The beginning of a war, the ending of a marriage? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Perilous Love Jan SelbournePerilous Love
Blurb:
Adrian Bryce’s world of wealth and beautiful women comes to an end when he’s ordered to accompany his estranged wife to Belgium. The British government want proof Gabrielle’s uncle is supporting the German Empire. What Adrian discovers will plunge him and Gabrielle into a nightmare of betrayal, forcing them to run for their lives as the Germans cross the border. Facing danger, brutality and injury, and painful truths about themselves, they reach safety as two different people. Waiting for them are charges of treason and a woman who’ll stop at nothing to see Adrian dead.

Buy links:
Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
Goodreads

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt:
  “What was she like?”

“What are you talking about?” He scowled, dreading what was coming.

“Sigrid, Maryanne, whatever her name was,” she snapped back.

“What the hell are you trying to do, Gaby?  Force an argument?”

“No, I’m not forcing an argument.  I really want to know!  You preferred that woman’s company to mine and your children’s and, because of her and my uncle and your unbelievable stupidity, two innocent people have died, and we are forced to rely on each other to stay alive.  Are you proud of yourself?  And was her beauty and obvious bedroom expertise worth all of this?”

Adrian clenched his jaw and turned his head away.

“I’m waiting,” she persisted.  “I presume you also showered her with gifts and expensive baubles while we would be lucky to see you on our birthdays.”

Something snapped inside him.  His face was tight with fury as he turned back to face her.  “If I could get up and walk away, I would.  Just what are you trying to achieve?  We’ve avoided capture by the skin of our teeth, we have no idea how to get away, the Germans are pouring into Belgium, thousands will be killed, and you want to know if I showered her with gifts.  Why don’t we concentrate on getting out of here and then you will be free of me?  Now, for Christ’s sake, leave it alone.”

“You want to get up and walk away?” her voice dripped scorn. “Did I walk away from that lonely, empty life, in that big, lonely house?  Making excuses to your children, visiting neighbours on my own.  Did I show such contempt for my marriage vows?”

“You forgot to mention entertaining Charlton in my home,” he snarled, and then flinched as Gabrielle’s hand slapped his face.

“Yes, your home.”  she yelled.  “I may have lived there and given birth to your children there, but it was always your home.  I pray to God we will return to England and you can enjoy your home with your expensive, treacherous harlots!”  Her hands clenched into fists.  “Yes! Brian did share my bed.   You were never there; you couldn’t care less about me or our children.  You were so besotted with that German harlot’s devious charms you had no idea what was going on.  She was exceptionally clever, and you were exceptionally stupid.”

Adrian rubbed his cheek and pointed his finger at her.  “If you hit me again, you will be sorry.  You want to know what she was like.  I’ll tell you… She had long wavy auburn hair, a figure that made men’s eyes water and, yes, she had expertise in the bedroom.  She could drink me under the table, and she could discuss politics like a man.  She was exceptionally clever and, yes, you are right, I was exceptionally stupid, because I hadn’t a clue she was German or she’d bedded a cabinet minister or she’d been on other assignments for your uncle. I hope I’ve answered all your questions and I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not, but I’m bloody ashamed of myself.  And I hope to God we’ll get back to England, so you can do whatever you want, and I won’t have to listen to your harping sarcastic tongue.  Are you happy now?”

“Oh yes, very happy, thank you.  Who wouldn’t be, sitting with you on the damp ground beside a canal without food or clean clothes,” her eyes glittered with contempt. “How does it feel that you, a cabinet minister and my uncle shared her?  I wonder if she kept an inventory of her jewellery and gifts to remember who gave her what.”

He pulled his feet from the water and stood up.  “I’m not listening to your ranting anymore, nor am I waiting here for them to find me.”

“You can’t face the truth, can you?” she shouted at him.  “Well, unpleasant as it is, you need me and I need you to survive. When we reach safety, you can go back to the life you enjoyed with your sophisticated women without the inconvenience of an unwanted wife.  And if we get out of here, I don’t want anything from you.  Not even a Christmas card.”  Her lip curled.  “A gentleman never breaks a business contract, but it’s of no consequence to break your marriage vows.”

Adrian reached down and roughly pulled her up to face him, his eyes black with fury. “I can’t face the truth?  It’s a pity you didn’t meet and marry that useless fop Charlton eight years ago, because he’d have been the target for your sainted uncle’s lunacy instead of me!  Christ, you haven’t shut up about your miserable marriage, but look where it’s got me!  Stitched up like a bloody weaver’s loom, set up as a traitor, hiding like a fugitive.  And why?  Because I had the temerity to marry you!”  He turned his back and hobbled over to the grazing horse.  “I’m leaving; are you coming with me or staying here?”

