Book Blitz & Giveaway for The Forged Empire by Samantha Gillespie

The Forged Empire

Samantha Gillespie

(The Kingdom Within, #3)

Publication date: July 15th, 2025

Genres: Historical Romance, Young Adult

She married a prince. She loved a soldier.

Now she must decide what she’s willing to sacrifice to save them all.

As the specter of war looms, Meredith Ethan, and Connor are thrust into a final, desperate struggle for freedom. With Stonefall reclaimed and the plague’s grip finally broken, they must now race to forge new alliances before Theros-the ruthless King of Talos-brings his twisted vision of an empire to life.

But Theros’s ambitions run deeper than conquest-and Meredith is at the heart of his plans.

As betrayals mount and loyalties are tested, she finds herself caught between the prince she married and the soldier she never forgot.

And beneath the weight of destiny, Meredith must decide who she truly is:

a queen who must learn to believe in her own strength… or a pawn in a game she can no longer control.

In a war where survival means sacrifice, the price of freedom may be everything.

The final battle is here. And only one legacy will endure.

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EXCERPT:

A tremor starts in my hands again, subtle but insistent. I clench my fists, willing it to stop.

“My lady?” Anabella appears near the foot of the staircase, her wide eyes fixed on me, worry plain in her gaze.

My pulse pounds harder in my ears, and the air feels thick, suffocating. A bead of sweat traces a line down my temple, and I lift a trembling hand to brush it away. The motion betrays me. My uncle’s eyes narrow, alarm darkening his expression.

“You’re quite pale,” he remarks, his voice softer now but no less authoritative. “Sit down before you fall.”

“I’m fine,” I say, gritting my teeth. “It’s just a dizzy spell—”

The room wavers, and a sharp pain lances through my temple. I dig my nails into the carved wood of a nearby table, struggling to stay upright. Voices fade into a muffled roar behind the pounding in my ears. My legs threaten to buckle, yet I take a step forward . . . feeling as if the crown itself is dragging me down.

“Meredith!” Anabella cries out, her fear breaking through decorum. She rushes forward, but someone stops her—a hand grabbing her arm, likely my uncle’s.

“No one is to approach her!” The command explodes from my uncle’s throat like a war cry, freezing everyone mid-step. “She was inoculated this morning—she could be infected!”

Infected.

Understanding dawns like poison spreading through my veins. They think the inoculation failed. They think I’m a walking plague, a vector of death.

Am I?

My knees buckle as the implications cascade through my mind. The room warps and tilts, faces stretching into grotesque masks of fear and revulsion.

“Please, let me help her!” Anabella’s voice cracks with desperation, cutting through the growing pandemonium. “She’s fainting—she needs—”

My uncle stops her. “Stay where you are, woman, or I’ll have you restrained!”

I struggle to form reassurances, denials, anything. But my tongue lies thick and useless in my mouth. The marble floor begins its inexorable rise to meet me, my legs folding like paper beneath my weight. Colors bleed together, the world smearing into an impressionist nightmare.

“Get the physician! Now!” My uncle’s bellow seems to come from very far away, echoing down a tunnel of gathering darkness.

I’m falling—but suddenly strong arms encircle me, crushing me against a chest that thunders with someone else’s racing heartbeat. The scent of leather and pine fills my fading senses, achingly familiar.

“Get away from her!” the duke roars. “You fool—you’re putting yourself at risk! Guards, pull him back!”

“Try it.” Connor’s voice is a low growl. “See what happens.”

The threat hangs in the air, electric with promise. Even through my fading consciousness, I feel the tension ratchet higher, guards hesitating at the challenge in his tone.

Through the narrow slits of my barely-open eyes, I see Connor’s face swimming above me, those midnight-blue eyes fierce with determination. His jaw is set in stone, daring anyone to test him. His lips move urgently, forming words that reach me only as distant whispers, lost in the roaring tide of unconsciousness.

The last thing I register is his arms tightening around me, unyielding as iron, before the darkness swallows me whole.

Author Bio:

Samantha Gillespie writes the kind of romantasy novels she loves to read: stories packed with forbidden love, slow-burn tension, and just enough angst to keep you up way past your bedtime.

She lives in Houston with her husband and their ever-expanding menagerie—cats who've crowned themselves royalty, a dog with strong opinions about the weather, and chickens whose sole mission is acquiring treats and destroying the yard. When she's not breaking hearts through fiction, she thrives on copious amounts of coffee, sharp wit, and the delicious tears of her devoted readers.

