Book Spotlight and Snippet: The Warmth of Snow by Heidi Eljarbo

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There must be a way to thaw a heart long frozen. Can she help him, or does he have other plans?

Sweden 1810.
August Brandell, the count of Linborg, has returned home after four years of war against the French Empire under the direction of Napoléon Bonaparte. Wounded and downtrodden, he is a meager shadow of the man he used to be.
One day, a lovely young woman comes calling. She’s strong and bright and, unlike the rest, seems unaffected by his wealth and unfortunate disability. He soon discovers he wants more than a sweet friendship, but a life of caring for him would not be fair to such a beautiful soul. Oh, how dearly, deeply he loves her and secretly wants her to stay, but he cannot and will not ask such a sacrifice from her…especially not when it’s out of pity for him.

Erica Gustava Ebbesdotter has primarily been left to herself since she was orphaned at an early age. Although grateful to her aunt and uncle for taking her in, they pay her no attention and even keep her in the dark about her parents. Hearing about Count Brandell’s unfortunate fate on the battlefield, she knocks on the door at Castle Linborg to leave him a card of encouragement.

Meeting Count Brandell changes Erica’s entire world. Falling for him is utterly unexpected. Soon, he fills her heart, but he is far above her station. How can a man like him see beyond her less refined clothes and past? Worst of all, he is already betrothed.

This is a sweet and wholesome historical romance—a hauntingly beautiful tale of two hearts meant to be together.

  

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  Snippet

THE NEXT DAY, Erica decided to take Ingela’s advice and ride by Castle Linborg. Even if the count preferred to keep to himself, he might be encouraged by a token of goodwill. It would not hurt to try. Anything that would bring a smile to someone’s face or stir a sentiment of good cheer in someone’s heart was worth the little time and effort she put into it. Besides, why listen to rumors? Erica had always favored a proper, personal acquaintance to blindly believing in other people’s thoughts and comments. Gossip was too often malicious and hurtful, made up of ignorance and hearsay, and spread by those filled with jealousy. At least, that was her experience growing up in her uncle’s household.

Erica stopped at the entrance of the lane leading up to Castle Linborg. What was the drawback of coming unannounced? The worst she could think of? They could tell her to leave. Then again, maybe they’d open their doors and invite her in. She pulled her shoulders back and urged the horse forward.

The gray stone castle was a pearl of an edifice and undeniably the most impressive and dominant building she’d ever seen. The structure with its many towers and differently shaped windows fronted an austere yet mysterious beauty.

As she dismounted in front of the long stone staircase, a stableboy came running.

“May I take your horse, miss?” he asked politely.

“Thank you.” Erica handed him the reins and started up the staircase to the main entrance.

She counted the steps and stopped halfway where two majestic lions carved in stone adorned either side. Such amazing craftmanship. She stroked the cold sculptures then continued up the rest of the stairs, holding onto the thick, stone handrail. Finally, at the top plateau, Erica faced the arched double doors. She pulled the doorbell and waited.

HEIDI ELJARBO grew up in a home full of books, artwork, and happy creativity. She is the author of award-winning historical novels filled with courage, hope, mystery, adventure, and sweet romance in the midst of challenging times. She’s been named a master of dual timelines and often writes about strong-willed women of past centuries.

 After living in Canada, six US states, Japan, Switzerland, and Austria, Heidi now calls Norway home. She lives with her husband on a charming island and enjoys walking their Wheaten Terrier in any kind of weather, hugging her grandchildren, and has a passion for art and history.

Her family’s chosen retreat is a mountain cabin, where they hike in the summer and ski the vast white terrain during winter.

 Heidi’s favorites are her family, God's beautiful nature, and the word whimsical.

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Book Spotlight and Excerpt: The Husband Criteria by Catherine Kullmann

 

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London 1817

The primary aim of every young lady embarking on the Spring frenzy that is the Season must be to make a good match. Or must it? And what is a good match? For cousins Cynthia, Chloe and Ann, well aware that the society preux chevalier may prove to be a domestic tyrant, these are vital questions. How can they discover their suitors’ true character when all their encounters must be confined to the highly ritualised round of balls, parties and drives in the park?

