Does History Ever Really Repeat Itself? Guest Post by @LaynaPimentel #historical #romance
Guest Post by Layna Pimentel
Of course, it does. History is consistently inspiring: movies, television productions, novels, and music as we speak.
There have been movies capturing the private lives of former political entities, novels inspired by kings and queens. And then you have musical groups like the Medieval Baebes, who offer their own take on renaissance songs. They’re quite brilliant; you should check them out!
My fascination with history and it’s most infamous romances began—I think—the first time I ever watched Pride and Prejudice on A & E. From there, if there was a movie on television that remotely took place in the regency era, or even during the French revolution, I recorded it on VHS. I would then watch it repeatedly, until the cassette died. Nuts? Yes. Obsessive? You think!
I suppose when the time came, and I started writing the Pleasure Garden Follies trilogy, things fell into place naturally. I was content, and so were my characters. I love a good intrigue, and was sure to add my very own dose scandal in each book.
Between lost loves, arranged marriages, and highly sensual moments, capturing a time that isn’t all too different from these modern times was fun.
Here’s an excerpt from the first book Scandal at Vauxhall:
“What haven’t I heard?” she asked. Her breath hitched and her pulse raced. What could I have missed?
“Come away with me to the terrace. I wish to speak to you in private. We can’t have half of London listening in.”
She followed Lady Coxley outdoors, leaving behind the sounds of merriment to be embraced by the shrouded darkness of night and silence.
“They say the marquess will not marry until he’s found her.”
“Until he’s found who?”
“The one who broke his heart. But in all honesty, everyone knows it’s you. With any luck, perchance some horrible fate will happen upon Henry.”
If I were only so lucky. “You shouldn’t talk like that! And for the record, the marquess and I were done long ago. Remember, he’s the one who left me.”
“Isabel, you cannot expect me to believe that you haven’t thought about that man—at least once or ever—during the course of this sham of a marriage of yours. The haute ton in its entirety knows where he is right now. And you’d be a fool to think Henry gives two ninnies about your welfare.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted them.
“Excuse me, ladies, but I was wondering if perchance I could steal Her Grace for a dance.”
Good grief. Did he hear any of our discussion? I cannot believe he’s actually here. Heat coursed through Isabel at the thought of holding him once again. She nodded and held out her gloved palm for him to take. “I’d be honored, My Lord.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.”
Leaving behind Lady Coxley, she followed his lead inside for a waltz.
“It’s been too long, Isabel. I’ve missed you terribly,” he whispered as they took a turn about the dance floor. Nathaniel bowed and took her hand. His touch warmed her, and the gentle squeeze that followed reassured her that the flame they once had was still there.
She and Henry hadn’t danced since their wedding and even then, he quickly discarded her to dance with the Duchess of Downsbury. If she’d only known her dismissal that evening would be the first of many others. For the most part, her husband had two left feet, but Nathaniel whisked her away gracefully to the tune. She wished to kiss him again and remind herself of their time together. Good heavens, Isabel. You’re married. Enough of this foolishness!
Isabel felt him pulling her closer as his arm at the small of her back pushed her in. His head dipped down, and, naturally, she looked up at him, ignoring every stare and whisper as they moved together. She finally cringed and mustered the courage to ask him the one thing weighing heavily on her mind. “Why did you take so long? Why didn’t you come sooner? Nathaniel, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you.”
As the music wound down and the dancers departed, Isabel locked her eyes on his and felt a tear escape. “You’ve been missed greatly, My Lord.”
His thumb swiped away the drop. “My dear, there hasn’t been a day, hour, or dream you haven’t occupied.”
Her chest tightened with his admission. Could he have really wanted me all this time?
“Nathan—”
AVAILABLE FROM:
Secret Cravings Publishing, Amazon, ARe, Barnes & Noble, Bookstrand, Smashwords
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. When she isn’t devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys losing herself in researching ancient history and mythology, weaponry, and hiking. She lives in Northern Ontario, with her husband and two daughters.
Layna is a member of the Romance Writers of America, and is a monthly contributor at 69 Shades of Smut. For updates on her upcoming releases, or to leave her a comment, you can find at:
Blog: laynap.wordpress.com & hawtreads.wordpress.com
Website: www.laynapimentel.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/LaynaPimentel
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorLaynaPimentel