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Blitz & Giveaway for Sarah by Shanna Hatfield

Sarah

Shanna Hatfield

Publication date: May 22nd, 2025

Genres: Adult, Historical Romance

She desires his heart.

He longs for her love.

Can they find common ground when he returns forever altered by the war.

In a world turned upside down by World War I, all Sarah Richards desires is to love Brett Rawlings and build a future together. After graduating high school a year early, she’s ready to dive into her dreams of college and a home filled with laughter and love. But one impulsive decision threatens all her aspirations—as well as her relationship with Brett.

As the war rages on and men head off to fight, sixteen-year-old Brett reluctantly follows his twin brother, Ben, sneaking off to France to join the American Expeditionary Forces. As the months pass, Ben thrives amidst the chaos of battle, while Brett finds himself haunted by the girl he left behind and the uncertainty of his own heart. When Ben reveals a life-altering secret, the bond between the brothers is shattered, forcing Brett to grapple with betrayal as he faces the brutal realities of war.

Brett returns home a changed man, burdened with memories too heavy to bear, yet yearning to mend the fractures of the past. Will Sarah still be waiting for him, or have time and truth forged an unbridgeable chasm between them?

Find out in this heartfelt historical romance that weaves a tale of hope, grace, forgiveness, and sweet, enduring love.

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EXCERPT:

“You have feathers for brains,” Sarah berated herself as Brett closed the distance between them. She accepted the hug he gave her as the impact of how deeply Ben—and inadvertently she—had betrayed him abruptly hit her. The realization of what she’d done made her head begin to pound.

“I’m so glad you came, Sarah. I stopped by to see you earlier, but your mother said you were out, although she didn’t seem to know where. I looked around town and in our usual spots but couldn’t find you,” Brett said, pulling back and giving her a curious glance.

“I’m sorry. I had a busy day,” she said. It had been busy. Sneaking around, being deceived, and making the biggest mistake of her life had taken the entire day.

Brett offered her a smile of such tender warmth, she wanted to burst into tears and confess what had happened. Only she couldn’t. It would ruin the trip, if not cancel it, and Brett had been excited about spending the summer with his grandparents. There would be time enough to sort out all the complicated details when the twins returned in August.

Three months away from Ben might be long enough for her raging wrath to reach a simmering point instead of teetering on the edge of it boiling over at any second.

“I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye. I hope you,” she emphasized the word and cast a withering glare at Ben before looking back at Brett, “enjoy your time with your grandparents this summer.”

A shadow passed over Brett’s face, but it was there and gone so quickly, she began to wonder if she’d simply imagined it.

“I’m sure we will. I hope you have a wonderful summer, Sarah Beth.” Brett was the only one who called her that, and every time he said it, her insides felt warm. He leaned down and placed his lips close to Sarah’s ear, making her heart pound in her chest. “No matter what happens, don’t ever forget how much I love you.”

“I won’t. Remember I love you, Brett,” she said, speaking around the sudden tightness in her throat. How could she profess her love to him after what she’d done with Ben? If a bolt of lightning shot out of the sky to strike her down where she stood, she knew she deserved it.

Author Bio:

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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Blitz & Giveaway for A Sleigh Ride For Charlotte by Sarah Lamb

A Sleigh Ride For Charlotte

Sarah Lamb

Publication date: August 13th, 2024

Genres: Adult, Historical, Historical Romance, Holiday, Romance

Sometimes the simple choice isn’t easy.

Charlotte Harrison dreams of being part of the winter festival, where romance fills the air and new starts are made. Penniless after her family was swindled, she’s always stayed home, unwilling to be looked at with pity. But this year Charlotte is desperate and willing to do whatever it takes to be there when she hears the most eligible man in town has his eye on her.

New to town, Dr. Justin Davis is in dire need of someone to assist him at his practice. When Charlotte is suggested, it seems like an opportunity for them both. At first, he simply wants to help her financial situation. But against his better judgment, he falls in love with her. Worst of all, the man she desires is someone he can’t stand, and he might have just sent her straight into his arms.

Through a series of surprising events, Charlotte learns that not everyone is as they seem, and when she goes to give her heart away, she’s faced with uncertainty. Who is she going to choose? The man she’s been longing for? Or the man who truly loves her?

