Tag Archives: contemporary

Heroes Old and New: Looking For Charlotte by Jennifer Young (@jynovelist)

tourbutton_lookingforcharlotteLooking For Charlotte is, at heart, a romantic novel in that it’s a novel about love. But that comes with qualifications, because it isn’t just about romantic love, or about sexual love. It’s about all sorts of love — sex and romance come into it, but so does the love of a mother for her children, of one human being for another when they’re strangers to one another.

But although it may trip out of one genre and into another when the time is right, Looking For Charlotte has the things that all romantic novels have — a hero and a heroine. In fact, reader, aren’t you lucky, because you have not one but two of each, a lead and a support.

It’s the heroes I’m talking about today. Let me introduce our main man first up. He isn’t your typical hero. His name is Philip. He’s in his fifties, a solicitor with the driest sense of humour, handsome (in a mid-fifties kind of way). He loves our heroine, Flora — but there’s a problem and that’s his wife. And the problem is that although he loves Flora he loves his wife, too, and his wife has been dead for twenty years.

Enter our supporting hero, the appropriately-named Archie Fortune. Archie is also a solicitor, though a couple of decades younger than Philip and without the emotional baggage. He’s much more of a conventional hero but he has problems of his own, because he falls in love with our supporting heroine, Suzanne and she is the one with the baggage. More specifically, Suzanne’s recent past involves a dead husband and the daughter he murdered before his suicide — so how can she ever love again?

So there are two love stories going on here; Flora and Philip, Suzanne and Archie. There’s an old love story (if I may call it that) and a young love story. Because young people aren’t the only ones to fall in love and (as someone once said) not all heroes wear capes.

I wonder sometimes if there’s a risk involved in writing love stories that are a little out of the ordinary; but I don’t regret it in the least. Most of my romantic plots are about first love, or at least first real love; but in Looking For Charlotte all but one of the main protagonists have long and/or never-to-be-forgotten stories behind them.

Can Philip put his saintly, beloved, dead wife, Joanne, behind him or will she come between him and Flora, whose obsessive search for little lost Charlotte frustrates and unnerves him? And is Archie, unencumbered by the traumas of any serious relationship that’s failed, sufficiently sensitive to overcome Suzanne’s suspicions and teach her to trust again?

Two heroes, then, one traditional (“Well, there was no question that she’d picked the handsome one”), one less so (“He hadn’t always been old-fashioned. Time moved on and some people stayed behind. Sometimes it suited them”). They both face a challenge. Will they both succeed?

 

Excerpt

‘I was married in June.  It’s supposed to be lucky, June. We had the full works. Marquee, ceilidh band, the lot.’ Over the years she’d tried to forget about it, but suddenly it surged up in her mind — dappled sunshine, rose-petal confetti, flower girls, laughter. Lucky horseshoes.

‘Jo and I married in a church on Loch Lomondside. Reception in a local hotel. We even had the view down to the water, just like this. It had snowed the day before. And there was a moon. Gorgeous. ’

She could see that he was just as reluctant to recall the details. Their weddings had been a long time ago. ‘How we must both have changed.’

‘Change happens to everyone in the end. It’s just that it comes to some of us sooner than others.’

‘Yes. Think of poor Suzanne Beauchamp.’

The silence persisted. They moved along the terrace a little way, isolating themselves from the clustered smokers, breath and cigarette-smoke mingling to make a fog of the night air.

‘Actually,’ said Philip, after a moment, ‘I wanted to talk to you about that.’

‘About what?’

‘Suzanne Beauchamp. Though I know this isn’t the time or the place. But you mentioned it.’

‘Go on.’ Of course it was the right time, the right place. It was because of the drink and because of the memories and because it showed he cared.

‘You aren’t going to find that girl.’

‘I might. Charlotte.’ She has a name. She narrowed her lips, her eyes, not in a scowl but in determination.

‘Flora, she’s dead. She could be buried anywhere. You’re chasing some ridiculous shadow for reasons of your own. You’re letting it take over your life.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are. I never see you. You’re always out. You’re always tired. It’s making you unhappy.’

‘It isn’t.’ No, it isnt that.

‘And at the end of the day you won’t find her.’

‘She has to be somewhere.’

‘She does, but you don’t know where. And you won’t find out. How can you? We don’t even know if the clues on his letter were right. He could just have dumped her in a loch somewhere and made up the rest.’