Gabrielle’s face mirrored the shock she felt at Adrian’s words.  Her foot lashed out sending a small log into the water and she walked up to Adrian, her fists clenched, then without warning she burst into tears. “I have no choice.” Her voice was raw with emotion. “All I want is to get out of Belgium and go back to my children and never see you again!”

Adrian gripped her arms, his fingers digging into her flesh.  “You’ll get your bloody freedom one way or the other.  If we get out of this, I’ll gladly give it.  If I’m shot, you can play the grieving widow for a day or two.  Now shut up and help me get this horse into the shafts.”

He heaved himself into the driving seat, knowing damn well they were suffering reaction to what they’d witnessed. His insides were ripped apart enough without her rubbing his face in it. How could he have been so bloody naïve? His mistress had wheedled far too much information out of him and a senior government minister named Edmund. Good God! Sir Edmund Charters! Close to the PM and related to the Foreign Minister. The old fool must be seventy, and you Bryce, are the biggest fool of all.

About Jan:
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.

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A spy in the making? #MFRWHooks

This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Perilous Love by Jan SelbournePerilous Love
Blurb
Europe is on the brink of the First World War. Gabrielle and Adrian, their marriage on the rocks, are thrust into a world of territory lies and deceit. Not knowing who to trust, they find themselves fleeing for their lives across war torn Europe, the brutal German forces are hot on their heels, determined not to let them escape. Adrian is between the devil and the deep blue sea as he’s accused of treason and doesn’t know what awaits him back in England. All he does know is he must reunite his family safely back in England. Will this mend their broken marriage or tear them apart forever? The odds are stacked against their survival. Will they have what it takes to overcome obstacles?

Buy Links
Amazon
B&N
Goodreads

MFRW Book HooksExcerpt
Adrian Bryce nodded to the doorman of Number 2, Whitehall Court, Westminster and walked briskly towards the waiting car.  While not handsome in the classical sense, his immaculate attire, bearing and manner was one of wealth, authority and confidence.  He was a man who gives orders, never receives them.  His dark eyes set in an angular face barely concealed his anger and worry.  He knew, along with everyone else with a brain, that war was looming in Europe.  Since the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, rumours and intrigue and political double talk had been flying through Britain and the Continent.

Now, because of his family connections in Europe, he’d been ordered to accompany his wife and children on their annual visit to her stifling Belgian relatives who’d never emerged from the Victorian era.  It did not matter to the men at Whitehall Court that he and his plain boring wife of eight years, the mother of his plain, boring children, had lived separate lives for five years.  His wife was related to aristocratic families both here and in Europe and had been introduced to him at a diplomatic reception and as both were expected to marry well, he thought it a good match at the time.  However, their honeymoon proved they had nothing in common except for them to do their duty and produce children.  For the last five years they’d rarely spent time together except for the annual Christmas rituals and the children’s birthdays.  He preferred his townhouse in London, she and the children lived at their country home in Kent.

As the car turned in the direction of the small elegant lodgings in Bruton Street, his mind and body were anticipating what would be waiting for him.  Beautiful, voluptuous, passionate, pleasing Maryanne, Christ he was becoming hard thinking about her.  He couldn’t wait to push his head between her magnificent breasts and soak in her body.  He’d enjoyed the charms of several women but never before had he experienced anything like the heat and passion that Maryanne gave.  She was expensive, but she was worth every penny he spent on her.

Stepping out of the car, he told the driver not to wait, opened the ornate door and strode up the thickly carpeted staircase and into the beautifully furnished rooms.

‘Adrian, my darling,’ she put out her hands to him. ‘You have kept me waiting, you dreadful man.’  The beautiful, auburn haired woman pouted playfully then smiled, highlighting her high cheekbones and tawny eyes.  Her husky accent inflamed his lust even more and he pulled her to him.  She mouthed ‘wait’, dropped her loose robe to the floor, and then her warm breath was against his ear.

‘Darling, I cannot wait a minute longer.’ Taking his hand, she led him to the adjoining bedroom.  Neither wanted foreplay, both desperately wanted release and it came quickly.  Collapsing on the pillows, they smiled at each other.

‘Why do you keep me waiting?’ she tickled his chest.  ‘Your note tells me one time and you arrive at another.  Is there another woman you prefer to me?’