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EXCERPT:

“Doctor, I know. I know that you are in love with Charlotte. I also know that the gifts she’s gotten have been from you, not August.”

This wasn’t at all what he’d expected her to say. Justin stiffened, though he tried to remain calm. “I beg your pardon?”

I beg your pardon? That was the best he could do? The only thing he could think of to say?

“Yes,” she told him. “A mother sees things. You need to tell Charlotte how you feel.”

It struck him then. She was twisting her hands and looking anxious because she was upset. Of course she was. Her daughter, one who was both beautiful and of marrying age was working for him. They were alone, and it was likely she suspected him of acting inappropriately.

He had to set things right.

“Mrs. Harrison, I promise you that in no way have I compromised your daughter’s reputation,” he started.

“And why not?” she asked, surprising him.

“Wh-why not?”

“If you had, then we could have married the two of you, been rid of that horrid August Middleton and whatever plan he has for my Charlotte. You care for her, don’t you?”

“I do,” he said, panic rising in him. This wasn’t a conversation he’d thought to have.

“Then why,” she urged, “won’t you tell her? Why do you let her think that scoundrel has sent her those thoughtful gifts? You must say something to her. Especially before it’s too late.”

Justin was silent for a moment. When he looked into Mrs. Harrison’s face, all he saw was compassion. It made him want to tell her. To confess everything in his heart.

“My dear boy,” she said quietly. “You care so much for her. So, why?”

“I’m not who she wants. It’s him, not me,” he suddenly burst out, pacing. All of his hurt, all of his insecurities and fears and upset rushed out of him. Now that the flood had started, he couldn’t hold it back.

“I’m not rich, I’m not handsome. I have nothing to offer. A doctor with his first practice—a new one at that—in a small town is not wealthy. Why, half of my patients don’t pay me in coin, but in service or food. I couldn’t give her all she deserves.”

“What does she deserve?” Charlotte’s mother asked, placing her hands in her lap, while her eyes never left his.

“She deserves someone who loves her. Who can give her what she desires. Who can care for her and protect her and…and I am none of those things.” He gestured wildly, hoping his hands would convey his desperation. “The only way that I can protect her is by staying away.”

Justin lowered his head and whispered, “If I don’t, he will hurt you both.”

Author Bio:

Sarah is wife to an amazing teacher and mom to two boys who are growing up just a little too fast. Her day job is helping others to become writers, while she squeezes in each spare moment she can on her own books. She spends her days working and writing in the Blue Ridge Mountains and planning her next trip to Disney World.

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Blitz & Giveaway for Viscount Overboard by Misty Urban

Viscount Overboard

Misty Urban

(Ladies Least Likely, #1)

Published by: Oliver Heber Books

Publication date: December 5th 2023

Genres: Adult, Historical Romance, Romance

When the war-scarred Viscount Penrydd washes up in 1799 Newport minus his memory, Gwenllian ap Ewyas decides not to tell him he owns, and threatened to sell, the property she’s made a refuge for her and other lost souls.

Gwen found healing from her haunted past by making St. Sefin’s into a sanctuary for the hurt and abandoned, and she’ll do anything to preserve the place—including lie to the English lord who owns it until she can win him to her cause. But making Penrydd her stableboy is a dangerous game, especially when he’s a target for an outside menace moving into Newport. Even more unsettling for Gwen, under the scars and arrogance is a man she can admire and possibly love. But as shadows from both their pasts appear at St. Sefin’s, Gwen risks losing her livelihood, her home, and her heart when Penrydd learns just how far she’s gone to deceive him.

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EXCERPT:

In which Gwen approaches the viscount to offer to buy his property, and he thinks she’s soliciting something else.

“Lord Penrydd?”

Pen’s boots hit the floor as he sat up. Speaking of pleasure. His capricious God had consented to smile on him for once. The most exquisite female-shaped creature he had ever beheld stood at the parlor door.

She wasn’t dressed like a lady of the night. Her petticoat was clean and white, over it a gown of buttermilk muslin trailing vines of red flowers. It was a quaint style, quite outdated, but one that followed a woman’s curves. A delicate lace crossed her bodice, tied at her back. He wanted to unwrap her, like a present.

