Sweet Saturday

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Welcome back! Last week Amelia left her Giles, her trusty footman, waiting for her at the front entrance to the milliner's shop while she scooted out the side door. Read on to find out why Amelia was so secretive about her errand:

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Phineas Culpepper looked up from his ledger at Amelia's entrance. "Prompt, as always, Lady Amelia."

"Of course, Mr. Culpepper. I've brought the edited manuscript, as you requested." Reaching in her borrowed satchel, she removed the bulky package and handed it to the editor. "I trust the revisions I've made will be suitable for your markets."

"I'm sure they will be. You're an excellent writer, as I'm sure you've been told."

She hadn't been told that. No one but Mr. Culpepper knew of her double life, but that was all right with her. She was able to get much more fodder for her stories when people didn't think their dirty laundry would be featured in a book.

Mr. Culpepper opened his desk, pulled out a thick envelope, and handed it to her. "Here are your earnings for the past month. Your romance stories are so popular I have my printer working six days a week now."

Amelia took the envelope and hefted it to gauge its weight. Her eyebrows rose and she drew a quick inward breath. "I had no idea my stories were this successful."

Mr. Culpepper chuckled. "Thanks to you, I may be soon able to move my operations to a more respectable area of the city." He paused and studied her over the rim of his spectacles. "You did bring someone with you this time, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes," she reassured him. "He is waiting for me at the door."

She wasn't actually lying, she told herself. Giles truly was waiting for her at the door. Just not at the door to Culpepper and Winston.

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The Partridge and the Peartree is now on Amazon's best-seller list in Regency Romance! Check it out at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, and of course, at Astraea Press. 

Sweet Saturday

Welcome! This week I debated whether to continue with my excerpts from The Partridge and the Peartree or share a bit of The Samurai's Garden, which was released this week. Presently, I'm making the rounds of author blogs to promote the samurai book. I've visited the virtual homes of Nancy Gideon, SG Rogers, and Catherine Bennett (click on their names to see the posts on their blogs), so I decided that since Samurai has gotten a lot of attention this week, I'd share a bit more of Partridge. After all, it's a Christmas story and we'll probably wrap up the Sweet Saturdays in another few weeks. So here is the continuation of last week's scene, in which Lady Amelia figures out a way to get rid of her curious footman:

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She took a circular route, hoping to lull her companion into thinking she was merely out for a stroll. Pausing at a popular milliner's, she made a show of looking in the window then turned to the young footman.

"I think I'll go in here for a while. I need a new hat. I'll take the satchel now. You may wait for me out here."

Giles bowed his acquiescence and handed the satchel to her. She hoped he wouldn't question her need for a satchel in the milliner's shop, and like a good servant, he didn't. At least not aloud.

She carried the satchel into the shop. Madame LeFevre, the proprietor, rose to greet her potential customer.

"Bon jour, mademoiselle."

"Bon jour, Madame LeFevre. I wish to place an order for a hat. Er, something to go with my new winter cloak."

"Oui, mademoiselle. Ze new cloak, it is in your bag?"

"My bag? Oh, no. I, er, forgot to bring it along. But it's... blue."

"Blue is an excellent color for you, mademoiselle. What shade of blue?"

"Ah, it's…a deep blue. Rather like—" She cast a quick glance around the shop, and her eyes caught a bright, peacock blue felt hat. "That one."

Madame blinked, obviously swallowing her distaste. "Oui, mademoiselle. Ze entire cloak is that color?"

"Perhaps I should return another day and bring the cloak with me. Forgive me for wasting your time this morning. I'll just get going." She strode toward the back of the shop.

"Er, mademoiselle? Ze door is this way."

"Yes, but my next errand is on the street behind your shop. If you don't mind, I'll just use your side entrance to get there more quickly. Thank you for your time." She scooted out the door, mindful of the lady's stare. She probably wouldn't be back, at least not this season. But she'd accomplished her goal and left Giles waiting at the front entrance. Hopefully, by the time he realized her duplicity, she'd have her errand completed.

The side entrance of the shop emptied on a quiet street. No traffic here, and Amelia cast a cautious look about her before proceeding. She had an important errand, and nothing was to be gained by dawdling.

