Publication Date: 18th November 2025 Publisher: Independently Published Page Length: 162 Genre: Historical Fiction
Praise: “The Relic Keeper” ultimately stands as a radiant celebration of hope, kindness, and the beauty that emerges when wounded souls dare to reach towards the light. It is a story to savour, reflect upon, and carry with you — an unforgettable addition to Eljarbo’s heartfelt repertoire of novels that bring history to life. Yarde Book Promotion
ABOUT THE BOOK
Italy, 1620.
Angelo is an orphan, lonely and forgotten. Having been passed on from one family to the next, he ends up as a common thief, subject to and under the thumb of a ruthless robber called Tozzo.
Angelo knows no other life and has lost hope that any chance of providence will ever replace his lonely, misfortunate existence. When he loses his master, his livelihood is shaken. Tozzo’s plunder is hidden in a safe place, but what will happen if someone comes after Angelo to get their hands on the stolen relics? More than that, he feels threatened by words he’s heard too many times; that he’ll always remain unforgiven and doomed.
One day, a priest invites Angelo to help with chores around the church and rectory and, in exchange, offers him room and board. Padre Benedetto’s kindness and respect are unfamiliar and confusing, but Angelo’s safety is still a grave concern. Two older robbers have heard rumors about the hidden treasures and will stop at nothing to attain them.
With literary depictions and imagery, Angelo’s story is a gripping and emotional journey of faint hope and truth in seventeenth-century Italy—an artistic and audacious tale that crosses paths with art collector Vincenzo Giustiniani and the powerful Medici family.
That night, Angelo returned to the church. The street had been quiet. The merchants had packed up their stalls, and the villagers were safely asleep in their homes.
Angelo had been a thief for as long as he could remember, but lately, he’d started debating with himself, wondering whether stealing from a church was considered sacrilegious. God was a stranger…a distant king, and the people who worshipped him seemed more inclined to talk about the devil. Angelo had been the victim of plenty of threats in his short life. If there were a God, what would He think of a lowly thief like Angelo? Would He pour his wrath down on Angelo’s head like hot lava from an erupting volcano, or would He show mercy upon a young man who had experienced little goodness in his life?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
HEIDI ELJARBO grew up in a home full of books, artwork, and happy creativity. She is the author of historical novels filled with courage, hope, mystery, adventure, and sweet romance during 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 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.
We’re celebrating the new release of Bound to the Broken Crown by Astoria Hope!
Bound to the Broken Crown (Magebound Courts #1)
Release Date: January 27, 2026
Genre: Dark Romantasy
Beauty and the Beast
Empath x Cursed Prince
Soft FMC, Stabby MMC
Forced proximity
Yearning, slow burn
Touch-starved, tortured, antihero romance
Touch her and die
He falls first
Only one tent
Grumpy x Sunshine
A prince cursed to destroy everything he touched. Until he touched her.
Isca never dreamed her gift for sensing emotions would draw the eyes of princes—let alone the Assembly of Mages. Brought to court under the guise of diplomacy, she quickly learns her secret task: soothe the beast raging under Prince Emrys’ skin and deliver his heir back to the Assembly to forge into a weapon. Refusal means her family’s ruin. But Emrys is not the monster she expected. Yes, he’s volatile. Yes, he’s destructive and dangerous. Beneath the curse, she glimpses the man—giving, fiercely protective, and unbearably lonely. To the Assembly, Isca is a tool. To Emrys, she’s a temptation he cannot afford. He pushes her away to protect her, even as his eyes betray the truth: she is the only thing keeping him from drowning. He could break her with a touch. She could bind him with a heartbeat. While their enemies scheme to use them as pawns, desire threatens to undo every wall they’ve built.
Together, she and Emrys could shatter the Assembly’s chains. But that would mean laying bare her betrayal—the one thing with the power to destroy both the man and the monster.
An assassin bound by
obedience. A detective marked for death. A cartel war with no survivors.
Von Schlange thought she’d escaped her past. Now Black Nova owns her—an elite,
off-the-books task force where obedience is survival and failure means death.
As their newest assassin, she’s unleashed on targets tied to Jaxon Ryker, a
drug lord buried deep in the Alaskan wilds.
Her partner, Xander Holt, a former Navy SEAL with ice in his veins, lives by
the same brutal code: no attachments, no lines crossed. But as missions turn
bloody, the fragile boundary between partner and lover begins to blur—and desire
becomes its own kind of danger.
Across the country, Detective Anaya Nazario faces a nightmare of her own. A
synthetic “zombie drug,” deadlier than fentanyl and immune to Narcan, is
ripping through Los Angeles. Her investigation exposes a network of dirty cops
shielding Ryker’s empire—and puts a target squarely on her back.
Two women on opposite fronts. One war against corruption and cartel power. And
a single truth—every betrayal leaves a body behind.
Explosive, unrelenting, and razor-sharp, The Serpent’s Order propels the
Serpent Series into its most dangerous chapter yet—where justice is a myth, and
survival comes at a price paid in blood.
Some predators hide
in plain sight. Others hunt from the shadows.
Merrick Winslow is a decorated Army officer, a man of discipline and honor—or
so he claims. When he reports that his ex-wife, Cheonsa Soo-Min, has been
stalking him, no one questions his story. He paints her as unstable, vengeful,
and dangerous, a woman consumed by obsession. But when two officers are gunned
down with her own weapon, the truth becomes harder to see. With the law closing
in, Cheonsa vanishes, fleeing to Rio de Janeiro, where she is taken in by Von
Schlange, the vigilante thought to have disappeared for good.
Von has retired her vengeful ways, leaving behind a life of bloodshed to run a
quiet veterinary clinic. But when Cheonsa’s past collides with Winslow’s lies,
the two women begin to unravel a deadly deception—one that turns predator into
prey. By the time Von uncovers the truth, an innocent life has already been
taken.
Now, there’s only one thing left to do: find the real monster and make him pay.
Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Detective Anaya Nazario and Supervising Special
Agent Blake Huxley are adjusting to life as new parents. But after only four
months of maternity leave, Nazario is pulled back into the field to investigate
the murder of two officers. What should be a straightforward case quickly
spirals into something far more sinister—secrets buried beneath the badge, a
killer hiding behind a uniform, and a web of corruption stretching further than
anyone expected.
As Nazario and Huxley chase down leads, their investigation intersects with a
vigilante they once thought was dead. And this time, Von Schlange isn’t just
seeking justice—she’s delivering retribution.