As they define and refine their Husband Criteria, Cynthia finds herself unwillingly attracted to aloof Rafe Marfield, heir to an earldom, while Chloe is pleased to find that Thomas Musgrave, the vicar’s son from home, is also in London. And Ann must decide what is more important to her, music or marriage.

And what of the gentlemen who consider the marriage mart to be their hunting grounds? How will they react if they realise how rigorously they are being assessed?

A light-hearted, entertaining look behind the scenes of a Season that takes a different course with unexpected consequences for all concerned.

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 Excerpt

Chapter Four

Chloe and Ann were at the centre of an animated group. However, as they neared it, Cynthia noticed that once they had been introduced, people tended to step back and talk to their neighbours, leaving the two girls alone.

Once greetings had been exchanged, she gently urged Martin to change position so that they formed a group of four. “It’s as if they are planets orbiting the sun,” she murmured. “They cannot remain but are impelled onwards.”

Chloe groaned. “That reminds me of the problems from Butler’s Exercises on the Globe. To find the place of a given planet in the Ecliptic for any given time. It didn’t matter how often I tried; I could never do them. In the end, Mamma agreed I need not attempt them. I love to look up at the night sky, and make out the constellations, but I just could not transfer them to the Globe.”

“It is as well you were called Chloe, then, and not Urania,” Martin remarked.

She looked at him, horrified. “That is not a real name.”

“It is,” Cynthia said. “She is the Muse of Astronomy.”

“In ancient times. Do you know anybody who is called it today?” Chloe demanded. “You might as well be called Hercules or, or…”

“Aesop,” Ann supplied.

Martin threw his hand up at the girls’ laughter. “I give in. Chloe is a much prettier name; it suits you better.”

“A compliment! I thank you, sir.”

“Make the most of it,” Cynthia advised her. “Martin is not given to making compliments.”

“I do, but only when they are deserved.”

At this lofty pronouncement, the three girls glared indignantly at him.

“For that, you must pay a compliment to each of us before the night is out,” Cynthia said.

“Only if you return the favour,” he retorted.

The three looked at each other. “Done!” Chloe said.

When the others nodded, she smiled brightly at Martin.

“Indeed, Mr Glazebrook, you have a very pretty wit.”

Martin accepted this with a smug nod, but looked uncomfortable when Ann followed with, “I vow, Mr Glazebrook, your sparkling wit matches your eyes.”

Cynthia smirked as she drawled, “With such a charming newcomer, the Season looks brighter already.”

“Sis!” Martin said, outraged, at which the three girls collapsed into laughter.

“Rather trite, Miss Glazebrook,” a deep voice said behind them and Cynthia turned to look up into Lord Marfield’s impassive face.

Engulfed by a wave of mortification, she sharply bit the inside of her lip, hoping to stave off the blush she felt creeping into her cheeks. Forcing herself not to lower her gaze, she said, “Indeed, my lord. I fear my muse has deserted me and I must resort to lesser inspiration.”

“That is sad indeed.” A little smile glimmered in his eyes; the cast of his features became less severe and he turned to the couple who had come up with him. “Lady Elizabeth, Hope, may I present Miss Glazebrook, Miss Loring, and Miss Overton? And Mr Glazebrook. Ladies, Mr Glazebrook, Lady Elizabeth Hope, and Lord Hope.”

“Oh, we know Mr and Miss Glazebrook,” Lady Elizabeth said, smiling, “and are happy to meet Miss Loring and Miss Overton.”

Her brother bowed. “Now, do tell us what diverted you so?”

“Just a silly joke, not worth repeating,” Martin said hastily. “Have you seen Kean’s Macbeth?”