An absurd cap of lace and silk roses covered curls of a dusty brown, the color of the paths at his favorite hunting property when they had baked in the sunlight on a summer afternoon. Her face was extraordinary. She didn’t have the pasty complexion of a woman who never went about in the sun, rather a healthy glow and the tiniest dusting of freckles along a nose that suggested a personality both strong and pert. Independently the wide thick-lashed eyes, high cheekbones, lush lips, and arrowed jaw were pleasing yet unremarkable, but put together, the effect was mesmerizing.

“Fifty pounds,” Pen blurted.

Her eyes rounded in surprise. They were some shifting, undefined color, the grey-green of the sea on a cloudy morning. Was she worth more? “A night,” he added. He’d pay anything. He wasn’t even going to pretend to negotiate.

His secretary, Ross, raised his thick brows. Pen ignored him, as usual.

“A night?” Her voice rang clear and fine, trained, the voice of a singer. But her tone held dismay. The lace over her bosom fluttered as she put a hand there. Long, delicate fingers, a fine-boned wrist with an elegant turn. He stared at her hands and imagined them trailing over his skin.

His rough, scarred, contemptible skin. “Not enough? Name your price.”

“I hadn’t arrived at a number, actually. I suppose I ought to have asked Mr. Barlow.”

Who was Barlow? Her flesh broker? Her go between? Pen envied the man who had any hold over her. But she had a proud tilt to her head, that of an independent woman who answered to no one. He’d make her forget Barlow. He’d make her forget everything but her name. What was her name?

“In truth, I’m not certain what the going rate for such things is,” she said.

Pen’s head reeled with a grand, desperate notion. She wasn’t a hedge whore or a public ledger, open to all comers. But a lady of easy virtue nonetheless, perhaps a high flyer or a quality courtesan. Pen wiped his sweating palms on his breeches. He couldn’t afford her. Look at her skin; she wasn’t starving or diseased, nor beaten into submission. Her eyes were clear and steady, if her expression was somewhat baffled, and she smelled like spring. A field of bluebells filled his mind, kissed by a warm sun.

Ah, God. For the first time he understood why a man would go to the trouble of keeping a mistress. So he could have sole access whenever he wished and keep her hidden from the outside world. He swallowed. How could he manage to keep her? Most of the letters on Ross’s blasted table were bills and accounts of some sort, reminders of funds his rotter of a brother had died owing.

“I’m certain we can come to an agreement.” Pen’s voice scratched his throat. Where was the boy with the rum? The tremor was starting again, but the need this time was not for alcohol. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted anything that had to do with another person. Wanted closeness. Affection. Approval.

Ah, yes. He’d wanted affection from his mother, approval from his father, company and camaraderie from his brother. And the evil-minded universe had laughed in his face and stretched him out upon the rack. Pen sweated underneath his neckcloth and worked with a finger to loosen it. This woman wouldn’t be withholding, mocking, or cruel. She was warm and soft all over, inside and out.

She blew out a stream of air and Pen stared, arrested by the shape of her anemone-red lips. They would purse in exactly that fashion when he kissed her.

“I don’t suppose you would consider simply giving it to me,” she said. “Out of charity, you know.”

Giving her—oh, he’d any number of notions of what he could give her. Starting with certain attentive parts of his body. Then the rest, all of him, for eternity.

Author Bio:

Misty Urban is a medieval scholar, freelance editor, and college professor who likes to write stories about misbehaving women who find adventure and romance. She holds an MFA and Ph.D. from Cornell University and lives in the Midwest in a little town on a big river.

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Release Tour for The Wounded Healer by Kelly Ann Scott

Title: The Wounded Healer

Series: The Gifted Highlanders, Book 2

Author: Kelly Ann Scott

Genre: Historical Romance

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Opposites Attract, Fated Love

Release Date: October 6, 2023

War Vs. Peace

The last thing warrior Robert Mackenzie wants is to be known for his gifs as a healer. Determined to escape his past, he joins the rebellion against King James III intent to cause injuries, not cure them. But, instead of fighting, he’s asked to heal wounded men. Worse, he must spy on a suspicious band of travellers—a group that includes a far-too-alluring, peace-loving woman.

Spy Vs. Spy

Heather Gordon is tired of roaming the world with travellers, even if it has kept her safe from an unspeakable threat. She dreams to settle in a land at peace, so when a relative suggests she take a serving wench job to spy on rebels and help avert war, she readily agrees. But she’s unaware of the temptation she’ll face upon meeting a handsome Highlander whom she shouldn’t trust, even if he makes her long for what she’s never had.