For fans of Karin Slaughter, Gillian Flynn, and Taylor Adams, Twilight of
the Serpent delivers a high-stakes vigilante thriller packed with morally gray
justice, relentless suspense, and a tangled web of deception. Perfect for
readers who love strong female leads, intense cat-and-mouse chases, and dark
psychological twists.
A serial killer is on the loose. With her insidious tattoo and venomous killer
strike, they’re calling her the serpent woman.
Two of the best in their field, LAPD Detective Anaya Nazario and FBI
Supervising Special Agent Blake Huxley are forced to work together yet again,
despite their strained romantic history and a baby on the way. Together on a
nationwide hunt, they must find this serpent woman before she strikes again.
But, as the cat-and-mouse chase evolves, Nazario and Huxley begin to realize
that their killer is on a mission of vigilante justice and they must struggle
with the question of who really deserves their justice: The killer, or her
victims?
This dark thriller delves into the sensitive topics of sex trafficking,
child abuse, animal death, sexual assault, graphic violence, and dead bodies.
Reader discretion is advised.
Compelling
dialogue, rich, gritty prose, and characters you won’t forget — if you loved
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest by Stieg Larsson, or Ink and Bone by Lisa
Unger, you’ll love The Serpent’s Bridge.
Recovering alcoholic Detective Anaya Nazario remains haunted by her father’s
murder. Lucas Nazario was the highest-ranking Puerto Rican LAPD detective, and
his case has gone unsolved for twenty-four years since his murder. When Mexican
immigrants are targeted by a serial killer, Nazario senses a connection and
fights to keep the leadless case open. The homicide investigation centers on
Sanctuary Baptist, a church composed of immigrants led by Pastor Stan and his
wife. Nazario’s personal and professional worlds collide when she is compelled
to collaborate with her former lover, Special Agent Blake Huxley. As their
lives merge once more, the FBI and Detective Nazario stop at nothing to find a
killer.
Is this the same monster who killed her father and left him for dead under a
bridge?
Can she put a stop to the murders before more families lose loved ones?
As a BIPOC thriller author, she previously parted amicably
with her agent and, three months later, secured an eight-book deal with
Oliver-Heber Books—now boasting 24,000 downloads in its first year and a
BookRaid bestseller ranking in the thriller category. The Serpent Woman (Book
2) reached #1 on Amazon and topped all three of its categories. Her background
spans literary agencies and TV studios, where she contributed to greenlit
screenplays that became Lifetime movies. She holds a Master’s in Television,
Radio, and Film, has taught author branding workshops (L.A. Writer’s
Conference, North Texas RWA), and maintains a 100K+ social media following.
When the shadows come alive, Ava and Caleb discover the only
safe place is in each other’s arms.
But the closer they get, the darker the
truth becomes.
All the Shadows We
Become
by Dustin Blackwall
Genre: YA Romantasy Thriller
Caleb Ward is trying to forget the night he almost died.
Ava Lin is trying to understand why he survived.
But Hollow Creek isn’t letting either of them move on.
What starts as a strange blackout spirals into a trail of
eerie clues, shifting shadows, and a connection between Ava and Caleb that
grows hotter and more undeniable with every new secret uncovered.
Something happened
that night.
Something dangerous.
And it’s waking up.
The lights exploded into darkness so fast
it felt like the whole world had been switched off. One second, the fairgrounds
pulsed with noise; the next, a hush dropped over everything – thick, heavy,
wrong. Ava’s breath caught in her throat as the shadows around the tents
stretched, bending in directions that didn’t match the lanterns flickering
overhead.
“Caleb…”
She didn’t even finish his name. Her hand shot out on instinct, finding his
fingers in the dark. His grip closed around hers immediately – warm, tight,
desperate – anchoring her like a lifeline.
Static rolled through the air, not sound
but pressure, brushing across her skin like cold fingertips. The wind
picked up and carried the faint smell of scorched leaves and metal. Somewhere
behind them, a ride creaked slowly, even though nothing was moving it.
Caleb stepped close enough that she felt
the heat of his chest at her shoulder.
“I’m here,” he whispered, voice low and unsteady.
Something moved at the corner of her vision
– a ripple of shadow that stole her breath. But Caleb was already there,
guiding her back against him, solid and unwavering.
The world still trembled, but she didn’t. Not with his strength at her back. In
that moment, she felt it with aching clarity: as long as he held her, she could
face anything.
All around them, people shouted – fragmented
cries swallowed by the dark. A string of carnival lights fizzled overhead,
sputtering blue sparks that made the shadows jump like living ink.
Ava squeezed his hand harder.
“We have to move,” she said, though she wasn’t sure which direction was safe
anymore.
Caleb turned, pulling her with him, and in
that split-second flash of dying light, she saw his face – terrified,
determined, and somehow still looking at her like she was the one thing in this
chaos he trusted.
The ground trembled.
The shadows bent again.
And together, hand in hand, they ran toward
whatever waited in the dark.
Can you, for those who don’t know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?
I come from very humble beginnings in a small town in British Columbia. I worked the usual jobs you find in places like that — the kind that teach you patience, grit, and a deep appreciation for people. Eventually I made my way to Vancouver, where I built a career in Architectural Drafting. It was steady work, and for a long time it felt like the right path.
But somewhere along the way, something stopped resonating. I realized I was getting older, and that the little voice that had always whispered “follow your passion” wasn’t going to quiet down on its own. So I made a choice — a hopeful, slightly terrifying, wonderfully exciting choice — to finally listen.
And that’s how I found my way back to storytelling.
Writing lets me share the worlds I’ve carried with me for years… and invite readers into places where shadows glitch, secrets breathe beneath small towns, and ordinary people discover extraordinary courage. I’m grateful every day for anyone who chooses to walk into those stories with me.
What is something unique/quirky about you?
I’m a tad nerdy.
Where were you born/grew up at?
I grew up in a little town a few hours from Vancouver, B.C. — and when I say little, I mean little. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and where the biggest claim to fame is being the crossroads of four major highways.
I didn’t stay long, though. Even as a kid, I felt this tug toward something bigger, something just beyond the tree line. It is beautiful, but the opportunities I was looking for weren’t there. So I carried those early memories with me — the quiet streets, the mountains close enough to touch, that sense of being on the edge of something unknown — and they found their way into my stories later.
Those small-town roots are still a part of me, and they shape the worlds I write. There’s something special about places where secrets linger just beneath the surface… and shadows sometimes feel alive.
If you knew you’d die tomorrow, how would you spend your last day?
Laying the back of my truck on a clear night with a blanket watching the universe move across the sky.
Who is your hero and why?
