First Kiss Friday with guest Amy Quinton

I’m so pleased to share Emma and John’s kiss on Sherry Ewing’s First Kiss Friday blog…

Sherry Ewing

It’s First Kiss Friday and it’s always a great day when I can introduce one of my fellow Bluestocking Belles. Please help me welcome Amy Quinton who will be sharing the first kiss scene from her novellaThe Umbrella Chronicles:John and Emma’s Storyin our upcoming box set Valentines From Bath. Happy reading and enjoy!

Excerpt:

In this scene, our hero, Dr. John Edward Hartwell, has caught a flash of light from outside as he meanders through the first-floor drawing room. He strolls over to the window and watches with disbelieving eyes as a person dances beneath the stars around the open flames of a fire, with what appears to be an umbrella in her hand. Alone. Then, suddenly his mystery woman reaches over and throws something on the fire.

A few moments later, John finds himself beneath the stars, standing just outside the circle of light, no more…

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Valentines from Bath: Regency Love Stories for Valentine’s Day!

The Bluestocking Belles Present:

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Valentines from Bath – Regency love stories for Valentine’s Day!

Available for pre-order for only .99 – available February 9th, 2019!

In five original stories, Jessica Cale, Sherry Ewing, Jude Knight, Amy Quinton, and Caroline Warfield bring you Valentines From Bath…

The Master of Ceremonies announces a great ball to be held on Valentine’s Day in the Upper Assembly Rooms of Bath.

Ladies of the highest rank—and some who wish they were—scheme, prepare, and compete to make best use of the opportunity.

Dukes, earls, tradesmen, and the occasional charlatan are alert to the possibilities as the event draws nigh.

But anything can happen in the magic of music and candlelight as couples dance, flirt, and open themselves to romantic possibilities. Problems and conflict may just fade away at a Valentine’s Day Ball.

25% of all our sales will be donated to the Malala Fund! You can go here: https://www.malala.org/ for more information on the Malala Fund.

The Umbrella Chronicles

John and Emma’s story

By Amy Quinton

A serious-minded, scientific man of learning seeks a complex and chaotic practitioner of all things superstitious who will upend his well-ordered life.

The Umbrella Strikes Again! Another Bachelor Has Fallen!

England, 1815…

Dr. John Edward Hartwell needs assistance, though not quite the kind of help he might think. True, he is well-organized, tidy, and pathologically set in his ways—a more serious-minded man one might never find.

But in his ways, I have determined, lies misery.

Enter Miss Annie Merryweather—a woman who is as lovely as she is chaotic. She is the perfect candidate to compliment our man of numbers and logical focus, bringing sunshine and superstition to redirect him away from a future of certain wretchedness.

Oh, aye, I said superstition.

And now that she has been categorically convinced that they are destined to be together—the signs, you see—no one can stand in her way, for she is as tenacious and optimistic as she is beautiful.

And none can resist her smile.

If I have anything to say about matters, and I always have something to say about matters, the signs will point the way.

They already have.

Lady Harriett Ross,

Self-proclaimed Motley Meddler * Mistress of Destiny * Wielder of the Infamous Umbrella

I’m just an old woman with opinions. On everything.

 

 

The Magic Ring – Bluestocking Belles’ Follow Your Star Home Blog Hop

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Welcome to my stop in the Bluestocking Belles’ Follow Your Star Home blog hop. Read on for a free short story about one of the many travels of the magic ring — the same ring that appears in all of the stories in Follow Your Star Home, our 2018 Holiday anthology — and comment for an entry in our holiday prize. Then, go to our blog hop page for links to the other Belles’ stories and for more information about our giveaway.

The blog hop is running for a fortnight, so keep checking back frequently to see if a new story has been posted.

Signature

7 January 1815

Dearest Rebecca,

I hope all is well with you. I have the most exciting news to share. I have found the Lost Ring of Frigg! I am enclosing it as a gift for you, for I fear you could use its power far more than I.

Use it well and with all my heart.

-Emma Merryweather
Bloomfield Park
Bath, England

The letter above left Bloomfield Park the very afternoon of the 7th of January and bore witness to a somewhat incredible, though small in the grand scheme of things, series of events on its journey north before arriving at its final destination: Scotland.

Here is one of those stories:

Day One…

He was running terribly late.

George Torchwood scooped up the outgoing post from the silver salver in the front hall of Bloomfield Park and darted down the hall, across the kitchen, and out the rear servant’s entrance, headed for the stables. Lady Ross had specifically instructed him to deliver the pile of letters to the post office in Bath before the last mail coach departed. He only had thirty minutes; this was going to be close.

The stablemaster met him at the grand doors to Bloomfield Park’s magnificent stables, reins in hand and guiding a beautiful black mare, all saddled and ready. The burly man rubbed a hand down her muzzle. “She’s the fastest we have to hand at the moment, George.”

George reached for the saddle horn, his bag of mail slung over one shoulder, slid his foot into the stirrup, and hoisted himself onto the mare. Once settled, he patted the horse’s neck affectionately. “Aye, I’ve ridden Andromeda before; she’ll do.”

Ten minutes later, George was half way to Bath and making adequate time when a loud crack sounded, echoing loudly through the air. He turned in time to see a sizable limb falling from the sky towards him.

Then, nothing.

Day Two…

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and vaguely familiar.

George blinked his bleary eyes and tried to focus on the angelic face hovering above him. On instinct, he attempted to sit up, but the woman laid a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder. “Easy now. Ye’ve taken a nasty tumble.”