Mind Vs. Heart

The more time Robert and Heather spend together, the more their animosity turns to curiosity, then to passion. But ghosts from the past linger, threatening to ruin a fragile connection before love can flourish. Can two wary souls learn to trust and unite against heartless enemies before it’s too late?

Scottish Highlands, 6.5 miles west of Inverness, 11 April 1488

"Deliver me from those who love me," Robert Mackenzie muttered to himself.

He discarded the prayer-like request a moment later because there was no one to address it. God would not understand such a wish. Worse, Satan might misunderstand it.

With a final, needlessly vigorous knot, he secured his belongings to his horse's saddle. Satisfied by the strap's solidity—a must for the long riding days awaiting them—he made one last mental stock of his bundle's content. Clothes? Good. Cotun padded armour and shield? Check. Freshly baked bannocks, cheese, and ale? Aye. And, of most import, his weapons? All there.

What else did a man need to join a rebellion?

His best friend and foster brother, Thomas Macrae, stood by his own mount with arms folded over his chest. "You cannot ignore them much longer, Robbie."

Vexed by the failure of his I'm-too-busy-to-look pretence, he grunted. "I know."

"They have been waiting there for awhile," his dark-haired companion added.

Without glancing, he knew to whom Thomas referred. Mist combined with dawn's pale light to shroud the keep's entrance and distort those standing there to wraiths.

Still, even in the darkest of nights, Robert would have identified those two men.

"God's bones," he mumbled, discarding the vague sense of being caught avoiding a conflict. "Why can't we just head to war in peace? After last evening's feast for our departure, I assumed we could leave quietly this morn."

Thomas shook his head. "They just want to bid you one last farewell. You are lucky to have kith and kin who love you enough to do so."

Comfort warmed Robert's soul. Out of habit, he did not allow it to transform into a smile. "I'm aware of it. But let it never be known."

Kelly Ann’s passport is Canadian, yet her spiritual home is in Scotland. That’s where her soul was born. And that’s only one of the many dualities that makes her a walking contradiction.

She was a member of the Canadian Armed Forces for thirteen years, but she’s a peaceful person who loves nothing more than a romance novel. Couldn’t love be the answer to wars?

Her Maternal language is French, but as she reads mostly in English, she writes in that language. Moreover, it allows her to help other authors if they need snippets from la langue de l’amour.

She teaches pre-hospital care to adults and take the endeavour seriously, but she can be a clown when relaxing—or when teaching; her andragogy style requires some acting skills!

She dislikes the sight of blood and the concept of suffering, but she’s faced with it often since she’s a medical responder for her municipality’s fire department. She also doesn’t mind putting her characters straight into epic physical battles.

There are many other contradictions about her but to know them all, you would need to ask her wonderful husband, William. Hem…. On second thought, do NOT ask him; she’s afraid of what he might tell you!

Joining two specifics, different parts of her character led her to her writing career:

The warrior side of her saw Bosnia Herzegovina’s civil war, fights MS every day, trains hard to stay fit and defies conventions by working in predominantly male environments, either in the fire department where she responds to emergency calls of in the Maritime fields where she teaches.

The poet facet of her dreams of glens and lochs, imagines falcons hunting on desolate moors, devises settings where sea breeze flows and mist lingers, ponders on a time when loyalty was inbred in you, and revels in childhood memories of a beloved father who adored history, Scotland and Ireland. Merci papa, for transmitting that love to me.

Historical romance is her favourite genre so she joined RWA (Romance Writers of America) in 2014 and HHRW (Hearts Through History Romance Writers) shortly after. Her first book, The Blind Seer, finaled in two contests; HHRW’s Romance Through The Ages, and Indiana Romance Writers’ Indiana Golden Opportunity.

Her stories and characters spring from the British Isles in the Medieval era, she loves to ask herself: “What if that historical event happened due to ________?” She then fills in the blank!

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Blitz & Giveaway for A Hospital in the Clouds by Mhairead MacLeod

A Hospital in the Clouds

Mhairead MacLeod

Publication date: April 27th 2023

Genres: Adult, Historical, Historical Romance

CAN ANNA OUTRUN HER PAST?

Reinventing herself as a nurse in the tropical frontier of Australia, healing her soldier-lover, raising her unruly daughter – these are just a few of the challenges Anna Sinclair, a young suffragette, faces while on the run from the law back in Scotland.