One of my greatest inspirations has always been Carl Sagan. There was something extraordinary about the way he looked at the universe — not with cold detachment, but with wonder, curiosity, and a deep sense of humanity. His work opened doors in my mind, inviting me to think bigger, dream wider, and explore ideas I might never have considered otherwise.
I still miss his voice, his gentle wisdom, and the way he made the cosmos feel both vast and intimate. His influence hasn’t faded for me; it’s woven into the way I see the world and into the stories I try to tell. He reminded all of us that imagination and science, wonder and truth, can live side by side — and that there’s beauty in asking the next question.
What do you do to unwind and relax?
I love getting outside whenever I can. Camping, being out in the fresh air, just letting the world slow down a little — it does something good for the soul. And when I really want to let loose, I’ll take my dirt bike out and ride until I’m completely worn out. There’s something freeing about it, like shaking off all the stress at once and coming back to myself.
Describe yourself in 5 words or less!
So far out of the box I can’t even see it anymore
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
Honestly… I’m not sure I ever had a single moment where it clicked. Writing has been a gradual transition for me — a quiet shift rather than a dramatic one. I’m still getting used to the idea, and maybe that’s okay.
What I do know is that somewhere along the way, the stories I carried inside me started asking for space. They wanted to be written, shaped, shared. And every time I sit down to put those worlds onto the page, I feel a little more like the person I’m becoming — someone who tells stories because they matter to me, and hopefully to readers too.
So whether I call myself a “writer” or not, I’m grateful to be on this path, learning as I go, and inviting others into the worlds I create.
Do you have a favorite movie?
My favorite movie? I think I’d have to choose 2010. There’s something about it that still feels awe-inspiring to me — that sense of scale, of mystery, of looking out into the universe and realizing how small and extraordinary we really are.
It’s epic in the quietest, most meaningful way, and every time I watch it I’m reminded why stories about the unknown resonate so deeply. They make us curious. They make us dream. They invite us to imagine what else might be out there… and what might already be waiting for us.
Which of your novels can you imagine made into a movie?
LOL. Not there yet. I’m still surprised I got published!
Light Years to
Midnight
by Dustin Blackwall
Genre: SciFi Thriller
When data itself begins to speak, who decides what it’s
trying to say?
Light Years To Midnight — a globe-spanning thriller where science, faith, and
code collide in a race against a countdown written into the fabric of reality.
The wind whipped dust across the plateau as Jonas crested
the ridge, breath burning in his throat. Below him, the satellite dishes of the
abandoned relay station stretched into the dark like a field of frozen giants.
Their metal frames groaned under the rising storm, each bent toward the same
invisible point on the horizon.
He wasn’t alone.
A faint beam of light—too controlled to be an
accident—flickered between the dishes. Jonas crouched, heart thudding, watching
as a woman stepped into view, her silhouette sharp against the skeletal
machinery. She moved with the alertness of someone who had been running for far
too long.
Elena.
He had seen her face in files, in encrypted packets, in the
warnings that had chased him across continents. But seeing her here, in the
flesh, felt unreal—like walking into a photograph he wasn’t meant to
understand.
Before he could speak, a second figure emerged from the
opposite end of the array. Maya paused only when she spotted Elena, recognition
flaring across her face. They had never met, not really, but the anomaly had
braided their paths tightly enough that the moment felt inevitable.
Jonas stood and lifted a hand, but movement in the distance
froze him mid-step.
Engines.
Low, tactical, deliberate.
A convoy approached from the north, its headlights dark, its
tires crunching through gravel like muffled gunfire. Special
operations—unmarked, unhurried, confident. Not hunters, but collectors.
Elena’s eyes locked on his.
“Are they here for you,” she whispered, “or for all of us?”
Maya stepped closer, her breath sharp in the cold air. “Does
it matter?”
Something pulsed beneath the earth—three beats, a pause,
three more—vibrating up through the metal frames of the dishes. The sky above
them shimmered, faint but unmistakable, as if answering the rhythm.
Jonas swallowed hard.
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s already
found us.”
Dustin is a lifelong fan of science and speculative fiction,
blending his fascination with astronomy, technology, and the unknown into
stories that explore the edge between logic and wonder. When he’s not writing,
he’s reading, stargazing, or chasing trails on his dirt bike — always searching
for what lies just beyond understanding.
A forced engagement binds them, but the secrets simmering between them threaten to implode their lives far sooner than any wedding bells—part one of a slow-burn duet…
Title: THE ARRANGEMENT
Author: S.D. Lettie
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 298
Genre: New Adult, Romantic Suspense
Format: Paperback, Kindle, FREE with Kindle Unlimited
You know that guy you fell for at sixteen—the one who vanished without explanation, leaving behind enough damage to last years? Now imagine being forced into an engagement with him because your parents decided you’re more useful as leverage than as a daughter.
And the part he forgot to mention? He’s heir to a Bratva empire with blood on its hands.
That’s Emilia’s life. Her future is not her own, and her fiancé, Nikolai Volkov, is a man whose silence is more dangerous than his words. Their past is a wound. Their engagement is a threat. And what grows between them is something neither of them should let happen.
The Arrangement is a dark, slow-burn story of buried truths, political corruption, and a connection that pulls two damaged people toward a collision neither may survive unscathed.
My phone buzzes in my shorts pocket. I ignore it, thinking it’s a text, but then it buzzes again. I look down and see my father’s name lighting up the screen. Groaning, I answer.
“Emilia.” His voice is calm, clipped. Not cold, just clean, like everything else he controls. He says my name like punctuation.
“Yes, sir.”
“Your mother asked me to check on the brunch.”
She didn’t want to ask herself. She never does. She strategically delegates through him, like always. “It’s done,” I say. “Final headcount is confirmed. Catering’s squared. My remarks are short and already vetted.” There’s a pause, the sound of him moving paper in the background, or maybe pouring a drink. I can’t tell. He’s always multitasking, even when he speaks like everything is a priority.
“She wants it to go smoothly.”
It will. He knows that. He wouldn’t have called if he didn’t already trust it was handled.
“There’s something else,” my father says right as I think we’re done, his voice flat and clipped in the way he reserves for things that aren’t up for discussion. “I’ve arranged a meeting with Nikolai and his father next week at the Four Seasons. I’d like you to be there. We have some important things to discuss.”
– Excerpted from The Arrangement by S.D. Lettie, Independent, 2025. Reprinted with permission.
Interview with the Author
Can you share a story about what brought you to this particular career path (becoming an author)?
I’ve been an avid reader for as long as I can remember. In elementary school, the longest book I tackled was The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, and after that I devoured the Harry Potter series and never really looked back. Every summer, my grandma would take me to Barnes & Noble and let me pick out a few books for the week I spent with her. What she didn’t realize was that I was a fast reader and could easily finish one or two books in a single day.