‘I wouldn’t have the strength,’ he chuckled.  ‘I was delayed at a rather important meeting.  I’m now obliged to travel to Brussels, my sweet.  Will you miss me?’

‘Brussels?  Why must you go away?’ She stroked his cheek.  ‘I will be alone and so hot thinking of you.’

‘Family duty.  I must accompany my wife to visit her relatives.’  He wanted to tell her more.  She was intelligent and her conversation refreshingly different from the polished, elegant, brittle women of his class. But he couldn’t, the real reason was classified.  He shrugged.  ‘Some of my investments in Belgium and France need my personal attention.’

‘You have so many investments.  You will be away from me forever,’ she sulked.

‘I know what I’ll be thinking of while I’m away.  Tell me where you were born. France or Belgium?’

‘On the border, I do not have happy memories.  I have told you all this, my papa was German.  He lost all his money and disappeared.  My mother struggled to feed and clothe us. Not one of his horrible family cared about us.  I hated them all,’ she pushed his fingers into her moist folds.  ‘Why are you accompanying your wife?  You never accompany her anywhere.  Don’t you love me anymore?’

He watched her eyes glaze with pleasure as his fingers pushed deeper into her wetness.  His lips touched her nipples and he felt her hips grinding against him.  Then she cried out and clutched at him as her body shuddered with its shattering climax.

Mon Dieu, je vous adore,’ she whispered and moved down his body to his painfully swollen organ.  Her lips enclosed him, her tongue drove him up and up and he was lost.

God Almighty, she gave as good as she got every time.  Slowly opening his eyes, he ran his fingers through her auburn hair, ‘Not love you?   Christ, I can’t get enough of you.’

‘Darling, let me get up so we may drink some wine.’

He lay back on the huge pillows and watched her naked body move to the bottle and crystal glasses waiting on the dressing table.  She was beautiful.

‘Who is so important you must visit in Brussels all of a sudden?’ She pouted crossly and handed a glass to him.

‘The Comte de Meyvier, the patriarch of Gabrielle’s Belgian family. She spent a lot of her childhood in Belgium,  I can’t stand him and I’ve avoided most family occasions for years but I’m afraid I must go this time,’ he savoured the wine on his tongue and gestured for her to refill his glass.  ‘He has a lot of influence in banking and commerce.’

***

An hour later he looked at his watch and at Maryanne.  ‘I must leave, my sweet.’

Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘Will you think of me?’

‘Think of you?  I won’t think of anything else. I’ll send you notes and will inform you when I’m due to return.’  He pushed a little packet into her hands.  ‘Don’t even think of looking at another man.’

Adrian walked back towards his club with a small smile on his face.  Maryanne had been his mistress for three months and he was besotted with her.  She instinctively knew what he wanted as soon as he walked in her door, whether it be passionate sex or to talk over a bottle of wine.  His mind drifted back three months to that overcrowded reception for German and French industrialists.  He’d turned and bumped into her standing behind him.  She’d smiled at his profuse apologies and said she’d forgive him if he fetched her a glass of champagne.  The next morning, he sent her a note with a posy of flowers asking permission to call on her.

A week later she was installed in the small but comfortable townhouse.  Many times since then, she’d asked him if he loved her and he always assured her he did.  But he didn’t.  He couldn’t remember loving any woman.  Obsessed with lust over her, yes, but actually in love?  No.  And he would never fall into that trap.  His satisfied smile disappeared. The meeting today had worried him intensely.  Like it or not, he must travel to Brussels immediately.

***

Maryanne waited until she heard the front door close before opening the packet.  A diamond and pearl necklace twinkled up at her.  She kissed it lightly, murmuring in German how beautiful it was, then sat down and pulled the perfumed notepaper and pen towards her.

Thanks for reading!
Jan
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An interview with award-winning author, Jessica James

We’re happy to welcome award-winning Jessica James and her new newest book, Lacewood!

Lacewood by Jessica James

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
JJ: Lacewood came about because I started noticing sycamore trees (once called Lacewood trees). Strange, but true. (You have to read the book to understand the connection).

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from your book?
JJ: Two things: Trust that there is plan for your life—even if you have no idea what it is. And…history should never be forgotten.

NA: A fun fact about writing your book.
JJ: I planted a 10-foot sycamore tree in my yard to celebrate its completion and to remind me of the effort it took write it.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?
JJ: I work part-time as a stagehand at a local performing arts center as a means of getting exercise. Before becoming an author, I was a newspaper editor and freelance writer.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
JJ: I don’t think they believe it’s a real job.