As she struggles to establish her own hospital, her past draws closer and risks exposure of her shameful secret, along with the loss of everything she holds dearest.

Will everything she desires be achieved, or crumble around her?

“A powerful and perceptive depiction of love in the wake of war and trauma.” Nadine Davidoff, Freelance Editor

“A story about confronting and overcoming trauma within history… It had me turning the pages in a frenzy. Absolutely captivating!” Sandra, Indie Book reviewer

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EXCERPT:

When I saw Tom Austen that March morning of 1918, I knew there was something about him I recognised, something shared. It was in his expression as he let me dress his foot, rotten and black around stumps of cartilage where his toes had been surgically removed. He held in the pain, hissing through clenched teeth.

I drew the screen and squeezed a fresh cloth into a warm basin of water. ‘Here, Lieutenant Austen, I’ll help you off with your things.’

His shirt was damp with sweat, his pants soaked with urine.

‘Do you need to use the bedpan?’

‘Too late.’

As I pulled off his pyjamas his hand went to cover his crotch.

‘You should be used to this by now,’ I said, handing him a towel.

I wiped his face, the fair chin stubble uneven from alopecia, then massaged the washer gently down his chest, across red shrapnel scars and under his arms.

‘I was quite a hairy bugger until the war,’ he said.

‘Why didn’t you stay in England until your recovery?’

‘Must have been homesick. And Australian nurses are much prettier.’

We’d heard that old line from the soldiers many times, as if they were determined to assure us they were still virile men inside those broken bodies. We nurses usually played along – it was our job to heal, after all. But it was more than a job, more than just providing moral support and sympathy. We were part of their new family, we sisters who cared for them day and night. But the men we tended in the Injured Veterans’ Ward of the Cairns District Hospital were only a few of the hundreds who’d been shipped up to regional centres. It made room down south for the newly-arrived from Passchendaele, Pozières, Villers- Brettoneux, Lagnicourt – exotic names these men had no trouble pronouncing.

‘How lucky am I, eh? Shelled with phosgene. Didn’t realise what was happening. Thought I’d landed back home in a vat of newly picked corn – that’s what it smelt like. Didn’t feel it at first, then couldn’t breathe for the life of me. Crawled around, found my gas mask. Got patched up and sent back. Took another hiding from Fritz. Now this bloody trench foot.’

He made his butchering sound like a jaunty boy’s adventure, but I knew the truth. One night when the other men were asleep, I had found him, drawn back into that dark underworld, his body curled into a tight ball, his shoulders shaking.

A fly crawled over the bed, attracted by the rot that even disinfectant swabs couldn’t wash out. I flicked it away. ‘Your lungs are healing, Lieutenant. Our tropical weather will help. And you will get better, you hear?’ There was a liver-coloured wound at his neck, fading into scar tissue. At first, I suspected shrapnel damage, but when I looked closer, it resembled the more rounded scar of a bullet. ‘How did you get that?’

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at me. ‘I can see what you’re thinking. So, don’t say it.’

‘Say what?’

‘That I’m really quite a lucky chap.’

‘I wasn’t going to.’

‘Then you’d be the first. That’s the platitude they come up with.’ He coughed, and the pain from his burned lungs made him slump back as he squeezed his eyes tight, shutting everything out. ‘Bloody carbolic floors,’ he said.

It was supposed to be a quick wipe down before I changed the basin and cloths for the next patient, but I slowed the process a little, the water wringing and splashing, sponging and soothing the pale landscape of violence. I patted dry the tattooed profile on his bicep. ‘She’s a pretty one. With her dark blue hair flying around.’

‘On leave with the battalion when I had that done. Got myself blotto. Didn’t have a girl to write home to, so I thought I’d carry one in my arms.’ He gave a chuckle then coughed again. ‘It’s just not the sort of thing … an officer is supposed to do. Is it, nurse?’

I guessed a warning about STDs would embarrass him, especially from someone his own age, and he’d probably have heard the standard lecture many times. Instead, I said with a smile, ‘You’d know how to set a good example, then.’

‘I’m the least qualified in the world to do that.’

‘Sounds like false modesty to me.’

‘No. Hard to explain – and if I tried, it would probably be bulldust.’