Not long afterwards, they were joined by Mr Malvin, and Cynthia was satisfied that Chloe and Ann no longer appeared to be unknown newcomers but were among a group that included four eligible bachelors, two of whom were peers’ heirs. First impressions were so important; it had taken her some time to find her feet last year, and she would spare her friends the experience if she could.

As soon the sound of sedate trios and quartets gave way to the sinuous invitation of the waltz, the first pairs were formed, the gentlemen turning to the ladies nearest to them. Martin danced with Lady Elizabeth, Chloe with Lord Hope, Ann with Mr Malvin, and Cynthia, to her hidden dismay, with Lord Marfield.

To give the devil his due, he had neither hesitated nor let his eyes stray to other young ladies in the group, but had bowed as soon as Hope had offered his arm to Chloe, and said, “Miss Glazebrook, may I have the pleasure?”

Were it not for the lowering thought that this distinction was due to nothing more than proximity and politeness, she would have savoured it more. They were well matched, she discovered. His clasp was neither too firm nor too loose, but secure enough that she could follow his lead and he never lost sight of the other dancers, skillfully avoiding collisions while making full use of the floor space available. With an inward sigh, she gave herself up to the joy of the dance. Although they did not speak, there was an intangible connection between them, deeper than physical touch, arising from the subtle matching and mirroring of steps, the fleeting locking of eyes during a turn or the brief smiles that marked the end of a complicated figure.

Source:  NYC Public Library Digital Collections

When the music stopped, they smiled in mutual appreciation of a pleasure shared. “Thank you,” he said as she rose from her curtsey. She wondered what he would do next. Etiquette required him to escort her back to her mother or other chaperon, but she had not been standing with them. He offered her his arm, and they fell in behind other couples who were ‘taking a turn of the room’.

“You dance very well, Miss Glazebrook. One has the impression that it is a joy rather than a duty for you.”

“Indeed it is, especially when my partner is equally proficient.”

He laughed. “Yes, there is nothing worse than a partner who seems always to count their steps or continually supervise their feet, as if they might suddenly declare their independence and embark on a very different figure than the one intended.”

“Or who blithely gets the steps of a country dance confused so that one has to tug them into place. Worst of all is the partner who thinks they can dance the quadrille.”

“Perhaps we should insist everyone passes a proficiency test,” he suggested.

“Almack’s could issue badges, and insist that sets are made up of dancers of similar standard, with a separate room reserved for the lowest level. A patroness would have to approve any promotion out of it.”

“We, of course, would be in the highest category.”

He uttered this absurdity with a completely straight face and she was delighted by the way he had entered into her flight of fancy. “Like a premier danseur at the Opéra in Paris?” she suggested.

“Do they have sashes as well?”

“Perhaps, when not in stage costume. I don’t know.”

They had reached the Swann-Lorings. Chloe had already returned and was chatting to the little group that had again clustered around her. Cynthia slipped her hand from Marfield’s arm, saying, “Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, Miss Glazebrook.” He bowed and strolled away.

 

Catherine Kullmann

 Catherine Kullmann was born and educated in Dublin. Following a three-year courtship conducted mostly by letter, she moved to Germany where she lived for twenty-five years before returning to Ireland. She has worked in the Irish and New Zealand public services and in the private sector. Widowed, she has three adult sons and two grandchildren.

Catherine has always been interested in the extended Regency period, a time when the foundations of our modern world were laid. She loves writing and is particularly interested in what happens after the first happy end—how life goes on for the protagonists and sometimes catches up with them. Her books are set against a background of the offstage, Napoleonic wars and consider, in particular, the situation of women trapped in a patriarchal society.

She is the author of The Murmur of Masks, Perception & Illusion, A Suggestion of Scandal, The Duke’s Regret, The Potential for Love, A Comfortable Alliance and Lady Loring’s Dilemma.

Catherine also blogs about historical facts and trivia related to this era. You can find out more about her books and read her blog (My Scrap Album) on her website. You can contact her via her Facebook page or on Twitter.

