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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Writing time—Jan Selbourne #MFRWauthor

Week 35: Plots: what period in history and why

Historical romance authorEvery period in history is fascinating. The Greeks, the Romans, Genghis Khan, William the Conqueror, Robin Hood, they all have stories to tell. However, I believe the Tudor period and the Regency period are the most popular for authors and readers.

The Tudor period was dominated by Henry VIII creating the Church of England, divorcing wife number one and removing the heads of wives two and five as the years went on. Bloody Mary lit fires under the heretics, and her sister Elizabeth brought peace and power to England, although Elizabeth did remove the head of her plotting Scottish cousin. Those larger than life Tudors and William Shakespeare have given inspiration to authors and playwrights around the world.

The Regency period was more romantic and prettier. It was a renaissanceRegency romance couple of art, literature, architecture, fashion and music – and stiff class distinctions. We’d be lost without Jane Austen’s window into the times in which she lived, and Georgette Heyer’s wealth of historical detail in her books. Of Heyer’s fifty-five novels published during her lifetime, twenty-six are set specifically within the English Regency period and, incredibly, no one took their clothes off. I’m no prude, far from it, I am in awe this brilliant author, whose books are still in print, can still capture millions of readers and take them back to that romantic period.

World War One changed our history and our world in ways that nobody could have imagined. Empires crumbled, royal dynasties wiped out, massive social change – and women got the vote. I’ll sneak in my “Good on ya Kiwis,” to New Zealand, the first country to give women the vote.

BVS sale: Perilous Love Jan SelbourneIn Perilous Love, Adrian and Gabrielle Bryce are thrown head-first into this huge upheaval when the Germans invade Belgium, sparking World War One. Their privileged lives disappear when they are betrayed, forcing them to run for their lives, suffering injury and witnessing death and atrocities. They reach safety as two very different people, to face charges of treason and a woman who’ll stop at nothing to see Adrian dead.

What do you think?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Jan

Perilous Love
The Proposition
The Woman Behind the Mirror
Lies of Gold—Silver Historical for 2019: Coffee Pot Book Club

A very Perilous Love: Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks

Perilous Love by Jan SelbournePerilous Love

Blurb
Barely tolerating each other, Adrian and Gabrielle are trapped in Belgium as the clouds of war loom over Europe. Plunged into a nightmare of lies and betrayal, they flee for their lives as the German forces cross the border. Narrowly evading capture, witnessing death and atrocities, they reach safety as two different people who’ve found deep love. But, the tentacles of treachery have spread to England where Adrian faces charges of treason and a woman who’ll stop at nothing to see him dead.

Buy links

Amazon

MFRW Book Hooks

Excerpt

The first soft shafts of sunlight woke Adrian. The ground was hard and he was cold. He’d barely slept because of his throbbing foot and he was as thirsty as hell. He hobbled to the canal and drank thirstily then dipped both his feet into the cold water. He let out a slow sigh as the pain eased. Gabrielle knelt at the water’s edge beside him and washed her face and pushed her wet fingers through her hair to slick down the untidy curls.

Her voice was low and angry. ‘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 turned his head away, angry and embarrassed.

‘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. He’d had enough of her barbs and sarcasm.

Furious, he turned 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 flinched as Gabrielle’s hand slapped his face.

‘Yes, your home.’ Gabrielle 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. 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, 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 huge reactions to the events they had witnessed. His insides were ripped apart enough without her rubbing his face in it again and again. How could he have been so bloody naive?  It wouldn’t matter how loudly he protested his innocence, the fact remained his mistress had wheedled far too much information from him and a senior government minister named Edmund. Good God! Sir Edmund Charters! Close to the Prime Minister, related to the Foreign Minister. That old fool must be nearly seventy and you, Bryce, are the biggest fool of them all.

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.

Contact Jan:
https://www.facebook.com/jan.selbourne/
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https://nomadauthors.com/

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It’s here! The Proposition by Jan Selbourne

The Proposition by Jan SelbourneUpdated and with new cover art, Jan Selbourne’s The Proposition has just been re-released! If you haven’t read it, you’re missing out on some great historical fiction! Congratulations, Jan!

I read The Proposition a while ago and really enjoyed it. But when I re-read it last week..it blew me away! I don’t know how Jan does it, but I swear, you feel you’re right there with the characters. Her attention to detail is that good! Mystery, murder, mayhem, romance–it’s all here, and you can have it for yourself!

