it matters to you, then allow me to offer some friendly advice: do not read my books for you will only be disappointed.

This post is partly meant as a guide to help potential readers decide if my books would suit them, and partly as a means to satisfy my curiosity for I would love to know what you think about this. What makes a great book for you? What do you need to get completely absorbed into a story? What brings the characters to life for you?

The Wrong Brother

The Wrong Brother – A Regency Novella

When I set out to writing a novella, I wasn’t sure I could do it. Fitting a whole story onto meager 30,000 words? That seemed impossible.

However, sometimes stories are not meant to be stretched to fit the regular length of a novel. ‘The Wrong Brother’ struck me as one such story, and so I decided to give it a shot.

Although my own insecurities and doubts would probably have stopped me at some point while writing the first draft, my wonderful readers kept me going.

As mentioned in my last post, I posted my chapters online available to all those on my mailing list, and to my great delight, I received wonderful feedback. Not only were some of those pesky errors spotted that authors are prone to overlook, but inspirational suggestions and honest critique turned the story into something worth reading.

Thank you so much for joining me on this exciting, while slightly terrifying journey! I had a wonderful time, and I am actually looking forward to writing the next novella!

If you want to find out whether or not we did a good job, a Goodreads giveaway for ‘The Wrong Brother’ is scheduled April 2 to April 11. Let me know what you think!

Come and Write/Read a Book with me!

Mostly writing a book seems like a one-person job, and in many ways it certainly is. However, early feedback and criticism (the good and the bad kind) not only influence the turns and twists a story can take, but also help uncover the depth of the characters involved.

Therefore, I have decided to embark on a new project and I am inviting all of you to join me.

I want to try and write a novella. I’m using the word ‘try’ here because I tend to ramble on. Very often my first drafts are quite lengthy, and I always have trouble shortening them. So, this is the ultimate challenge: fit a story within the pre-set word limit of 30,000 (more or less). To make matters worse, I have already set the publication date to April 29 (this year!). A little pressure always manages to do the trick, doesn't it?

As I start writing, I will make my drafts available to the readers, book enthusiasts and bibliophiles on my mailing list. Please, feel free to comment. Help me polish this story to make it shine.

To give you a little idea of the story I will be working on, here a short blurb (FYI it’s a regency novella):

"Despite her parents’ deep love for one another, Isabella Carrington has always favoured her mind over her heart. Meeting Charles Dashwood, she quickly decides that he is the one for her. After all, he has all the qualities she appreciates in a man; he is kind, honest and dependable.

At least until her wedding day, when Isabella suddenly desires someone entirely different, or doesn't she?

In the very moment, Isabella whispers her ‘I do’, her eyes catch the glimpse of another man. A man whose eyes look unnervingly familiar, and yet stir a longing within her heart and soul she has never known.

Just as she gives her hand to Charles Dashwood, her heart is stolen by none other than her husband’s notorious twin, Robert.

But when mind and heart do not go hand in hand, can there be a happily ever after?"

Starting next weekend, I will begin uploading my drafts chapter by chapter. So sign up for my mailing list and I’ll provide you with a password to access the site.

This ought to be fun (I hope)!