NA: The biggest surprise you had after becoming a writer.
JJ: That after one book another would follow…and another and another.

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
JJ: I absolutely write by the seat of my pants. I never know what is going to happen next.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
JJ: Getting to travel to do research, and winning the John Esten Cooke Award three times. [NA: WOW!]

NA: What are your top three favorite books of all time?
JJ: Scarlet Pimpernel, Northwest Passage, Count of Monte Cristo

NA: A pet peeve.
JJ: That’s easy. People who are late. I believe in the old adage, “better to be an hour early than a minute late.”

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have on?
JJ: Baggy. Comfortable. Perfect for writing.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?
JJ: What day is it?

NA: What are you working on now?
JJ: I’m still mulling over my options. My readers have been begging for another book in my Phantom Force Tactical series, so that’s where I’m leaning.

LACEWOOOD Blurb:

A love story that spans centuries…
Two people trying to escape their pasts find a connection through an old house—and fulfill a destiny through the secrets it shares. Part love story, part ghost story, Lacewood is a timeless novel about trusting in fate, letting go of the past, and believing in things that can’t be seen.

MOVING TO A SMALL TOWN in Virginia is a big change for New York socialite Katie McCain. But when she stumbles across an abandoned 200-year-old mansion, she’s enthralled by the enduring beauty of the neglected estate—and captivated by the haunting portrait of a woman in mourning.

Purchasing the property on a whim, Katie attempts to fit in with the colorful characters in the town of New Hope, while trying to unravel the mystery of the “widow of Lacewood.” As she pieces together the previous owner’s heartrending story, Katie uncovers secrets the house has held for centuries, and discovers the key to coming to terms with her own sense of loss.

The past and present converge when hometown hero Will Durham returns and begins his own healing process by helping the “city girl” restore the place that holds so many memories. As the mystic web of destiny is woven, a love story that might have been lost forever is exposed, and a destiny that has been waiting in the shadows for centuries is fulfilled.

EXCERPT:
Turning in a circle, Katie studied the room again. Faded wallpaper curled and peeled above the dusty wainscoting, but the walls themselves appeared sturdy. On the far side of the entryway, and dominating the wall, stood a mammoth fireplace with an ornately carved hearth. Her attention was immediately drawn to a painting of a woman in nineteenth century dress that hung prominently over the mantel.

“Who is she?”

The sheriff turned to the dusty, sun-bleached portrait in the heavy carved guilt frame. “One of the previous owners, they say.” He shrugged. “The family history kind of got lost with the house. Everyone around here calls her the Widow of Lacewood.”

Katie’s heart suddenly struggled to beat. The anguish in the woman’s eyes kept her riveted. She could see the pain. Feel a heart ripped apart. Something was missing that could never be replaced. Katie had felt such loss before. In a way that’s why she was here.

See the Lacewood trailer.

Lacewood Purchase Links:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Apple Itunes
Other

Lacewood by Jessica James

Author Bio:
Jessica James believes in honor, duty, and true love—and that’s what she writes about in her award-winning novels that span the ages from the Revolutionary War to modern day.

She is a three-time winner of the John Esten Cooke Award for Southern Fiction, and has won more than a dozen other literary awards, including a Readers’ Favorite International Book Award and a Gold Medal from the Military Writers Society of America. Her novels have been used in schools and are available in hundreds of libraries including Harvard and the U.S. Naval Academy.

Contact Links:
Website: https://www.jessicajamesbooks.com
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001IYTXOG
BookBub : https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jessica-james
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/586216.Jessica_James
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RomanticHistoricalFiction
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/southernromance/

Davida is part of the #RRBC blog hop!

Davida by Karen IngallsAugustus Saint-Gaudens was the premier American sculptor from 1880-1920. Though married he fell in love with his model, Davida Johnson Clark and their love affair lasted more than twenty-five years. This fictionalized account will introduce the reader to some of the great art, historical facts, and the moral values of that era.

The author is the great-granddaughter from this union and her purpose in writing the book is to bring recognition to Davida and remove any negative stigma to her. Her grandfather suffered his whole life from being labeled a bastard while growing up and this story is intended to remove that label.

How can a love affair last for such a long period of time? What affect did it have on his career? How did his wife and son cope with their being a second family?

This is a compelling and beautiful love story that has needed to be told.

See more books in the blog hop here.