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Book Launch: The Lyon and The Lamb: The Lyon's Den Connected World by Elizabeth Keysian

 

He’s dashed all her hopes. She won’t ask him for help again…
Only the production of an heir can save Lady Araminta Lamb. The problem is that she’s a childless widow who, after an abusive marriage, can’t bear the thought of a man’s touch. But when her desperate attempt to adopt a child is foiled by the powerful Leo Chetwynd, Earl of Aylsham, there’s only one option left to keep her home and her fragile sister safe. She must gamble everything on Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s outrageous matchmaking scheme.

Playing by Society’s rules hasn’t done him any favors. Perhaps it’s time to break those rules…
Leo Chetwynd needs money urgently or his precious orphans will be cast out. A disastrous business venture has cost him all his capital, and there’s nothing left to offer but himself. Marriage to an heiress is the only solution that he and his scapegrace brother can think of, but first, he must go to the Lyon’s Den and prove his skills as a lover. If Leo accepts Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s choice of heiress, sight unseen, the orphanage and the family name will be saved. He can only pray that the chosen heiress isn’t the anonymous veiled widow who has become his enemy.

She’s the last woman on earth he could ever marry…

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Elizabeth Keysian

Elizabeth Keysian is a USA TODAY bestselling author of heart-pounding Regency romances set mostly in the West of England. She has just completed a series for Dragonblade Publishing called Trysts and Treachery, which is set in the Tudor era. Though primarily a writer of romance, she loves to put a bit of mystery, adventure, and suspense into her stories and refuses to let her characters take themselves too seriously.

Elizabeth likes to write from experience, not easy when her works range from the medieval to the Victorian eras. However, her passion for re-enactment has helped, as have the many years she spent working in museums and British archaeology. If you find some detail in her work you’ve never come across before, you can bet she either dug it up, quite literally, or found it on a museum shelf.

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Book spotlight and excerpt: The Brantford Wagers (The Brantford Series, Book 1) by Nadine Kampen

 

Is Clara Vincent ready to risk it all for love?

Clara Vincent is “the artful dodger” when it comes to marriage, especially when her father is bent on match-making. Will her attitude change when she meets two eligible suitors and is drawn into the lives of intensely competitive families? Clara falls unexpectedly in love, but when fortunes are reversed and relationships up-ended, she needs to decide whether to trust James Brantford, who is seeking retribution or accept the love of the man everyone else believes is her ideal match.

As the Brantford wagers unfold and lay bare the history of past relationships, will Clara be able to learn the truth and finally follow her heart?

 

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EXCERPT

From Chapter 17 – The Fall Picnic

Not far from Clara and Mrs Sand, near to Mrs Brantford, were two long tables set with food and beverages. The meal was to be served at four, said Mrs Sand, and this was to tide them over. ‘I do hope my brother will make an announcement over dinner, but he would not confirm it, even to his own sister. He can be so very stubborn.’ She giggled like a child and waved her brush in the direction of her brother. ‘Look at him, dear soul, surrounded by all the eager young ladies. There is only one way to put a stop to all the ladies chasing him, if he would only see it for himself.’

Mrs Sand resumed her painting, and Clara moved quietly away, drinking in the beauty of the property. She felt a deep appreciation for this family’s heritage, and she longed for the stability they enjoyed. She envied the Brantfords, being raised likely for generations in the same house. Her own family had moved several times, settling into Wellsmere a few years ago. She was envious, not of the man’s wealth, but of the history that Mr Brantford was to inherit.

Nearby lay a short path leading to a wild little garden. From here, a pathway led towards a small lake. Clara walked with a quick step, away from the other guests and the manor. She breathed in the sweet, moist air, grateful for time to herself at last.

‘Miss Vincent!’ came a man’s voice.

Seeing it was Mr Langley, she gave him a friendly wave in reply. Langley’s long stride brought him to her side, and they strolled together along the path.