He settled back into the soft pillows beneath him and felt a feint stab of discomfort. He reached up to touch his forehead, only distantly noting the strange added weight on his hand. He lightly probed his face and winced when he touched a goose-egg-sized lump at his hairline.

The woman pulled his hand away. “Oh, you. Leave it be.”

He smiled at her concern and the strength behind her command. He cleared his throat and blurted out, “Name’s George.”

Smooth, George. Quite, smooth.

She blushed slightly and dipped her head. “Moira.”

“Moira…” he repeated, his voice laced with awe. And then she smiled, and he suddenly remembered why she’d seemed vaguely familiar. He’d seen her at a village fair last summer, where he’d been helping his sister sell her hand-made embroidered linens. They’d never had a chance to speak, and he’d been largely disappointed when he’d finally managed to break away and couldn’t find her. She could have been from anywhere; he himself hadn’t been local. “I remember you…at the fair…near Oxford?”

Her face brightened. “Yes, that’s it.” She had a nice laugh. She dipped her head as if offering him a curtsey. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Indeed.” Finally!

He glanced away, to hide just how large a grin he wore, and realized she still held both his hands in hers. He noted her absently rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. He quite liked her touch. He liked her touch quite a bit, indeed. Her skin was so warm, so soft.

Once again, they shared shy smiles, then glanced away. This time, he felt a slight blush rise in his own cheeks.

It was then that he fully noted the abnormal weight on his hand, for he wore a man’s ring, gold with a star engraved on the top. “What is this?” he asked, his eyes darting toward the ring in question.

Moira followed his gaze. “I don’t know. You were wearing it when I found you.”

“That’s impossible.” He’d never seen it before. Besides, that ring was probably worth more than he made in a year, perhaps more. “It’s not mine.”

For a moment, they both stared at it, equally confused.

“That is strange.” She met his eyes. “Do you remember what happened?”

He made to put a hand to his brow, and she squeezed his hands to stop him.

“Thanks.” That would have bloody well hurt. “Um. There was a loud crack, then I spun about in my saddle in time to see a large tree branch falling towards me, but not enough time to dodge it. Then, nothing.” Once again, he tried to run his hands through his hair, and once again, she held on tight. Apparently, he performed the gesture more often than he realized.

She frowned; her forehead wrinkled adorably. “There wasn’t a branch nearby where we found you.”

That was strange. “My horse?”

She nodded. “Tethered in the lean-to ‘round back.”

“Oh God, my bag of letters? What day is it?” He tried to sit.

“Shhh… they’re over there.” She gestured towards a corner of the room where his bag lay. “And it’s the 8th of January.”

This time he had to bite his tongue as he successfully pulled his hand free and ran it down his face. Right over his injury. But never mind that. “Oh, no, Lady Ross wanted those letters to the post office yesterday; she’ll be cross.”

Moira shook her head. “Lady Ross will understand. She may be opinionated, but she’s a generous sort.”

“You know her?”

Moira laughed and shrugged. “Who doesn’t? She’s infamous…and a neighbor.”

“Still—” George once again attempted to sit. “I must go. I must…”

Moira stayed him with a hand to his chest. “It’ll keep, George. You’ll be dizzy with that nasty bump; give it a day. There’s nothing in that bag worth risking further injury for, I’m sure.” She gently pulled back a lock of his hair that had fallen over his eye.

Aye. Maybe, she was right.

That night, as he settled down to sleep, he removed the strange star-ring and placed it on the table by the bed. He smiled as he drifted off, more than pleased to have found his mystery woman from the fair; she was as wonderful as he’d imagined she’d be.

And in the morning, neither one of them remembered the mysterious ring, nor noticed that it was gone; it’s job complete.

Where did it go, you ask? Well, that is a story for another day.

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FYSH Quinton Blurb

Holiday Anthologies Galore

victorian-christmas

The winter holidays are upon us, and I couldn’t be more excited. Cooler weather here in the USA has me wanting to curl up with a good Holiday Historical Romance.

And it just so happens that the USA Today HEA blog has a collection of holiday historical romances for you to consider, including the latest from yours truly and the Bluestocking Belles…

Some of my favorite authors are here to bring you warmth and joy in the form of a great romance. Check it out!

https://bit.ly/2z9T7o9

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New Release – Follow Your Star Home

It’s here! Woot!

Follow Your Star Home, A Bluestocking Belles Holiday Collection is available now…

Divided sweethearts seek love and forgiveness in this collection of eight seasonal novellas…

FYSH 400 x 640

Forged for lovers and lost souls…

The Viking star ring is said to bring lovers together, no matter how far, no matter how hard.

In eight stories covering more than a thousand years, our heroes and heroines put this legend to the test. Watch the star work its magic, as prodigals return home in the season of goodwill, uncertain of their welcome.

25% of all our sales will be donated to the Malala Fund!

Amazon * iBooks * Nook * Kobo

 

 

You can help us celebrate!

We’re having a virtual party on Facebook today to celebrate our release!  Games and Prizes and All Sorts of  Shenanigans are sure to ensue…

Stop on by for a chance to win one of three grand prizes, enter one of the many individual author prizes, or just chat with the Belles and their guests:

https://www.facebook.com/events/1908064995954512/

 

I hope to see you there!  Signature

FYSH Quinton Blurb

Historical Romance Author – Romance * Sexy * Historical * Love * Magic

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