‘He might. Or he might not.’ Flora stared out at the nearest thing to stare at, a few straggly shrub branches, iced and still. If you want to see me you could come with me when I look. He would laugh if she said that, or worse, shrug his shoulders and look away.

‘I think you should drop it before you make a fool of yourself.’ Then, after the silence he said, ‘Sorry. Wrong time, wrong place.’

 

Looking For Charlotte by Jennifer YoungBlurb

Divorced and lonely, Flora Wilson is distraught when she hears news of the death of little Charlotte Anderson. Charlotte’s father killed her and then himself, and although he left a letter with clues to her grave, his two-year-old daughter still hasn’t been found. Convinced that she failed her own children, now grown up and seldom at home, Flora embarks on a quest to find Charlotte’s body to give the child’s mother closure, believing that by doing so she can somehow atone for her own failings.

As she hunts in winter through the remote moors of the Scottish Highlands, her obsession comes to challenge the very fabric of her life — her job, her friendship with her colleague Philip Metcalfe, and her relationships with her three children.

Tirgearr Publishing: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Young_Jennifer/looking-for-charlotte.htm

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1D7pNY6

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JmAwBR

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/526032?ref=cw1985

 

Author bio

I live in Edinburgh and I write romance and contemporary women’s fiction. I’ve been writing all my life and my first book was published in February 2014, though I’ve had short stories published before then. The thing that runs through all my writing is an interest in the world around me. I love travel and geography and the locations of my stories is always important to me. And of course I love reading — anything and everything.

Links

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jenniferyoungauthor

Twitter: @JYnovelist

Website: http://www.jenniferyoungauthor.com/

 

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Out Now – The River’s Embrace by A. Silenus

releaseblitzbutton_riversembraceBlurb:

With her blond tresses and blue eyes, London fabric retailer Margery “Margie” Tull is used to being admired. When she’s hired to decorate a riverside manor house though, she suspects ulterior motives.

Lord of the manor Percival Winstanley reveals a long ago love triangle leading to death and the bewitching of his son and heir Stephen. Margie’s cousin Shyan is supposed to protect her. But he’s lured away by Winstanley’s cougarish housekeeper, Mrs. DePlessey, leaving Margie in the dubious care of servant Kern.

Unsure whom to trust, Margie turns first to artist Raphael Watts, also working at the house. Meanwhile Stephen hovers in the background trying to draw her attention to a cottage across the river. Somehow the women who live there are a portent of Margie’s fate. If only Stephen can convince her of what lies in store Margie can give new hope to the manor and its heir.

 

Buy links:

Barnes & Noble
All Romance eBooks
Amazon UK
Amazon US

TheRiversEmbrace_SM

Excerpt:

Margie crept from the hall to the library and back again. It was the strangest thing how people either were not there when they were wanted or were breathing down your neck and scaring you out of your skin. There seemed no middle way in this house.

She would have to go upstairs. It was the obvious place to look. She started climbing steps, feeling like an intruder and unsure how she would explain why she was snooping around the house if she did find someone. A snigger told her she was on the right track. Tiptoeing across the landing and down a passage way, she homed in on the intertwined voices, Shyan’s wisecracks and Mrs. DePlessey’s purrs of appreciation.

Through the gap between an open bedroom door and the jamb, Margie watched unobserved. Shyan was standing on a foot stool wearing only underwear. Evidently measuring requirements had reached the upper thigh. A crouching Mrs. DePlessey’s glistening nails trailed a tape over the city boy’s pale flanks. Shyan’s muscles tensed as her fingers neared the straining material of his briefs.

“Am I tickling?” The question was made to sound guileless, like a dentist asking “Am I hurting you?”

“Well a bit,” Shyan said. “But it don’t bother me.”

I’ll bet it doesn’t, Margie thought. She was so mad at him. Had he forgotten why he had come? Not to dally with the housekeeper, that’s for sure.

The waistband was the next number on Mrs. DePlessey’s list, and as her arms circumnavigated Shyan’s midriff with the tape measure she could not refrain from rubbing the bangles on her wrists against his bare skin. The metal must have been cold, because Shyan jumped slightly at the touch.

“Oh, I am sorry. Did I do that?”

You calculating bitch, Margie wanted to shriek. She’d seen better acting on the soaps.

But there was nothing simulated about Shyan’s reaction once the tape made contact at the base of his spine. Margie didn’t have to see below his waistband to know his self-control was on the edge. It wouldn’t take much to unbalance him.