My love for writing started in middle school, thanks to my seventh-grade Language Arts teacher who had us write short stories in our composition notebooks as a warm-up every day. From there, I was constantly writing – on Word documents, in spiral notebooks, anywhere I could. Most of those early stories were Harry Potter fan fiction, so they never saw the light of day.
Then life happened. Kids, a career in B2B marketing, responsibilities. I actually stopped reading altogether until 2020, when the world was forced to slow down. Over the next few years, I fell back into reading hard – sometimes 300 to 400 books a year on my Kindle. I started with lighter romance authors like Tessa Bailey and Meghan Quinn, before eventually drifting into darker romance with writers like Rina Kent, J. Bree, and Eva Ashwood.
When I lost my job at the beginning of 2025, I knew it was my chance to finally write the story that had been living rent-free in my head for years. I had so many unfinished drafts and half-formed ideas, and this time, I committed to finishing one. And the rest is history.
Your latest book, The Arrangement, centers around a forced engagement and is a dark, slow-burn story of buried truths, political corruption, and a connection that pulls two damaged people toward a collision neither may survive unscathed. How did you come up with this very unique idea?
I really credit the inspiration for The Arrangement to two things:
First, mafia romance. As much as I love a golden-retriever MMC, there’s something about a morally gray man that just hits differently. The kind who’s dangerous, loyal to a fault, and would burn the world down for the woman he chooses. I knew from the start that my male character needed to live in that gray space.
Second, my love for espionage movies and TV shows. I’m fascinated by secrets, especially the ones buried inside politics and government. There’s something thrilling about uncovering what’s hidden beneath polished speeches and public images, and honestly, it feels closer to reality than people like to admit.
Blending those two worlds – organized crime and political power – felt natural. Once I put them together, the story pretty much took on a life of its own.
Can you tell us more about the main character in your book?
The book really centers around two characters: Emilia Langford and Nikolai Volkov.
Emilia is polished, overly analytical, sarcastic, and charming – the perfect political daughter on the surface. She’s spent her entire life playing a role, and in that way, she’s incredibly relatable. Not everything is as perfect as it looks, and Emilia represents that disconnect between appearance and reality better than anyone.
Nikolai, on the other hand, is our main male character and very much the morally gray counterpart. He’s intense, dangerous, and undeniably attractive – the kind of man who looks like he could kill you and probably has. While readers don’t get much of his POV in book one, the moments they do get are powerful. He’s calculated, loyal, and shaped by the world of organized crime in a way that makes him impossible to ignore.
Who are the other main characters?
Thalia is hands down my favorite character in this world. She’s the backbone of the story and wears way too many hats – Emilia’s ride-or-die, her unofficial therapist, the little voice on her shoulder, and the one person who will always say what everyone else is thinking. She’s blunt, unfiltered, and completely unapologetic about it.
Honestly, she became so fun to write that it only made sense to give her her own book. Some characters refuse to stay in the background, and Thalia is very much one of them.
What’s the very first line of your book?
It opens with: “The ballroom is unbearably warm. It always is.”
What’s the main reason someone should really read your book?
There are a few reasons someone should pick up The Arrangement.
First, it’s part of an ongoing world. While this duet focuses on Emilia and Nikolai, their story isn’t the end – other characters step forward, and the world keeps expanding. Second, it’s a true slow burn. If you like stories that take their time building tension before everything finally collides, this book is for you. And finally, it’s grounded. It’s still fiction, but it feels real. Readers can get lost in the story while still recognizing the emotions, dynamics, and pressure the characters are under.
You are a person of enormous influence. If you could start a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be?
I’d want to start a movement focused on making books easier to access for everyone. Reading is one of the few ways people can escape, learn, and decompress without putting themselves at risk, but it’s still treated like a luxury. Libraries are important, but they don’t always have what people want or need.
I’d love to see more community-based book sharing, things like local swaps, little free libraries, school programs, and other low-barrier ways to get books into people’s hands. The goal would be to make reading feel accessible and normal, not expensive or exclusive.
About the Author
Before she ever had “author” next to her name,S.D. Lettie
was—and still is—an avid reader first; the kind who would finish a book
in a day and beg her parents to take her back to the bookstore. Reading
started as a hobby and, as she got older, became her source of
entertainment, escape, and comfort. Over the years, she found herself
wanting to write the kind of worlds readers could get excited about—a
world that could grow into a fandom of its own.
Today, Lettie writes slow-burn
romances—stories about characters who are imperfectly perfect, the hard
moments that shape them, and the plot twists that leave readers reeling.
Outside her writing life, she’s a wife and mom of two, roles that
influence both her time and perspective. She’s also a dedicated soccer
fan, the kind who will plan her day around a match and openly admit
she’ll yell at the TV when things get heated.
Through all of it, her goal as an author is simple: she wants her characters to stay with readers long after the book ends.
One bookish debutante. Two dashing suitors. And a season full of scandal.
Lady Alaina Sinclair never expected London society to be so treacherous—or so tempting. She has always preferred books to ballrooms, but with a disastrous start to her first season, she’s determined to rewrite her fate. With her heart set on the respectable—and very eligible—Duke of Ashford, Alaina is ready to embrace society’s expectations… even if it means silencing her true desires.
Alaina’s world is set awry by Christopher Kendall, the Marquess of Rochester—sharp-tongued, maddeningly handsome, and inconveniently, the duke’s closest friend. Their first encounter is a disaster. Their next, a temptation. And every moment together after that, increasingly impossible to ignore. But with a web of secrets, jealous relatives, and mysterious threats unraveling around her, it soon becomes clear: this is no ordinary season.
Kindred Schemes is a modern take on a regency romance with glamour, a steamy love triangle, and enough mystery to keep readers turning the page.
What readers are saying:
“The story’s central love triangle will delight romance fans…Harrington excels in crafting multidimensional characters…[A] satisfying blend of romance, intrigue, and character-driven storytelling.” — Booklife
An entertaining period love story, nicely balancing breathless lust with social satire and high-mindedness.” — Kirkus Reviews
“The characters are colorful and sharply etched…the prose has a droll, Austen-esque verve to it, using pompously polite palaver to reveal the crassness of high society…In keeping with the style is the spirit of the book’s message—that true love triumphs over mercenary calculation. Readers will root for the feisty Alaina to overcome the stuffed shirts and find her heart’s desire.” — Kirkus Reviews
Oh no, here he comes, the lascivious Lord Finch and his merry band of drunken fools. Alaina looked out at the crowded ballroom, her eyes connecting with the group of men making their way toward its center. Alaina had only been at the ball for a quarter hour before this particular disaster struck, the leers of the men making the hairs at the nape of her neck prickle. It did not escape Alaina’s attention that Lady Barbara, Lord Finch’s sister, accompanied the group, and wore a sly smile. Hopefully, this latest encounter would be short. Surely, Lord Finch would not want to be rejected twice, let alone in front of a large crowd.