‘It is good to see you,’ he said. ‘It has been difficult to break away from visiting at Ashton’s. And now, just this morning, to my dismay, I received a summons from my Aunt Melbourne. I am to leave in two days to collect my Aunt and take her to London. It is rather sudden,’ he protested. ‘I hope, however, to see you eight weeks from now at my aunt’s estate.’ He looked relieved when she nodded her agreement.

‘This estate puts me in mind of Wellsmere. Here, in particular, it is especially beautiful,’ he gestured towards the mature woodland. ‘These are grounds to have and to hold. I could be content in such a place. Nay, I am in fact already content. Did you realise, Miss Vincent, that the other gentlemen are envious of me? They wait in anticipation for me to leave your side.’

Discomfited, and to lighten the mood, Clara replied playfully, ‘Come, Mr Langley, very few of them can even see us. In any case, I must prove you wrong. Look there. See how Mr Drinscol pays rapt attention to his wife.’

‘She has much to say, and he, alas, is compelled to listen.’

‘I would wager it goes both ways,’ she commented, then tried another tack. ‘Over there, my cousin Stancroft strolls happily with his neighbour.’

‘Ah, the charming Miss Drinscol. She cannot play cards for love nor money, which is not in itself important, but it bodes ill for other matters.’

Clara’s eye caught a movement between the pair, and her glance lingered as John reached under his greatcoat and handed a slip of paper to Miss Drinscol.

‘Most of the men I see would leave their present company in a moment, whereas I would not trade these moments with you, Miss Vincent, for the company of any.’

‘I beg you, Mr Langley, do stop!’ she laughed, blushing. She hurriedly moved the conversation on to another topic.

Studying her face, Mr Langley thought he had never seen her look so lovely. He smiled at her and said, ‘Do you see that canal over there? It is entirely man-made. The father aims to bring the river closer so he can fish at leisure and improve his view.’

‘Yes, so I understand,’ she replied.

‘What a grand scheme. That is a man who appreciates the finer things in life. Were I in Mr Brantford’s position, the younger Brantford, I would engage a Mr Repton, or one of his understudies, to improve even further on the design. However, the canal will be completed soon. How I would love to purchase this estate!’

The path they were on led back towards the great house, and they could hear faint strains of conversation from a group nearby. When Clara tripped over a protruding root, Mr Langley drew her arm through his to steady her. Seeing Mr Brantford ahead of them, he pinned her arm securely at his side. His gloved hand resting atop hers in proprietary fashion, he called out a greeting to their host inviting him to join them.

Brantford hesitated, surveying the pair. He spoke a few words to his grandmother and came towards them.

‘We are speaking of homes, Mr Brantford, and admiring yours. What a grand old structure. Two centuries at least, I should think.’

Mr Brantford said curtly that the home was, in fact, one hundred and sixty years old.

‘Well, it is one of the finer houses in these parts. Let me buy it from you, if you ever sell. I have fallen in love with it,’ Mr Langley said with a boyish laugh. ‘Your family has had it long enough. I will happily take it off your father’s hands.’

‘The entail expires after it passes to me in due course, so I will keep you in mind.’

‘That is a fortunate situation. But we lose Miss Vincent with our talk of entails. Are you in love with old houses, Miss Vincent?’

Clara Vincent knew, without doubt, that she was in love, but her mind was far from being fixed on stone walls and chimney stacks.

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Nadine Kampen

In her début novel, The Brantford Wagers, Nadine Kampen draws on her passion for stories that bring a smile and warm the hearts of the reader. The author immerses the reader in the fictional world of traditional historical romance, set in the memorable Regency England period, sharing the hopes, schemes, and antics of her characters.

Prior to her career as an author, Nadine served as a regional marketing manager with an international consulting firm and as a communications and marketing director on university campuses. Earlier in her career, she worked in public relations and journalism, and was co-author and project lead for five non-fiction books comprising The Canadian Breast Cancer Series, published in 1989.