All it did take was another move in Mrs. DePlessey’s repertoire of suggestive contact. As her breasts prodded his stomach, ostensibly so she could complete the tape loop, Shyan’s hands descended onto her shoulders. Then the tape was forgotten as her lips came up to meet his. Her clasping arms steadied him on the wobbling stool. They moved to the bed in an uncoordinated tango, and toppled into a grinding embrace. Shyan tackled the buttons on her blouse. His hand groped for the bra clip at her back. He suckled on an inflamed turret of a nipple, with a gusto equal to Ainsworth’s effort during Margie’s previous spying escapade. Then the couple’s hands met and, steered by one or the other—or both—glided in unison down the crevasse between their bodies until they disappeared inside Shyan’s briefs.

Margie was mesmerized. Exasperated as she was by her cousin’s easy compliance, she couldn’t help being fascinated by this mesh of desires. That was why it was so startling when Mrs. DePlessey rolled Shyan to one side and, with a light kiss on the lips, told him, “We must save this.”

Shyan gaped and attempted to insert a hand between her closed thighs.

“For what?” he asked.

She smiled, not in the provocative way Margie half expected, but rather as if Shyan hadn’t understood.

“In time,” she said. “In time.”

 

Author Bio:

Silenus spent his early years in southern England and now lives in Arizona. He writes in various genres under different names. His erotica-oriented material includes three self-published sets of short stories, Fiends That Go Boink, which has otherworldly themes, Obsessions and Two Men And A Woman In A Boat.

Other stories have been published in anthologies, ezines and magazines, including Afternoon Delight (Cleis), The MILF Anthology (Blue Moon), Wicked Pleasures (Ravenous Romance), and Forum magazine in the UK.

For more about Silenus and his work, please go to his blog: Basic Writes: http://asilenus.blogspot.com/

City Nights: One Night in Edinburgh by Charlotte Howard (@Shy_Tiger)

One Night in EdinburghBlurb:

Chloe Shard has travelled to Edinburgh to meet up with a potential client, and has just twenty-four hours to convince them to sign her contract. But when she meets the delicious Ethan, he proves to be so much more than an enticing distraction. It’s not long before Chloe has some life changing decisions to make, and less than a day to make them in.

Buy Links:

Tirgearr Publishing
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Smashwords

releaseblitz_onenightinedinburghExcerpt:

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut as the plane’s wheels bumped along the tarmac, and her stomach lurched into her chest as the brakes were applied. Her ears flooded with the sound of her own heart beating louder than the squealing and screeching of the landing gear. Pressure built in her cheeks as she clenched her teeth together. The worst hour in her life was almost over.

“Welcome to Edinburgh,” said the captain over the speaker system. “We hope you had a pleasant journey and enjoyed the flight. Please remain seated with your seat belts fastened until the light is turned off.”

A chuckle emanated from nearby. Chloe opened one eye and peered at the man in the seat across the aisle from her.

“You can breathe again,” he said in an American accent, flashing her a grin.

“I think I’ll wait until my feet are actually on the ground if it’s all the same to you,” she replied, leaning back into the headrest.

A loud ping was followed by a Mexican wave of clicking as the passengers released their seat belts and fought to get their bags and rush off the plane. Chloe undid her own belt then hurriedly squished herself into the seat as an oversized belly, violently stretching at a pale green shirt, began its invasion of her breathing space. Her shoulder was nudged as the impatient woman beside her stood up, hunching under the overhead compartment.

She waited for the plane to empty. The impatient woman started huffing and tutting. Chloe looked up apologetically, but was met with a hardened glare.

“Here,” said the man from opposite. She turned her gaze towards him and was grateful to see him holding back a herd of cattle desperate to depart. She drank him in for a second. He was broad enough to act as a barrier between her and the crowd. A very attractive barrier. From the way his T-shirt stretched over his biceps, she could tell that his width was certainly not due to being overweight. Ink spiralled around his skin from beneath the short sleeve, tracing down to his elbow.

“Thank you.” She stepped into the aisle. Immediately, the woman from beside her shoved herself through the gap, knocking Chloe into the man’s chest with an oof!

“I’m so sorry!” she said, stepping back and turning to the overhead compartments, feeling her cheeks heat. Her fingers tingled with the memory of his muscular chest beneath them.
Charlotte HowardAuthor Bio:

British author Charlotte Howard, was born in Oman and spent much of the first part of her life flitting between Oman, Scotland, and England. Now settled in Somerset, Charlotte lives with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets.