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Thanks for stopping by! Please leave a comment, and be sure to enjoy the excerpts offered by other fine authors by going to Sweet Saturday Samples. 

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! I am so pleased to announce that The Partridge and the Peartree was released a day early at Astraea Press! You can find it at the Astraea Press website, or (by the time you read this) at your favorite ebook distributor.

Amelia Partridge is a very independent woman. Unfortunately, the regency period in London didn't encourage women to be independent. Amelia tries to escape the constraints placed on her by sneaking out, as described in this excerpt:

Amelia settled her bonnet over her curls and reached for her gloves. She didn't call for Jeanne. Getting herself dressed for an outing, especially when the weather outside was sunny and relatively warm, wasn't that difficult. It had always seemed a waste of time to wait for servants to assist her with tasks she was perfectly capable of doing on her own. Besides, if Jeanne knew she was going out, the rest of the household would find out, and she didn't want everyone knowing about her excursion.

She had almost reached the gate at the street when a dreaded voice from the house halted her.

"Lady Amelia!"

She froze. Marks, the butler, was a stickler for convention. As a woman — especially an unmarried woman — she shouldn't leave the house unattended. But a companion would slow her down and make it more difficult to go and do as she wished.

"Lady Amelia, Giles is ready to accompany you. Kindly wait a moment." He didn't have to add a reprimand, though displeasure was evident in his voice. There would be a dressing down later on, from her brother.

Seconds later, the gangly young footman rounded the house from the servants' entrance, hastily adjusting his hat as he ran. He skidded to a stop a respectful three paces from Amelia and bowed respectfully.

"Apologies, my lady, for keeping you waiting."

Amelia suppressed a sigh and resumed her walk toward the street.

"Lady Amelia, please allow me to carry your satchel for you."

She paused. The satchel wasn't especially heavy, but it was large and awkward.

"Thank you, Giles," she said as she handed the bag to him. "But you must let me take it myself into the, er, establishment where we are going."

The young man frowned but nodded.

Amelia led the way, plotting as she went. Though she usually took time to observe the changing of the seasons, today her mind focused on one thing: how to get rid of Giles.

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Phillip Peartree, Duke of Bartlett, dreamed of a peaceful life with a suitable mate until a hunting accident left him scarred and nearly deaf.  Resigned to spending the rest of his days alone, Phillip has devoted himself to rebuilding his family estate.  But, a chance encounter with a lovely young woman in a dusty bookstore rekindles his almost-forgotten hopes and dreams.

Lady Amelia Partridge has no time for the frivolity of the London social scene. She is much too busy.  In addition to her work with the Ladies Literary Society, she has a mission – educating poor children in the city. She also has a secret life, one she fears might drive away the young duke who has become increasingly important to her.

Get your copy of The Partridge and the Peartree today! 

Sweet Saturday

Welcome back! As much as I love autumn colors and temperatures, the writing world has already been working feverishly to prepare for the holiday season. The Partridge and the Peartree is part of the Christmas Regency series coming out soon at Astraea Press. Here, Lady Amelia Partridge is attending a recital given by the daughters of a friend:

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The dance concluded, and the audience applauded politely. Desiree announced a short intermission, and the guests rose to chat and partake of the sumptuous refreshments spread on the banquet tables. Amelia wasn't particularly hungry or thirsty, but she rose, needing to stand and use her legs. As much as she loved writing, it caused her to sit for long periods of time. She didn't enjoy the small talk – it bored her. But she put on her public face, for her friend’s sake. If nothing else, perhaps she could get some fodder for her next book.

"Excuse me, miss."

She spun around, and her eyes locked with the same mesmerizing gaze from the bookstore. He seemed even taller than he had that afternoon, and in his formal dress he looked quite dashing. "Yes?"

"I believe you dropped this." He held out a satin scarf. She'd forgotten she'd removed it during the recital.

"Thank you, sir. Once again, you've come to my aid, saving me from my clumsiness."

"I was in the way. I should know better than to stand in one spot in the bookstore."

Amelia put a finger to her lips. "Shh. My brother doesn't approve of me frequenting that shop. It's not in a fashionable area of town."

He nodded. "I understand. Incident forgotten."

Desiree, ever the hostess, appeared suddenly. "Phillip, I see you've met my dear friend, Lady Amelia Partridge. Amelia, this is my brother, the Duke of Bartlett."