The Proposition by Jan Selbourne

Blurb:

They met on the eve of a battle. One enlisted to avoid prison, the other enlisted to avoid the money lenders. On the bloodied fields of France, Harry Connelly collapses beside the corpse of Andrew Conroy. It is a risk, a hanging offence—and his only hope for a future. Harry swaps identity discs.

Now as Andrew, he is just another face in post-war London until a letter arrives with a proposition. Accepting is out of the question, refusing pushes him into a nightmare of greed, blackmail and murder. To survive he must live this lie without a mistake. Then he falls for Lacey and her secrets. Will the truth set them free or embroil them even further in the webs of deceit that surround them?

Buy link: Amazon KU

The Proposition by Jan Selbourne

Excerpt:

“Excuse me, call of nature.” Elliott left the room.

The niggling coil of unease had been growing and now, as Andrew watched the dining room door close behind Elliot, his instincts were jabbing at him. His host had been charming and hospitable. Last night, after a delicious dinner at Browns Hotel, they’d touched on their family connection, unsure of what to say without offending the other.

Elliot had twirled his glass between his fingers. “My grandparents made a lot of money from the textile industry, my father sold seventy percent of those businesses and invested in other profitable enterprises. To put it simply, he was a very astute, successful businessman, but I’m afraid he was not a good husband and father. He cared little for us and it distresses me that he cared even less for you and your mother.”

Today, Elliot had proudly introduced him to his pride and joy, a dark grey Austin-20hp and they’d motored smoothly out of London and onto the soft Essex countryside. When they’d stopped at Thaxted’s Swan Inn for lunch, Elliot had commented, “Every spare acre in Essex has been growing vegetables, doing their bit for the war effort and rationing.”

When they continued on to Saffron Walden, he’d pointed to his left, “Railway station, a branch line from Audley End. Made a big difference to this town.”  They’d stopped briefly in High Street, then through the marketplace, bumping over cobblestones to a wider road and finally stopping at the entrance of a large Victorian house. He’d been shown to his room overlooking  the rear of the house with its garden rows of vegetables. Elliot had apologised again, business to attend to and please make himself at home.

Not used to the substantial meals, he’d slept until five pm. At seven pm, he’d joined Elliot in the dining room where silver serving dishes containing roast beef, baked potatoes and green vegetables sat on spirit warmers.

“Very informal this evening,” Elliot had said breezily. “I asked my daily help to prepare something easy for us, so please, help yourself.”

The only time his host’s friendliness disappeared was when the daily help tapped on the door to tell him she’d answered the phone and left the message on the phone pad.

Something was very wrong, or perhaps he was too jumpy from living on this tight rope of lies. The door opened again.

“Much more comfortable,” Elliot grinned and sat down. “More wine?”

“No thank you, I might not be able to climb the stairs, but I must thank you for another very pleasant evening.”

Elliot’s grin disappeared. “It’s time to discuss the business proposition which will give us both what we want.”

“I confess I was intrigued when I received your letter,” Andrew replied guardedly.

“You will perform a service and if that service is completed satisfactorily, I will pay you three hundred pounds and pay your outstanding debts.”

Andrew went perfectly still. “Perform a service?”

“You will impregnate the woman I married.”

The Proposition by Jan Selbourne

Jan SelbourneJan 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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History, mystery, love, intrigue: Jan Selbourne!

This month my friend and partner in crime shares a view into her real world in Oz and her writing world in the mists of history. Welcome to Nomad Authors, Jan!

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book, The Proposition?
JS: In 2015 I visited the WW1 battlefields in Belgium and France where The Propositionmillions of young men perished in that awful war. Thousands of those war graves bear the inscription Known Only to God. That made me wonder if it was possible for a soldier to swap identity discs with another whose body was unrecognizable. London’s Imperial War Museum and the Australian War Memorial told me it was indeed possible although very risky. If caught, the soldier could face the death penalty. That was enough for me to begin The Proposition.

NA: What sort of research did you do to write The Proposition?
JS: First, emails to London’s Imperial War Museum and the Australian War Memorial. I researched the huge Battle of Amiens which helped turn the tide of the war. I researched the military demobilizing process, post war London and the value of money at that time. I walked London’s streets, visited the pubs and inns and train stations featured in the book to ensure the background was as authentic as possible.

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from The Proposition?
JS: I want readers to feel they are there with the characters.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?
JS: I’m retired now. My working years were in the dry world of accounting.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?
JS: I’ve always had the urge to write but career and family came first until a change of direction in life five years ago. I had stories to tell and the time to tell them.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
JS: I think most of them were very surprised I actually published a book!