Her career as a writer began at an early age, with a poem being featured in an anthology for the East Midlands. Since then Charlotte has written many short stories and poems, and finally wrote her first full-length piece of fiction in 2010.

During what little spare time she has, Charlotte enjoys reading and writing (of course), spending time with her family, and watching action movies whilst eating curry and drinking tea.

Charlotte is an active member of Yeovil Creative Writers.

 

Social Media / Website links:

http://www.charlottehowardauthor.co.uk

http://choward2614.wordpress.com

http://facebook.com/charlottehowardauthor

http://twitter.com/Shy_Tiger

Instagram: Choward_author

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/choward2614

 

Out Now – Timeless Desire by Lucy Felthouse @cw1985 #erotica #romance #paranormal #ghost

Timeless DesireBlurb:

Emily arrives at Westbury Hall with a job to do. She’s to clean and conserve all of the books in their impressive library, preserving them for future generations. Not long into her stay at the house, she bumps into the night guard, George. She’d expected an old, balding guy with a comb over, so the hunky chap she actually meets is a very pleasant surprise. The introductions complete, George leaves Emily in peace to get on with her job. But when a falling photograph sets off a chain reaction of ghostly events, Emily and George are thrown together in order to find out who—or what—is causing them. Their investigation uncovers a tragic past, a lost love, and a stunning secret.

PLEASE NOTE: This is a revised and extended of a previously published title, Love Through Time.

Available from: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/timeless-desire/

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22911436-timeless-desire

*****

Excerpt:

Emily received some strange looks and frowns from the people she passed as she walked across the graveled drive towards the front entrance of Westbury Hall. She could appreciate their confusion. It was closing time for the stately home and the last of the visitors were being politely ushered out of the building, yet she was heading inside. What’s more, she’d been invited. She had a job to do.

An elderly lady stood in the porch smiling and nodding as she held the door open for those departing the property. Most of them seemed in no hurry to leave, stopping to make comments to the woman, thanking her for a lovely visit and so on. Emily waited patiently, allowing the patrons to leave before attempting to get in. When the staff member—most likely a volunteer, Emily thought—caught sight of her, she gave her a polite nod of acknowledgment.

Finally, the last of Westbury Hall’s visitors moved out, leaving Emily free to enter. Climbing the single stone step to the threshold of the front porch, she took the hand that had already been offered to her.

Shaking Emily’s hand with a surprising firmness, the woman said, “You must be Miss Stone.” Her smart appearance and the intelligence in her eyes indicated that despite her advancing age, she was far from past it, “I’m Mrs. Thompson, house supervisor.”

“I am,” replied Emily, dropping her hand back to her side, “but please, call me Emily. It’s lovely to meet you. So, house supervisor? Do you live on site?” Not a volunteer, then, but a paid member of staff.

Indicating Emily should step inside the entrance hall, Mrs. Thompson proceeded to close and lock the porch and front doors of the house, securing them in.

“I do,” the older woman said, turning back to face Emily, “I have rooms in a separate building just off the back of this one. So you needn’t worry about me disturbing you.”

“Oh no,” said Emily, worried she’d inadvertently rubbed Mrs.  Thompson up the wrong way, “I didn’t mean that. I was just curious, that’s all. You’re more than welcome to see me at work, Mrs. Thompson, although I’m afraid you won’t see anything terribly exciting.”

Mrs. Thompson smiled now, the warmth reaching her eyes. Emily almost sagged with relief. She’d yet to see the extent of the work she had to do, but she’d been told it was no easy task, so she could be here for some time. The last thing she needed was to upset any of the staff.

“Oh, you’d be surprised, my dear. This is a fascinating old place. Of course, all these old houses have history, but Westbury Hall’s is particularly rich.”

Emily smiled. The woman’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Well then,” she replied, “I can’t wait to learn more about it. I hope you’ll feed me some historical tidbits throughout the time I’m here?”

Mrs. Thompson gave an enigmatic smile. Then, startling Emily somewhat, she turned smartly on her heel and walked deeper into the house. “Come, my dear, I won’t hold you up any longer. I’ll show you to the library, where you’ll soon start uncovering Westbury’s illustrious history for yourself.”