Alaina looked to her right to find her parents close at hand, thankfully, and she stood a little straighter knowing she would not face this alone.
The group of men seemed to move in unison before coming to a halt a few paces before Alaina and her family. A group of onlookers formed a circle around them as if ready to enjoy the ensuing spectacle, Lady Barbara taking her place in the throng. Alaina struggled to focus on the faces of the onlookers as she held her head high, ready to meet Lord Finch and his friends with as much dignity as she could muster. She hoped to project a more serene exterior than she currently felt, her heartbeat accelerating to such a degree that she could feel the blood rushing in her ears.
Lord Finch stepped to the fore of the now halted group, and gallantly bowed to Alaina before speaking, his voice so loud that Alaina was sure people arriving in carriages outside could hear.
“My dearest beautiful Alaina,” he started, clearing his throat before continuing, “You have set upon me quite a conundrum. I fear I have fallen madly in love with the idea of having you as my wife, and I feel you should be happy with such an arrangement. I am quite the catch, you know, especially for someone from the country, and one who likes to read.”
From behind him, Lady Barbara piped up with an added insult, “Amazing, really, that Alaina found her way out of the library to be here.” Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Alaina cringed at his easy use of her given name, devoid of any honorific, and seethed at the mockery of her character. Lord Finch and his sister sounded ridiculous, pompous, and conceited.
Alaina was frozen in place, her lips trembling in rage, and when no comment ushered forth from her lips, Lord Finch rejoined, unfazed by the one-sided nature of their conversation. “I find myself at an impasse. Shall I continue to press my suit with decorum, or should I make my feelings known to the whole world, so that you may not so easily dismiss them as you have in the past?”
A warmth crept up Alaina’s neck and touched her cheeks, giving her pale skin a glow, although one not easily perceptible in the dim light of the ballroom. She turned once again to where her parents stood, only to find that her father had disappeared, and her mother’s pale face was drawn in embarrassment as she watched her eldest child with dismay. Oh, how Alaina wished her father would have stayed; his tall frame was intimidating to a crowd, and his familiar umber eyes were always reassuring to her.
Resolved to put a stop to this farce, Alaina turned back to Lord Finch and remarked, her voice distant and strange sounding in her ears, “Lord Finch, it seems my earlier rejection of your suit did not deter you in the least, but I ask you to have a care for your surroundings.”
As the words left her mouth, Alaina watched Lord Finch’s face change, his outwardly serene expression making way for something more sinister. His smile twisted into an outright leer, and his pale green eyes seemed to burn of their own accord, the candlelight no longer just a reflection in them. He lowered to one knee and reached out his hands in supplication as he sneered, “Please, will you marry me, my lady?” The emphasis on the last word ensured that Alaina felt the insult.
Lord Finch was quickly joined by his friends, their idiocy knowing no bounds, all of them dropping to their knees in a chorus of marriage proposals, each more mocking and infuriating than the last. Soon laughter rang loudly in Alaina’s ears as the men and then the onlookers seemed to find amusement in her predicament. Her world blurred through a sheen of tears, the faces of the laughing men—now resembling something like demons—the only clear points in her vision.
Alaina glanced about to find her mother and threw herself into her open arms, shielding her from the worst of the crowd. The two women made their way to the outer edge of the ballroom and quickly to the front entrance, only stopping a moment to gather their cloaks before heading out into the cool night. Her father, having had the forethought to make his way to the exit, met them in the front drive, where he had already called for their carriage to be brought around, and not a moment too soon.
The Sinclair family hastened into the carriage, a pall falling on them as the conveyance made its way onto the main thoroughfare and toward their London townhome. Alaina squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the clip clop of the well-matched team of four, grateful for the silence of her parents, as she let tears make their way unchecked down her cheeks.
R. K. Harrington is a debut historical romance author, combining swoon-worthy romance with a bit of mystery. Her first novel, Kindred Schemes, is scheduled to be released February 2026.
In 2021, R. K. Harrington found that her daydreams were yearning to spill over to the written page, and, ever since, has been writing historical romance with a dash of mystery in hopes of publishing her work one day. After much editing, and long hours designing, she is gearing up to release her first novel, with many more to come!
R. K. Harrington grew up reading romance novels at a (maybe too) young age, and the stories entranced her. Give her a Happily Ever After (HEA) and there is no better book in the world. While romance books (namely historical romances) are her first love, R. K. Harrington is an avid reader of all genres. She has gone through many phases: medical mysteries, crime dramas, science fiction, romantasy, and is currently in a fantasy phase (she does do the occasional non-fiction book as well, namely history). Through every season of reading, romance books of all kinds are sprinkled liberally.
When R. K. Harrington is not writing or reading (or working her day job as an engineer), she is having fun with her husband, their kids, and her very cute dog, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Maximus. They all live in the DMV area, where the summers are hot, the winters are cold, and the two days of Spring and Fall are beautiful enough to open the windows!
High Couch of Silistra, first of the notorious
Silistra Quartet, brings us to a realm where thought alters probability, where
creativity is inextricably linked to the urge to own and dominate, and where
the universe itself is amenable to a focused mind.
Rooted deeply in humanity’s mythic past yet unaware
of the planet Earth, High Couch of Silistra begins one woman’s mythic quest for
self-knowledge – with surprising results.
High Couch of
Silistra
The Silistra Quartet Book 1
by Janet Morris
Genre: Dystopian Epic SciFi Fantasy Romance
Biology shapes reality…
One woman’s mythic search for self-realization in a distant tomorrow…
Her sensuality was at the core of her world, her quest beyond the civilized
stars.
Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler.
“Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure.” – Charles N. Brown,
Locus Magazine
“The amazing and erotic adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in
tomorrow’s universe”
– Frederik Pohl
“The best single example of prostitution used in fantasy is Janet Morris’
Silistra series… Estri’s character is most like that of Ishtar who describes
herself as “‘a prostitute compassionate am I'” because she
“symbolizes the creative submission to the demands of instinct, to the
chaos of nature …the free woman, as opposed to the domesticated woman”.