Author Bio:

Mhairead MacLeod was born in Scotland and now lives in Australia. Her first novel, The False Men won two manuscript awards. The manuscript for A Hospital in the Clouds has been short-listed for and won screenwriting manuscript awards. Before she became a writer Mhairead was a lawyer, which has proved useful for researching her historical fiction.

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Blitz & Giveaway for Exceptionally Unconventional by Victoria Clarke

Exceptionally Unconventional

Victoria Clarke

Publication date: February 27th 2023

Genres: Adult, Historical, Historical Romance, Romance

The Honorable Miss Lucilla Iverson is an exceptionally unconventional young heiress trying her best to be unexceptionally conventional despite her love of horses and racing curricles. When she attracts the attention of a hardened older bachelor, a duke, no less, it sets the ton afire with anticipation.

Many young bucks seek her approval, including a notorious (and now penniless) gamester who intends to marry Miss Iverson and her money whether or not she agrees. On an inside track for Lucilla’s attention is Oliver, Lord Hartwell, despite a near miss at running her over while driving his phaeton in the company of his cousin, the handsome and mysterious duke. Which of the three will win her heart and hand, to live happily ever after? That is the question!

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EXCERPT:

“Miss Iverson has been quite amicable to every young man that we have presented to her all evening. Is something amiss, Lady Edevane?”

“Sharp as ever, Clementina. The boy has been toadying her for weeks and does not seem to take a hint.”

“I see!” Mrs. Drummond-Burrell replied, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She did not appreciate being used as means to force a young lady’s hand and made mental note to mention this episode to her fellow patronesses at their next meeting.

In the ballroom, Miss Iverson allowed herself to be led to the floor and begrudgingly took her place. As the music began, Mr. Moore’s arm came about her waist. Her eyes glanced up at his and she fixed a withering glare upon him. He was undaunted, and indeed barely managed to conceal a smirk.

“Why do you look at me so, Lucilla?” he asked mockingly.

“I do not recall giving you leave to use my name, Mr. Moore.”

“Perhaps you did not, but we are such old friends, what is the harm in it?”

“It may not be harmful, but as it is not pleasing to my ear, I will request you not use it, if you please,” she replied witheringly as they whirled about the room.

“Whatever have I done to make you so upset, Miss Iverson?”

“Other than your underhanded effort to force me to accept a waltz with you, Mr. Moore?”

“I should think the effort was rather successful,” was his cheerful reply.

Miss Iverson’s jaw clenched. People were watching, she knew, so for quite some time she performed her steps in silence while he spoke on mundane topics and considered himself to have won the round. No one could overhear them, but anyone could surely guess she was angry at her dancing partner, and so she forced herself to fix a smile on her face as she looked up at him again.

“It is clear to me that in spite of my mother’s efforts to convince me otherwise, you are quite aware that I do not seek to encourage your familiarity.” Her words were deliberately blunt in an attempt to knock him off his perch, and it appeared to succeed, for his brow darkened momentarily. But as suddenly as it appeared, the frown vanished and he plastered a false smile on his face.

“You wound me, Miss Iverson! What have I done to draw such ire? I have surely not offended you.”

“You are well aware that your attentions offend me.”

“I am at a loss to understand why, for I am your humble servant.”

This drew her eyes up in a flash, and she said scornfully, “Indeed!”

“Have I not loved you since childhood?”

“I vividly recall your penchant for tossing spiders at me.”

“Only in my childish efforts to gain your notice, I assure you.”

“Then I suppose you were also in love with my brothers?” she replied with sarcasm ebbing in her voice.

As he paused to consider the right thing to say in reply, she suddenly pulled away from him and he realized the music had ended. She bobbed a quick and shallow curtsy before spinning on her heel and marching away. He felt irritation wash over him at her defiance. Yes, a less troublesome wife would be best. But he might enjoy breaking Miss Iverson of her spirit.

Author Bio:

I am an Australian writer, traveller, and horse rider. I am a lover of all things England and history - with a healthy side of sci-fi and fantasy.

My debut novel 'Exceptionally Unconventional' was written during 2020-21 while my late mother was fighting her final battle with breast cancer. I wrote it in a largely light-hearted way in an effort to keep her spirits up during that time - several of the characters were parodied versions of her acquaintances, so I was very happy to have succeeded in that particular endeavour!

She never got to see it published, but just a few weeks after she passed away, I was offered a contract on it from one of the first publishers I submitted it to. You'll notice the dedication I chose when it finally came time to write one.

I am currently working on my second manuscript.

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