{"id":2519,"date":"2020-06-30T21:03:34","date_gmt":"2020-07-01T04:03:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/?p=2519"},"modified":"2020-06-29T22:09:00","modified_gmt":"2020-06-30T05:09:00","slug":"what-a-woman-can-do-jan-selbourne-mfrwhooks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/2020\/06\/30\/what-a-woman-can-do-jan-selbourne-mfrwhooks\/","title":{"rendered":"Who knows what a woman can do? Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Woman Behind the Mirror<\/a><\/h2>\n

Blurb \u2013<\/strong>
\n\"The<\/a>Betrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe does the unthinkable\u2014she runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America\u2014the New World. For Sarah, a \u201cnew world\u201d of broken promises, abandonment, poverty and shame. Around her, the American Revolution is simmering, and the siege of Boston worsens by the day. As British soldiers seek out traitors and treason, a desperate Sarah breaks open a safe looking for cash. Instead, she finds a box holding Bank of England documents. Through willpower, bitter determination, and lying through her teeth, Sarah manages to make her way home to England. What she doesn\u2019t know is that two men follow, and they will do anything to claim those documents.<\/p>\n

Bank investigator Neil McAlister faces an almost impossible task\u2014to determine the true owner of the documents by deciding who is lying. Most of all, as danger creeps ever closer, he needs to know who wants the secretive, beautiful Sarah dead.<\/p>\n

Buy link<\/strong>
\nKindle Unlimited<\/a><\/p>\n

\"MFRW<\/p>\n

Excerpt \u2013<\/strong>
\nWhen the early dusk gave way to night, she cut her hair to above her shoulders. Dressed in grubby men\u2019s breeches, a thick quilted coat and cloak she\u2019d bought from a street hawker, her cropped hair pushed under a black hat and a knife in her pocket, she walked past the front entrance, looked around and hurried down the lane to the rear of the building. Stepping over rubble and filth she moved closer to the back door and almost sagged with relief. The cover over the coal chute had not been sealed. Crouching down, she pulled the metal ring and pulled again but it wouldn\u2019t budge. Forcing down the urge to scream and kick, she pulled again. With a harsh scraping of wood against wood it lifted, and she dropped into the black hole. Hitting the pile of coal with a thud, she lay still listening, then crept into the empty kitchen and the hall. A glance behind her and she sprinted up the staircase to Samuel Fenton\u2019s private quarters.<\/p>\n

It was as she expected, dark and stripped of all furniture, so she felt her way along the wall until a hand covered her mouth. Her heart thudded with shock then she bit down hard. The grip loosened and she kicked back behind her. Two strong hands swung her around and jammed her face into the wall.<\/p>\n

\u201cMove and I\u2019ll cut your throat,\u201d a muffled voice hissed in her ear.<\/p>\n

Sarah tried to kick back again but he dodged to one side and threw her to the floor. Winded and terrified she flinched when his knife pressed against her throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho are you? Answer me!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d she begged. \u201cLet me go and I\u2019ll not look back.\u201d<\/p>\n

A sharp intake of air. \u201cA woman?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sarah was pulled up to face a man shrouded in black and with a scarf covering the lower part of his face.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me go!\u201d she yelled but his grip tightened and now frightened for her life she fought back. Her fingernails clawed at his eyes and when he jerked away her boot lashed into his shin bone. Swearing furiously, he kicked her feet from under her and she landed heavily on the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cBitch,\u201d he snarled. \u201cIf you were a man, you\u2019d be dead.\u201d Within seconds he was gone.<\/p>\n

Shaking uncontrollably, Sarah backed into a corner and curled into a ball until the cold and the terrible silence became unbearable. You are so close, and you can\u2019t lie here forever.<\/p>\n

Lifting her head, she peered into the dark room before crawling to the alcove where the mahogany desk had stood. Inch by inch, she felt along the floorboards until she found the join. Her fingers moved forward until they found the second join and pushed down. It didn\u2019t move. Stifling a sob, she willed herself to remember the night two men had challenged each other to a duel. She\u2019d burst into this room to find Samuel Fenton on his knees placing a box into the hole. He\u2019d swiftly covered it, spluttering something about dropping his snuff box. She hadn\u2019t so much as glanced at the floor, instead she\u2019d pointed to the salon shouting, \u201cQuick, they\u2019ll kill each other.\u201d Now, she had no idea how to open the hidey-hole.<\/p>\n

God, it was so dark she couldn\u2019t see a damn thing. Gritting her teeth, Sarah felt the floorboards again. No keyhole. Her eyes closed in despair, why didn\u2019t she bring a hatpin or\u2026 Her eyes flew open. Idiot, the knife!<\/p>\n

Keeping one finger on the join, she fumbled for the knife in her pocket and pushed it into the crack. Nothing. \u201cPlease, please,\u201d she begged silently and dug the knife into the other join. A soft click. Now what do I do? Her fingers gently pushed again, and the other end lifted. Every nerve in her body was screaming to get out now as she lifted the box from its hiding place. Something else was beneath it.<\/p>\n

Her fingers probed and picked up a slim leather folder when a noise outside made her freeze. Dear God, he was coming back. Then it went silent. Most likely an alley cat. She pushed the folder into the pocket of her cloak, clutched the box to her chest and, heart pounding loud enough to hear a mile away, she crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. Across the flagstones to the coal chute. \u201cOh no,\u201d she whispered. There was nothing to help her climb out. Defeated, she slumped down to the floor and put her head in her hands.<\/p>\n

It was a scraping noise that roused her. Most likely a tree branch against a window, but wait, how did that brute get in and out? Gripping the knife, she walked beside the walls, touching each boarded window and door and then stopped to listen. Back to the privy where chamber pots were emptied into the sewer outside. The small door was open, its rusty hinges squeaking. Dropping to the floor she crawled through the gap, stepped over the foul-smelling drain and was about to run when a figure loomed in front of her.<\/p>\n

Hard hands grabbed her shoulders. \u201cWhat were you doing in there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing, get away, get away from me!\u201d Jerking away, the box slipped from her grasp and hit the ground with a clatter.<\/p>\n

The man grabbed her again. \u201cSlut, answer me or I\u2019ll break your fucking neck.\u201d<\/p>\n

Blindly Sarah lashed out at him and her breath caught in her throat when he gave a sickening whoop and staggered backwards to collapse onto the cobblestones.<\/p>\n

Oh, dear God. In her panic to get out she\u2019d forgotten the knife in her hand. Her legs were turning to water, she couldn\u2019t move, then a shout from the road.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat goes on there?\u201d Two night watchmen with lanterns were turning into the lane. Dragging air into her lungs, she picked up the box and fled.
\n<\/p>\n

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The Woman Behind the Mirror Blurb \u2013 Betrothed by her father to a man twice her age, Sarah Forsythe does the unthinkable\u2014she runs away with the son of a Methodist minister. Not to Gretna Green, to colonial America\u2014the New World. For Sarah, a \u201cnew world\u201d of broken promises, abandonment, poverty and shame. Around her, the … Continue reading “Who knows what a woman can do? Jan Selbourne #MFRWHooks”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1012,4,1246,1],"tags":[1134,1391,1133,21,27,28,907,1132],"class_list":["post-2519","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-book-hooks","category-book-topics","category-mfrw","category-uncategorized","tag-american-revolution","tag-arranged-marriage","tag-colonial-america","tag-historical","tag-historical-romance","tag-jan-selbourne","tag-strong-heroine","tag-the-woman-behind-the-mirror"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9wA33-ED","jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2519","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2519"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2519\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2524,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2519\/revisions\/2524"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2519"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2519"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nomadauthors.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2519"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}