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Ghostly Encounters by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

thingsthatgohump300x200I love a good paranormal, whether it’s about vampires, shapeshifters, succubi or ghosts. I love the variety you can play with – your characters can inhabit completely different worlds with different rules… or they can live alongside humans in our “normal” world, our reality. The latter is what I went with when I wrote Timeless Desire, which in a previous life was called Love Through Time. I recently republished it, as I got the rights back when one of my publishers went under. It’s been rewritten and reedited so is a slightly different tale to the one that went before.

The story encompasses several of my very favourite things… libraries, books, hunky men, stately homes, history, and ghostly encounters. That last one I’ll stick to just in fiction, though.

Timeless Desire is a story with lots of facets—it’s contemporary, but also paranormal. It’s set in modern day, but a big part of the plot harks back to World War II. The main characters just met, and while it’s not instalove, there’s a promise of more to come. Throw in some sections that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I wrote them, and you’ve got a quirky little tale that reviewers have described as “clever” “a wonderful novella filled with suspense, undying love, and drama,” and “a delightful ghost story.”

So, if you like yourself some ghostly encounters and a quirky romance that will pluck at your heartstrings, then check out Timeless Desire.

Happy Reading!

Lucy x

*****

Excerpt:

Emily received some strange looks and frowns from the people she passed as she walked across the graveled drive towards the front entrance of Westbury Hall. She could appreciate their confusion. It was closing time for the stately home and the last of the visitors were being politely ushered out of the building, yet she was heading inside. What’s more, she’d been invited. She had a job to do.

An elderly lady stood in the porch smiling and nodding as she held the door open for those departing the property. Most of them seemed in no hurry to leave, stopping to make comments to the woman, thanking her for a lovely visit and so on. Emily waited patiently, allowing the patrons to leave before attempting to get in. When the staff member—most likely a volunteer, Emily thought—caught sight of her, she gave her a polite nod of acknowledgment.

Finally, the last of Westbury Hall’s visitors moved out, leaving Emily free to enter. Climbing the single stone step to the threshold of the front porch, she took the hand that had already been offered to her.

Shaking Emily’s hand with a surprising firmness, the woman said, “You must be Miss Stone.” Her smart appearance and the intelligence in her eyes indicated that despite her advancing age, she was far from past it, “I’m Mrs. Thompson, house supervisor.”

“I am,” replied Emily, dropping her hand back to her side, “but please, call me Emily. It’s lovely to meet you. So, house supervisor? Do you live on site?” Not a volunteer, then, but a paid member of staff.

Indicating Emily should step inside the entrance hall, Mrs. Thompson proceeded to close and lock the porch and front doors of the house, securing them in.

“I do,” the older woman said, turning back to face Emily, “I have rooms in a separate building just off the back of this one. So you needn’t worry about me disturbing you.”

“Oh no,” said Emily, worried she’d inadvertently rubbed Mrs.  Thompson up the wrong way, “I didn’t mean that. I was just curious, that’s all. You’re more than welcome to see me at work, Mrs. Thompson, although I’m afraid you won’t see anything terribly exciting.”

Mrs. Thompson smiled now, the warmth reaching her eyes. Emily almost sagged with relief. She’d yet to see the extent of the work she had to do, but she’d been told it was no easy task, so she could be here for some time. The last thing she needed was to upset any of the staff.

“Oh, you’d be surprised, my dear. This is a fascinating old place. Of course, all these old houses have history, but Westbury Hall’s is particularly rich.”

Emily smiled. The woman’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Well then,” she replied, “I can’t wait to learn more about it. I hope you’ll feed me some historical tidbits throughout the time I’m here?”

Mrs. Thompson gave an enigmatic smile. Then, startling Emily somewhat, she turned smartly on her heel and walked deeper into the house. “Come, my dear, I won’t hold you up any longer. I’ll show you to the library, where you’ll soon start uncovering Westbury’s illustrious history for yourself.”

*****

Timeless DesireBlurb:

Emily arrives at Westbury Hall with a job to do. She’s to clean and conserve all of the books in their impressive library, preserving them for future generations. Not long into her stay at the house, she bumps into the night guard, George. She’d expected an old, balding guy with a comb over, so the hunky chap she actually meets is a very pleasant surprise. The introductions complete, George leaves Emily in peace to get on with her job. But when a falling photograph sets off a chain reaction of ghostly events, Emily and George are thrown together in order to find out who—or what—is causing them. Their investigation uncovers a tragic past, a lost love, and a stunning secret.

PLEASE NOTE: This is a revised and extended of a previously published title, Love Through Time.

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/timeless-desire/

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22911436-timeless-desire

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

*****

GIVEAWAY!

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