Linking Estri with these lunar and water symbols is not difficult because of
the moon’s eternal virginity (the strength of integrity) links with her changeability
(the prostitute’s switching of lovers). […]
Morris strengthens the moon imagery by having Estri as a
well-keepress because wells, fountains, and the moon as the orb which controls
water have long been associated with fertility, […] In a sense, she is like
the moon because she is apparently eternal, never waxing or waning except in
her pursuit of the quest; she is the prototypical wanderer like the moon and
Ishtar. She is the eternal night symbol of the moon in opposition to the
Day-Keepers […]
At her majority (her
three hundredth birthday), she is given a silver-cubed hologram letter from her
mother, containing a videotape of her conception by the savage bronzed
barbarian god from another world. […] If Estri’s mother then acts as a bawd,
willing her lineage as Well-Keepress to her daughter, then Estri’s
great-grandmother Astria as foundress of the Well becomes a further mother-bawd
figure when she offers her prophetic advice in her letter: “Guard Astria
for you may lose it, and more. Beware of one who is not as he seems. Stray not
in the port city of Baniev …look well about you, for your father’s daughter’s
brother seeks you”. Having no brother that she knows of does not stay
Estri from undertaking the heroic quest of finding her father.”
– Anne K. Kaler, The
Picara: From Hera to Fantasy Heroine
I
am Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi, former Well-Keepress of Astria on the planet
Silistra. I have begun three times to tell this story, and three times I have
been interrupted. This, then, the fourth attempt, will surely prove successful.
Perhaps
you have heard of Silistra, the planet that was catalyst to the sexual
revolution in the year twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and four Bipedal
Federate Standard Time, or of the Silistran serums that lengthen life and
restore vitality in virtually any bipedal life form, or perhaps you have at
some time contracted the services of a Silistran telepath, or a precognitive,
or a deep reader. It is possible that you have in your own home the
scintillating, indestructible web-cloth woven by our domestic arachnids, or
have seen holograms of our golachits, those intelligent builder-beetles who
exude from their mouths a translucent, superhard substance called gol and
create from this gol, under the guidance of the chit-guards, the formidable and
resplendent structures in which we live and work.
And
perhaps you have seen no web-cloth, no gol, never been ill, and are not
interested in sex. If so, you may never have heard of Silistra.
I
carry Silistra in my mind’s eye, here under this alien sun. In my mind alone
can I look out the east window of my beloved exercise hall in Well Astria and
see the sun’s rising burst upon the jewel-like towers and keeps of the Inner
Well and a thousand rainbows arc and dance in the greening sky.
Best selling author Janet Morris began writing in
1976 and published more than 30 novels, many co-authored with her husband Chris
Morris or others. She contributed short fiction to the shared universe fantasy
series Thieves World, in which she created the Sacred Band of Stepsons, a
mythical unit of ancient fighters modeled on the Sacred Band of Thebes. She
created, orchestrated, and edited the Bangsian fantasy series Heroes in Hell,
writing stories for the series as well as co-writing the related novel, The
Little Helliad, with Chris Morris. She wrote the bestselling Silistra Quartet
in the 1970s, including High Couch of Silistra, The Golden Sword, Wind from the
Abyss, and The Carnelian Throne. This quartet had more than four million copies
in Bantam print alone, and was translated into German, French, Italian, Russian
and other languages. In the 1980s, Baen Books released a second edition of this
landmark series. The third edition is the Author’s Cut edition, newly revised
by the author for Perseid Press. Most of her fiction work has been in the
fantasy and science fiction genres, although she has also written historical
and other novels. Morris has written, contributed to, or edited several
book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on nonlethal
weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and national
security topics.
Janet said: ‘People often ask what book to read
first. I recommend “I, the Sun” if you like ancient history;
“The Sacred Band,” a novel, if you like heroic fantasy; “Lawyers
in Hell” if you like historical fantasy set in hell;
“Outpassage” if you like hard science fiction; “High Couch of
Silistra” if you like far-future dystopian or philosophical novels. I am
most enthusiastic about the definitive Perseid Press Author’s Cut editions,
which I revised and expanded.’
Enjoy two tea parties, two romances and two characters from one of the world’s most beloved authors.
Tea for Two:
An Austen-Inspired Short Story Duet
by Bianca White
Genre: Historical Romance
Jane Austen and tea. What more could one ask for?
Enjoy two tea parties, two romances and two characters from one of the world’s most beloved authors.
In this historical romance short story duet gossip-loving Mrs Jennings meddles in affairs of the heart, and scandalous Henry Crawford turns heads once again!
Be swept away by the amusements of the Regency tea party in these Austen-inspired short stories. Delight in the sweet romance, dancing, gossip and, of course, tea.
“But indeed I would rather have nothing but tea.” ― Jane Austen, Mansfield Park
Tea for Two comprises two short stories:
Jilted
Lord Asher Mandeville is heartbroken when his childhood love, Miss Tabitha Rowe, jilts him only weeks before their wedding.
Asher refuses to accept Tabitha’s rejection and chases after his betrothed to demand an explanation.
Tabitha is determined to escape him, but Asher’s shattered heart will accept nothing other than her return.
Wooing Miss Woodforde
Jasper Trevethan loves Miss Sophie Woodforde, but he is a penniless rake. Sophie would never marry him, even if he were rich.
As an impoverished companion, Sophie serves the whims of others while pining for her employer’s scandalous nephew.
When an unexpected inheritance transforms Sophie’s life, she becomes the target of fortune hunters.
Before another scoundrel steals his love, Jasper must prove his devotion and woo Miss Woodforde. But Sophie would rather become an old maid than marry a man who only wants her for her money, especially Mr Trevethan.
While Sophie continued to hold his heart, he could not bring himself to marry another. Yes, he had wasted his days living off his brother while indulging in a life of idleness and pleasure-seeking. Now he had no option but to pray his aunt left him her fortune. Perhaps then he could offer for Sophie. She will never marry a rake, you fool. As usual, he tamped down the bitter truth, but the tiny flicker of hope that one day she may be his was the only thing that prevented him from sinking further.
His aunt dropped onto the sofa before the crackling hearth. “It does not help your cause that you continue to associate with that scoundrel, Mr Crawford.”
Sophie carried out her duties in efficient silence, pretending not to hear the details of his scandalous associations. How he longed to take her away from this life of servitude. Someone so good, kind and selfless deserved better.
After pouring the tea, she handed her employer a cup.
Without a word of thanks to her companion, his aunt continued, “There is still talk about his scandalous affair with Mrs Rushworth. You should end the connection, for it will only sully your name further. Your reputation as a rake does not help matters, but being associated with an adulterer will not earn you a respectable bride. What must my dear sister think of her favourite now?”