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
JS: My books start with an idea and I am a seat-of-my-pants writer.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
JS: Definitely the lovely, positive reviews, they make it all worthwhile. And, I must say the biggest thrill I had was holding a copy of my first book, Behind the Clouds, [that became] Perilous Love.Perilous Love

NA: Do you have quirky writing habits?
JS: Not that I know of. Perhaps what I think is normal might be very quirky to others!

NA: Which kind of scenes are the hardest for you to write? Action, dialogue, sex?
JS: Sex scenes are the hardest.

Jan Selbourne books

NA: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
JS: Travel, if I can afford it.

NA: What are your top three favorite books of all time?
JS: Heck, I have dozens of favorite books but three that come to mind now are: Sara Dane by Catherine Gaskin, The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame, the biography of Sir Edward (Weary) Dunlop.

Perilous Love

NA: A pet peeve.
JS: Someone sniffling.

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have on?
JS: It was at the top of the pile this morning.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?
JS: I’ll lie here for one more minute.

NA: What errand/chore do you despise the most?
JS: Ironing, although I avoid that like the plague. Coming home from shopping and realizing I must go back because I’d forgotten the main item.

NA: What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
JS: Sir David Attenborough.

NA: What are you working on now?
JS: This interview. Oh, other than that I am working on a story set in Boston and England during the late 18th century.

Lies of Gold

Thank you for this interview, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Jan

Author bio:

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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The Proposition
Perilous Love
Lies of Gold

A Duty to History

History was my favourite school subject and I guess its never left me. It’s fascinating to learn how each era played a part in shaping our world today. Historical novelsThanks to those scholars and writers with their quills and artists with brushes, we have priceless records of empires and monarchs, exploration of unknown continents, heroes and traitors and medical breakthroughs. The Magna Carta is an excellent example of history with us today.

That puts a big responsibility on authors writing in the historical genre. If we are writing a biography, we must research the facts or be shot out of the water by a history buff. If we write historical fiction, we must research that era to provide an accurate as possible background. We can’t put our characters into the Tudor era, for instance, without portraying that period warts and all. It was colourful, turbulent and brutal.

The Regency period is popular with authors and readers because it was a renaissance of fashion, architecture, literature and music. Beneath the glossRegency couple was poverty, a rigid class system, bigotry and ruthless punishments for petty crimes. An Irish ancestor of mine was transported in chains to Van Diemen’s Land penal colony (now Tasmania, Australia). The thirteen-thousand-mile journey, with appalling food and conditions, took over three months. Her crime was stealing fifteen shillings. Granted, it was a lot of money then and the penalty of fifteen years transportation was better than a public hanging.

Perilous LoveWhile writing Perilous Love, I visited the war memorials in Belgium and France. The devastation and brutality inflicted on those countries during World War One is faithfully preserved, and visiting the area helped me portray that terrible time in my book. I walked among the thousands of immaculately kept war graves, with so many bearing the sad inscription, “Known Only to God.” One was particularly poignant. An unknown Australian lay in an unmarked grave for 75 years before he was Australian soldier's slouch hatbrought home to rest in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the Australian War Memorial.

That made me wonder if it was possible for a soldier to take the identity discs of a fallen comrade who was virtually unrecognisable. In those days, war service records were hand written with basic details of name, marital status, religion, height, colour, weight. I was sure such a thing (exchanging identities) did happen, but I had to do my research. I contacted London’s Imperial War Museum and the World War One memorial plaqueAustralian War Memorial with that query. Both very kindly replied that yes it was possible, although the chances of being caught were high and the penalty very harsh. Neither would admit it did happen but it was good enough for me to begin writing my third book, The Proposition where one man enlists to avoid prison and another enlists to avoid the money lenders.

Thus, on the bloodied battlefields of France, Harry Connelly collapses beside the corpse of Andrew Conroy. It was a risk. A hanging offence, The Propositionactually. But it was also Harry’s only hope for a future. Harry swaps identity discs—and falls into more than he ever bargained for! Shortly after his return to London, a letter arrives with a proposition which plunges him into a nightmare of murder, jealousy and greed. To survive he must live this lie without a mistake.

Could I have written both Perilous Love and The Proposition without benefit of visiting the battlefields and museums of World War One, or without writing official organizations? Sure. But the realism which I add to my books would be missing. An historical author owes her readers accuracy and realism, and I do my best to provide both!

Thanks for reading!
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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