My latest Regency romance novel, The Duke and Miss Amabel Hawkins, has just been released by Musa Publishing!
There’s a particular thrill that happens to the author when a completed novel is released to the reading public. From the first glimmer of an idea to the sweat and tears of plotting, to the final edits, a writer thinks and hopes his/her ideas will be received favorably by the readers. My story is not unusual. Of course, I enjoyed the plotting. I love anything Regency. The genre, covering a particular time in English history (1811-1820), is ripe for romance. It’s a time of manners, of grace, and of witty conversation. Handsome men with bulging thigh muscles on awesome steeds and lovely ladies in breathtaking gowns who use their fans to flirt inhabit the story lines of Regency Romances.
An introduction to The Duke and Miss Amabel Hawkins…
After a year’s absence, a ruggedly handsome duke comes home from chasing his country’s spies to find a lovely but meddlesome female firmly in charge of his household. Worse, she has no idea why he is so upset. His estate matters were in dreadful array. He needn’t thank her, but why is he yelling so loudly? And the race is on. Can an arrogant duke manage to see through the unusual upbringing of this interesting female to find the love that she offers? There will surely be a few fireworks before all these conflicts are resolved and the two find their happily ever after.
Excerpt: Fatigue and the effects of the brandy on top of the ale now gave his gait a distinct wobble. He chuckled, amused at his condition.
As he reached for the portrait of great Uncle Barney, he lurched into the back of the red leather sofa in front of the cosy fire. “Deuce take it,” he exclaimed when a rounded arm rolled into view. He spotted the gentle curve of a hip and walked around to the front, where he spied a tumbled haze of dark curls hiding a face. It is indeed a female—a sleeping female.
Who was she? The gown was too rich for his household staff. Curious, he knelt beside the sofa.
“Only one way to find out,” he whispered and moved one dark curl. He sat back, satisfied when a handsome face swam into view. She sighed and rolled over, revealing a generous figure and a pair of rosy lips. She might be Sleeping Beauty—but not one of my relatives. He leaned over and kissed those tempting lips.
As he lingered there, she sighed and came partially awake. He could not resist. He deepened the kiss and sounds of satisfaction like yum and umm came from those delicious lips. Her hand stroked his face, then reached around his head to pull him closer. Delighted with this turn of events, the Duke of Westerton complied enthusiastically and extended an arm around a slender waist. How much of the ale and brandy had he imbibed? Dizziness overcame his senses as he slid down on the floor and knew no more.
Emma J Lane 