A resident of Winnipeg in Manitoba, Canada, Nadine loves relaxing with family and friends, reading and walking, playing tunes on her 1905 Bell piano, and gardening.

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The Inspiration Behind The Potential for Love by Catherine Kullmann

1816

For over six years, Thomas Ferraunt’s thoughts have been of war. Newly returned to England from occupied Paris, he must ask himself what his place is in this new world and what he wants from it. More and more, his thoughts turn to Arabella Malvin, but would Lord Malvin agree to such a mismatch for his daughter, especially when she is being courted by Lord Henry Danlow?

About to embark on her fourth Season, Arabella is tired of the life of a debutante, waiting in the wings for her real life to begin. She is ready to marry. But which of her suitors has the potential for love, and who will agree to the type of marriage she wants?

As she struggles to make her choice, she is faced with danger from an unexpected quarter while Thomas is stunned by a new challenge. Will these events bring them together or drive them apart?

We are celebrating the release of the special hardback edition of The Potential for Love during this tour. With a beautiful dust jacket over an elegant laminated cover, it will enhance any library and is the perfect gift for lovers of historical women’s fiction and historical romance.

The Inspiration behind The Potential for Love

Catherine Kullmann 

For centuries, marriage was dangerous for English women. The legal principle of coverture meant that, as a leading eighteenth-century jurist, Sir William Blackstone, put it, the very being or legal existence of the woman is suspended during marriage. A wife was at her husband’s mercy. She had no separate legal existence, her husband could deal with her person, her children, and her property as he pleased, and she had no recourse to the law, no matter how badly his treatment of her might be. It was almost impossible for a woman to sue successfully for divorce. If she left her husband, he could legally compel her to return to him. If he divorced her, she lost her reputation, her place in society, and probably her children.

Why, then, did women marry? At the same time, there was really only one career open to women, and that was marriage. From girlhood, they were trained to manage their husband’s home, bring up his children, and support him in his endeavours according to his station in life. If they failed to marry, they remained dependent on their parents, and later on their brothers, unless family circumstances required them to seek a menial, poorly paid position elsewhere.

Wise parents did their best to secure their daughters’ financial security through pre-nuptial marriage settlements. It was vital that these contracts be signed before the marriage—afterwards was too late to escape a fortune-hunter who, through the marriage, had already acquired all his bride owned. In the case of an elopement, or abduction and forced marriage, the most a parent or guardian could do was withhold any promised dowry or future inheritance—a decision unlikely to ensure the future happiness of the bridal couple.

Is it any wonder, then, that when considering matrimony, a sensible woman would give considerable thought to the character of any prospective husband? Was he dependable, kind, considerate, generous, possessed of sufficient means to support her and her children in the style to which she is accustomed? This must be the foundation for any marriage. Not every woman had a choice of suitors. Depending on her family circumstances, she might have to agree to a marriage based less on compatibility or even mutual attraction than on availability coupled with desperation. Think of Charlotte Lucas in Pride and Prejudice, who tells Elizabeth, “All I ask is a comfortable home. Considering Mr. Collins’s character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state.” This was a fair assessment provided she could ignore the fact that he was a pompous fool, obsequious to a fault towards his social superiors and, in particular, his patroness Lady Catherine.

Today, in western societies, it is customary for the sexes to mix freely at school, university, and in the work-place. People start dating in their teens and may have tested several partnerships before committing themselves to matrimony. Women do not need to marry for security or a comfortable home—they can work to provide this for themselves. And, most importantly, if they feel they have made the wrong choice, not only will the law support them in reaching a fair and equitable divorce, it will also protect them against an abusive spouse. But when writing, or indeed reading, historical fiction, we must put all of this out of our minds.