He accepted his cup from Sophie with his head down and muttered his thanks. Shame gnawed at his insides. If his mother had not died of typhus before he reached his tenth year, she would have been sorely disappointed in him.
Why could he not be a better man? He should have sought a profession after university. If he had done something useful, perhaps, he may have earned Sophie’s good opinion and won her heart. Instead, he had wasted his life. He was a hopeless rake beyond salvage, in love with a woman far above him in noble character. Even if he were rich, she would always be too good for him.
Sophie sat on the sofa next to his aunt and twiddled with a delicate curl at her nape.
He had to ask again. “Are you certain you are well, Miss Woodforde?”
“Stop trying to misdirect the attention from yourself, Trevethan.” Aunt Hammond sipped at her tea.
Wispy tendrils of steam rose from the beige liquid in his cup, and he tamped down the urge to ask for something stronger. Liquor would have to wait. Even though nothing eased the painful longing within him lately.
He could not resist being drawn to the source of his yearning while she stared at the flickering flames in the hearth. What had happened to the woman who enjoyed lecturing him about the latest philanthropic project she wished to support or teased him following the gossip surrounding his misadventures? Not that he had many these days unless one counted spending the evenings drinking brandy with Crawford while they both pined for the women they loved but could not possess.
“Trevethan!” he jerked his head towards his aunt. Her narrowed gaze bore into him. Had he given himself away?
She glowered, then said, “Miss Woodforde has received some surprising news today that has unsettled her.”
Sophie’s head shot up; her wide gaze directed towards her employer.
“I hope it is nothing serious?” My God, she was ill. “Is there anything I can do?”
Aunt Hammond scoffed. “It is not unwelcome news—well, not for Miss Woodforde.”
“Mrs Hammond.” Sophie pleaded, but as usual, his aunt could not be silenced.
“Miss Woodforde is now an heiress with twenty thousand.”
His breath stuttered.
On the opposite sofa, Sophie’s head lolled forward, and she ran a palm across her forehead.
Sophie was a wealthy woman—a single, wealthy woman. That meant she no longer needed to work for his aunt. He would not see her when he visited.
Aunt Hammond asked, “Will you not offer your congratulations?”
He glanced at his aunt before returning his attention to Sophie, whose shoulders slumped.
A burning sensation spread down his gullet, and he swallowed. “Congratulations, Miss Woodforde.”
His aunt sniffed. “She is almost maudlin; anyone would think a beloved family member had died.”
Sophie continued to stare into the teacup in her lap. She would leave, and he would never see her again.
Aunt Hammond prattled on. “Heaven knows why, but she wishes to keep it a secret. She should marry, yet she insists she will remain in my employment.”
Of course, her sense of duty would not allow her to abandon his aunt. Selfish thoughts about her leaving had distracted him from the more pressing issue. Another man would steal her from him. His heart skipped a beat. He could not allow it.
Bianca White writes passionate and spicy historical romance.
Bianca loves history and has a degree in history and history of art. The word “research” is often used as an excuse to drag members of her family around every stately home and castle wherever they go. Nothing, not even the grumbling of said family, will keep her away from a historical fashion exhibition.
When she’s not writing, Bianca feeds her addiction to romance novels. She also loves baking and watching movies. Thanks to her love of baking (and eating), she feels the need to balance it with a little activity and enjoys tai chi, aerobics and swimming.
Bianca lives in West Yorkshire, England, with her husband and two children.
To receive all the latest news from Bianca White, and a bit of history in your inbox, sign up for her mailing list at Bianca White Writes.
Publisher: Ray M. Schultze Publication date: December 2, 2025 Genre(s): Mystery, murder mystery, historical fiction, historical mystery, literary fiction, biographical fiction
In 1898 San Francisco, Jack London and Murder on Nob Hill by Ray M. Schultze begins with Jack London witnessing a murder that disappears from official record. The unanswered moment propels him into an investigation that intersects with contested spaces, unseen influence, and longstanding tensions.
Jack’s attempt to report the crime results in complete dismissal, prompting him to follow discreet signs into places steeped in unspoken conflict. The narrow streets of Chinatown reveal a network of rival groups balancing shifting control while disappearances persist without public response. Jack’s encounters, including one with a woman whose past is intertwined with these forces, add complexity to the information he gathers. As he examines how disparate elements connect, he confronts individuals intent on maintaining silence where their authority is most effective. His effort to uncover what transpired reflects broader dynamics shaping interactions across the city’s hidden districts.
It had been a long time since he had been so demolished. This was the day he committed himself to make up for lost time. It was a clear, moonlit evening, the city’s gaslights blazing, but his disorientation was so intense that for all he knew he could have been wrapped mummy-like in the fog.
At the age of twenty-two, he had been drunk innumerable times in innumerable places. One could fairly say he had earned an advanced degree in inebriation at the school of John Barleycorn. Truth be told, he had never cared for the taste of liquor, but that was hardly the point. He cradled the glass to grease the wheels of camaraderie or to establish his manly credentials among hard-drinking men. And if not that, to ameliorate the bouts of depression he was prone to or simply to escape the hardships of growing up poor and being forced to become a work beast from a very early age. This day, he was intent on doing a deep dive, swimming down into the current of forgetfulness, stealing a glimpse of oblivion, even while knowing that it was a transitory experience, that he must at some point rise back up and burst painfully onto the surface. With his head pounding and body wracked, he would once again have to face the reminders of failure: the stream of rejection letters, the dashed-off notes declaring his writing unfit for public consumption.
Had these editors embraced so much hackwork that they could no longer discern honest, robust writing? Did they really favor gross sentimentality over impassioned realism? Yes, he was of a raw age, but he knew he had experienced more of the world—and discovered more of its truth—than many men over a lifetime. He had slaved in the factories, processing jute, canning fish, shoveling coal. He had pirated oysters along the bay before switching sides to enforce the marine law. He had ridden the rails west to east, seen the fat Iowa farm country, marveled at Niagara Falls in the moonlight, endured the living hell of jail as a convicted vagrant and walked the slums of New York City. He had braved the Pacific on a seal hunter, stepping ashore in Japan. And he had met the ultimate physical and mental challenges prospecting for gold in the unforgiving wilderness of the Yukon.
Yet these smug literary gatekeepers kept themselves cloistered in their offices, stooping to consider the supplications of someone they surely regarded as a lesser mortal. Would they care to know how hard Jack had labored since returning from the goldfields in midsummer, how he had disciplined himself to sleep no more than five and a half hours a night and chained himself to the writing desk except for brief meals and the occasional odd job? How he had churned out short stories, essays, poems, even jokes, any kind of writing he could think of, desperate to make the handful of dollars that would allow him a decent living and help support the family? No, of course they wouldn’t care. He would have taken soulful satisfaction in reaching out, grabbing them by the lapels and shaking them until their brains rattled. Since that was not feasible, he had sought solace in the bottle.