Phillip bowed deeply. "How do you, do, Lady Amelia?"

Amelia curtseyed. "I'm honored to meet you, Your Grace."

"I am surprised we haven't met before. Have you and my sister been friends for a long time?"

Desiree chuckled and touched his arm, causing him to turn his attention back to her. "How diplomatic, Phillip. You can see Amelia is closer to Laurel's age than mine. Amelia is a fellow member of the Ladies' Literary Society, and she's been a boon to us. She has a way with words, and has written our newsletter and other promotional tracts for our organization."

Phillip turned back to Amelia. "Very impressive, Lady Amelia. The Literary Society is one of my sister's passions, and anyone who forwards their cause is a treasure."

Amelia felt her face warm, and she scolded herself. She was normally immune to flattery, but the duke's praise made her feel almost giddy. Why was she acting like a silly lovesick schoolgirl? She held herself regally and just managed to keep her voice from rising to a giggly pitch. "Thank you. I am honored to be associated with such a worthy cause."

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Thanks for stopping by! Several other great authors are sharing excerpts from their books as well. Just go to Sweet Saturday Samples for their links.

But before you go, let me know what you think of this sample! If you like it, please look for The Partridge and the Peartree starting next Friday, November 2, at Astraea Press, as well as several other ebook distributors! I'll have the links here next week. In the meantime, please enjoy the cover above, designed by the fabulous Elaina Lee.

Sweet Saturday

Welcome! Last week I introduced you to the Phillip, the hero of my new regency romance, The Partridge and the Peartree, scheduled for release on November 2. (If you missed it, you can read it here.) Today I'd like you to meet the heroine:

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Lady Amelia Partridge paused outside the bookstore to put her new purchases into a leather satchel she'd borrowed from her brother. Edward hadn't known about the loan, of course. But he was off on one of his hunting trips with his friends. She supposed she looked silly, carrying it about; however, the books wouldn't fit in her reticule, and she didn't want all of London to know about her reading selections. The books were for some special children in her life, but she didn’t want to explain to her friends if they should happen to see her.

She handed the satchel to Giles, her young footman, and led the way back to the high street, where she had arranged to meet her coach near the park. From there, she rode in comfort back to her brother's home.

It had been her home, too, for the past twenty-three years. But now she was going to have to find another place to live. Despite the forty-odd rooms in Sudbury House, there was not enough space for two women. At least, not when one of the women was her brother's fiancée, Colette.

Her brother Edward, Earl of Sudbury, had suggested she marry. But she absolutely couldn't bind herself to some fop who thought of no one but himself, or worse, one who dictated her every move. She led her own life and didn't want someone else telling her what to do, the way her father had run her mother's life. The poor woman hadn't had a moment to herself until the day she died. It was a lesson well learned.

Edward would give her an allowance, of course, and he'd offered to let her have the cottage in Oxfordshire. But she would need more than what he’d be able to give her, especially if Collette had anything to say about it. Besides, the cottage was far away from her friends. Recently, she’d had some success writing books, keeping her identity hidden by using a pen name for the books she wrote. If she lived frugally, perhaps she’d be able to support herself, especially if Edward would help her purchase a small home in London.

Her impending move had been in her thoughts when she had run into the man in the bookshop. He'd looked familiar, but since she avoided most social events, she had no idea who he was. The gentleman's face had been kind, full of character and compassion. The scars on his left cheek did nothing to detract from his looks, and his deep blue eyes had shone with intelligence. He'd been standing in the philosophy section, perusing the titles on a high shelf when she'd bumped into him. She'd apologized, but he hadn't responded. Instead, he'd simply picked up her books and handed them back to her. Perhaps he hadn't wanted anyone to know he was there, either.

Arriving at the townhouse, she instructed Giles to take the satchel to her sitting room. She would have two or three hours to herself before dinner, and then she would have to get dressed to go out again. Tonight was the Linden daughters' recital, and though she preferred to stay at home, she felt obligated to attend. Desiree, the girls' mother, had become a good friend through the Ladies' Literary Society, and both Laurel and Merilee had become dear to her.

Perhaps, if she could shut out enough of the music, she could plot out her next novel in her head. She had a good memory and could write down the details when she got home.

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