Arabella, heroine of The Potential for Love, is about to embark on her fourth Season; in today’s terms, we would say she is in her final year of university and ready to graduate. She is ready to marry, eager to move on from her life as a dependent daughter, to manage her own household and start a family. A viscount’s daughter with a good dowry, she can expect to marry into a family whose circumstances are as good as or better than her own. But is that what she wants? What is more important to her, the man, or his position? And what sort of a relationship does she want with him? A distant, more formal one of the sort that is not uncommon among the haut ton or the close, loving companionship she has seen in her own family?

Marry in haste, repent at leisure, the old saying goes. The rest of your life is a very long time to be miserable, Arabella’s mother warns her. Yet, given the restrictive etiquette of the time, how can she get to know any man well enough to be sure she can entrust herself and her future children to him? How can she know that he is the right man for her or if he will agree to the sort of marriage she wants?

As the Season progresses, she finds herself pondering these questions more and more. She is courted by several men, including the eldest son and heir of an Earl, a marquess’s younger brother, and an up-and-coming member of parliament. All are eminently eligible, and, initially, at least, she finds each attractive. And then there is Thomas, the rector’s son, an officer newly home for occupied France. She has known him and his parents all her life. She feels comfortable with him.

Thomas, too, has decisions to make. The long war with France is over, the enemy defeated. He has finally come home, but to a country he hardly knows—he has served abroad all his adult life. He is restless. Does he want to be a peace-time soldier, chiefly occupied in ceremonial display, forever ready for action but rarely called upon? Or does he want to serve abroad, the strong arm of an occupying or colonial power? If he leaves the army, what will he do? If he can support a wife and family, where will he find a wife? He may be on calling terms with the Malvins, but their world is not his.

The internal questions that we all must answer when we come to a crossroads in our lives form the underlying theme of The Potential for Love. The decisions become more complex when we fall in love and are obliged to consider not only our own wishes but those of another, special person. And then there are the curve balls that life throws at us. Thomas and Arabella have their share of these, too.

I enjoyed the challenge of resolving Arabella’s and Thomas’s dilemmas while remaining true to the ethos and mores of their time. I hope you enjoy their story.

©Catherine Kullmann 2020

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Catherine Kullmann

I was born and brought up in Dublin and moved to Germany on my marriage in 1973. Before my marriage, I was an administrative officer at the Department of Finance in Dublin. I worked as an attaché at the Irish Embassy in Bonn until my eldest son was born. Following a twelve-year stint as a full-time mother, I joined the New Zealand Embassy in Bonn, where I was an administration officer. My husband and I returned to Ireland in 1999, and in 2009, following a year’s treatment for breast cancer, I took early retirement from my position as Director of Administration and Human Resources at a large Dublin law firm.

I have always enjoyed writing. I love the fall of words, the shaping of an expressive phrase, the satisfaction when a sentence conveys my meaning exactly. I enjoy plotting and revel in the challenge of evoking a historic era for characters who behave authentically in their period while making their actions and decisions plausible and sympathetic to a modern reader. In addition, I am fanatical about language, especially using the right language as it would have been used during the period about which I am writing. But rewarding as all this craft is, there is nothing to match the moment when a book takes flight when your characters suddenly determine the route of their journey.

The first quarter of the nineteenth century was one of the most significant periods of European and American history, a period whose events still resonate two hundred years later The Act of Union between Great Britain and Ireland of 1800, the Anglo-American war of 1812 and the final defeat of Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815 all still shape our modern world. The aristocracy-led society that drove these events was already under attack from those who saw the need for social and political reform, while the industrial revolution saw the beginning of the transfer of wealth and ultimately power to those who knew how to exploit the new technologies.

I write historical fiction set against this background of off-stage wars, of women frequently left to fend for themselves in a patriarchal world where they have few or no rights but must make the best lives they can for themselves and their families. While real people sometimes have walk-on parts, the protagonists and their stories are pure fiction. As well as meeting their personal challenges, they must also cope with external events and the constraints imposed by society. The main story arc is romantic. I am particularly interested in what happens after the first happy end—how life goes on around the protagonists and sometimes catches up with them. 

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