Lady Gwendolyn Pettigrew longs to be a mother, but refuses to marry the lecherous old fool her father has found for her. When her best friend convinces her to consider her husband’s younger brother as a suitable candidate, Gwen agrees to a marriage of convenience, hoping against hope that her dream of becoming a mother will have a chance.
The Hon. John Montague, a penniless younger son, is handsome, witty, and thrilled that a woman with a dowry has agreed to wed him. Best of all she’s a fiercely independent bluestocking, a woman who won’t want to bother with a family. Because John has a shocking secret. He’s vowed never to bring a child into the world, a child who, like his own mother, might carry the strain of madness.
As secrets unfold, tension grows, threatening the fragile bonds they’ve forged. Worse, someone wants them to abandon their home and leave Yorkshire, and they’ll stop at nothing to make it happen.
I love telling this story, although my son is now an adult and likes to say, “Oh Mom, must you?”
When my first child, David, was about five, he watched an old monster movie featuring Godzilla destroying London. He pestered us for days, saying he had to go to London to see Godzilla. Being busy parents, we made a huge mistake when we told him no. “When you’re nine. We’ll go then.” We were sure he’d forget.
His ninth birthday came around and he insisted on knowing when we were going to London. My husband and I did some calculations, decided we could afford it, and that summer we packed up David and his little sister, Shelley, and off we went.
I don’t think he was too disappointed to find Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and the Tower intact, and after touring the city we rented a car and headed north. That’s when I fell in love with Britain and vowed I would one day write about it.
It’s decades later and I finally wrote Scandal’s Child, set pretty much in London and a small village which could have been anywhere. But when it was time to write Scandal’s Bride, I included Yorkshire, knowing I hadn’t been there in a very long time, but wanting to see it again through the eyes of my character.
Not trusting my memories, I rummaged through an old storage closet until I found pictures from that long-ago trip. I read a guidebook, did some internet searches, and tuned in to a season of Happy Valley, a modern cop show set in Yorkshire. Then I wrote, feeling relatively comfortable about the setting for Woodhaven Abbey, supposedly in the countryside not far from the Ouse River.
I found pictures of sheep, swore a guidebook said gorse was red (all the others said it was yellow), and dug out scenes of ruined abbeys. I was set to write my book about strangers who marry, who work to make their crumbling estate a home, and who (of course) encounter many difficulties along the way.
I love how the characters find their way to their happy ending and I have Godzilla to thank. Or maybe my son who never let us forget that one day we would take him to London.
When my first child, David, was about five, he watched an old monster movie featuring Godzilla destroying London. He pestered us for days, saying he had to go to London to see Godzilla. Being busy parents, we made a huge mistake when we told him no. “When you’re nine. We’ll go then.” We were sure he’d forget.
His ninth birthday came around and he insisted on knowing when we were going to London. My husband and I did some calculations, decided we could afford it, and that summer we packed up David and his little sister, Shelley, and off we went.
I don’t think he was too disappointed to find Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and the Tower intact, and after touring the city we rented a car and headed north. That’s when I fell in love with Britain and vowed I would one day write about it.
It’s decades later and I finally wrote Scandal’s Child, set pretty much in London and a small village which could have been anywhere. But when it was time to write Scandal’s Bride, I included Yorkshire, knowing I hadn’t been there in a very long time, but wanting to see it again through the eyes of my character.
Not trusting my memories, I rummaged through an old storage closet until I found pictures from that long-ago trip. I read a guidebook, did some internet searches, and tuned in to a season of Happy Valley, a modern cop show set in Yorkshire. Then I wrote, feeling relatively comfortable about the setting for Woodhaven Abbey, supposedly in the countryside not far from the Ouse River.
I found pictures of sheep, swore a guidebook said gorse was red (all the others said it was yellow), and dug out scenes of ruined abbeys. I was set to write my book about strangers who marry, who work to make their crumbling estate a home, and who (of course) encounter many difficulties along the way.
I love how the characters find their way to their happy ending and I have Godzilla to thank. Or maybe my son who never let us forget that one day we would take him to London.
He removed his waistcoat, laying it over the topcoat, and sat down opposite Gwen. “Gwen . . .”
“John.”
They both laughed, and it was a good feeling. He drained his wine glass. “Drink up. I want to talk to you before we retire.”
Her eyes widened, and her breath seemed to catch. Was she feeling faint? He certainly was. Why had he left this so long? Most people consummated their marriage the first night.
She picked up her glass and took a hefty swallow. Her cheeks were as pink as her dress, and she looked as good as an iced sweet in a bakery window, something he’d like to swirl his tongue around and gently taste.
Get on with it.
He took a deep breath, scooted his chair closer to hers until their knees touched, and took one of her hands in his. Her fingers were long and well-shaped. He wondered what they would feel like on his . . .
“Gwen . . .”
“John.”
They laughed again, and their merriment gave him an opening. He placed his hand behind her head, leaned in, and took her bottom lip in his mouth, nibbling as he watched her face. She was as wide-eyed as he was, not even trying to move away. Then her lashes fluttered, and her eyes closed as she moved closer, inviting him to deepen the kiss. She moaned as his lips closed over hers, and he was totally undone.
“John.”
They both laughed, and it was a good feeling. He drained his wine glass. “Drink up. I want to talk to you before we retire.”
Her eyes widened, and her breath seemed to catch. Was she feeling faint? He certainly was. Why had he left this so long? Most people consummated their marriage the first night.
She picked up her glass and took a hefty swallow. Her cheeks were as pink as her dress, and she looked as good as an iced sweet in a bakery window, something he’d like to swirl his tongue around and gently taste.
Get on with it.
He took a deep breath, scooted his chair closer to hers until their knees touched, and took one of her hands in his. Her fingers were long and well-shaped. He wondered what they would feel like on his . . .
“Gwen . . .”
“John.”
They laughed again, and their merriment gave him an opening. He placed his hand behind her head, leaned in, and took her bottom lip in his mouth, nibbling as he watched her face. She was as wide-eyed as he was, not even trying to move away. Then her lashes fluttered, and her eyes closed as she moved closer, inviting him to deepen the kiss. She moaned as his lips closed over hers, and he was totally undone.
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ReplyDeleteAlways fun to hear about another new great book. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for featuring my book today.
ReplyDeleteHow many hours a day do you spend writing?
ReplyDeleteHi Bernie. I write two or three hours a day, early in the morning.
DeleteSounds like a good book.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteSounds like my kind of book!
ReplyDeleteI hope you like it.
DeleteSounds good! Beautiful cover!
ReplyDeleteThe cover is beautiful. My publisher chose it.
DeleteI have no questions for the author.
ReplyDeletelooks like a fun one
ReplyDeleteOoh poor Lady Gwendolyn Pettigrew; the decision to (have or) not have children is a total deal-breaker...
ReplyDeleteNot sure if divorce, short of death, was common back then.
Divorce was exceedingly difficult (almost nonexistent). They would have had to live apart or perhaps adopt, which I believe was allowed. But this book has a happy ending. It's a romance!
Deletesounds so good.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I enjoyed writing it.
Deletelooks like a fun one
ReplyDelete