Where the hell am I?That’s the existential question, isn’t it? There was nothing more existential than struggling to put one foot in front of the other, to keep from falling down and possibly being trampled by the carefree souls out for an evening of entertainment or being kicked or robbed by those malevolent ones looking for a sadistic thrill or profit. He took a tiny measure of relief in realizing he was staggering along the sidewalk and not in the street where a horse-and-carriage might thunder over him, pounding him into the cobblestones. So, where? Washington Street? Montgomery? Likely one or the other, since he had just tried to gain admission to the Bank Exchange Saloon, with its crystal chandeliers, marble embellishments and elegant oil paintings. It wasn’t really his sort of place—too refined, too welcoming to the lawyers and well-heeled capitalists that he disdained. But he fancied invading it just for amusement’s sake. Not surprisingly, the saloonkeeper ejected him. Just as well, he told himself, since the taste of the bar’s renowned Pisco Punch would have been lost on him.
He had begun his odyssey in late afternoon at his favorite watering-hole, Heinold’s First and Last Chance Saloon, which teetered on pilings on the Oakland waterfront, not far from his home.
“What’s up with you, Jack?” asked Johnny Heinold, who was used to seeing him huddling with a dictionary at a side table rather than elbow-bent at the bar. “You got writer’s block?”
Writer’s block? Jack had to laugh. The spigot of his creativity was gushing. The problem was, the magazines and newspapers weren’t thirsty for it. “No, just need something to warm the blood in my veins after writing about all those freezing nights in the Klondike.”
About the Author
Ray M. Schultze is the author of six novels, five of them works of suspense—The Last Safe Place, Combustion, The Devil in Dreamland, Decatur’s Dig, and Beranek’s Stand. His most recent novel, Russian River, is historical fiction. His interest in writing began in childhood with a handmade, folded-paper “magazine” that his mother encouraged. After graduating from the University of California at Riverside, he pursued newspaper reporting as a practical way to support himself while writing fiction. Over a twenty-five-year career, he covered politics, the legal system, and education for newspapers in California, Florida, and Arizona. When he turned to fiction full-time, he drew inspiration from authors such as Alan Furst and Ken Follett. Ray now lives in Santa Rosa, California, with his wife, Judi. They enjoy tennis, hiking, exploring the region’s beaches and headlands, and international travel—experiences that often shape his novels’ settings. He is also an award-winning woodworking artist. Visit him at his website.
She never had anything and he lost everything, but together they create a Christmas to remember.
Title: CINDER BELLA (‘TIS THE SEASON BOOK 3)
Author: Kathleen Shoop
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 228
Genre: Historical Fiction
Format: Hardcover, Paperback, Audiobook, Kindle / FREE on Kindle Unlimited
She never had anything.
He lost everything.
Together they create a Christmas to remember.
December, 1893–Shadyside, Pennsylvania
Bella Darling lives in a cozy barn at
Maple Grove, an estate owned by industrialist Archibald Westminster. The
Westminster family is stranded overseas and have sent word to relieve
all employees of their duties except Margaret, the pregnant maid, James
the butler, and Bella. Content with borrowed books and a toasty home
festooned with pine boughs and cinnamon sticks, she coaxes the old hens
to lay eggs–extraordinary eggs. Bella yearns for just one thing—someone
to share her life with. Always inventive, she has a plan for that. She
just needs the right egg into the hands of the right man.
Bartholomew Baines, a Harvard-educated
banker, is reeling in the aftermath of his bank’s collapse. With his
friends and fiancé ostracizing him for what he thought was an act of
generosity, he is penniless and alone. A kind woman welcomes him into
her boarding house under conditions that he reluctantly accepts.
Completely undone by his current, lowly position, and by the motley crew
of fellow boarders who view him as one of them, Bartholomew wrestles
with how to rebuild.
With the special eggs as the impetus,
the first meeting between Bella and Bartholomew gives each the wrong
idea about the other. And when the boarding house burns down a week
before Christmas it’s Bella who is there to lend a hand. She, Margaret,
and James invite the homeless group to stay at the estate through the
holidays. But as Christmas draws closer, eviction papers arrive. Maple
Grove is being foreclosed upon. Can Bella work her magic and save their
Christmas? Is the growing attraction between Bella and Bartholomew
enough for them to see past their differences?
He didn’t know how long he’d been daydreaming before excited murmurs drew him back to the line he was standing in and his assigned errand. So distracted by his childhood memories, he hadn’t even noticed the egg girl arriving and fitting her bin into the table space the bread lady had cleared. But he did watch as the bread lady hugged the egg lady and though he could see her only from behind, he could tell the egg girl was much younger. A scuffle in the line drew his attention to two women in front of him, one shouldering ahead of another for the “best selection of the special eggs.”
The dustup died down when the bread lady huddled up to referee. The egg girl was prancing away looking like she had the world on a leash, like he used to feel every day. Imagine feeling like that in such dire times. He watched those ahead of him gently place eggs in their baskets, only permitted to select twelve at most. None of them picked up eggs and weighed them in their palm. Choosing in the hopes of winning a double yolk was apparently only the desire of Mrs. Tillman and as he inched closer to his turn he was growing more self-conscious about what he had been commissioned to do.
When it was his turn he followed his orders, picking up each egg, closing his eyes and feeling the weight or whatever in his palm before either placing the egg back in the box and selecting another or putting it into the basket.
When he’d gotten to egg number six the woman behind him pinched the back of his arm. Not that it hurt through layers of clothing, but it startled him. “What?”
“What is right, all right. Think I got all day and night to wait for you to court each egg like it’s the princess you’re taking to the Christmas ball?”
He flinched and stared at the woman. Sooty cheeks and raw hands gave her station in life away. And her treatment of him caused him to lose any chance of responding. How dare she?
“Cat got your tongue, fancy pants? Let’s go or I’ll butt right in front of you.”
“Yeah, get the lead out,” another voice came from farther down the line.
“Ain’t got all day, sailor,” a third heckler joined in.
He lifted his basket. “I’ve been issued specific instructions for—”
A snowball smacked into his back, shutting him up. He spun around and scanned the crowd for who’d thrown it.
“See, even people not in line with us are tired of your mouth. Move it.” The woman behind him held his gaze.
He’d never felt so… he didn’t even know how to describe how this treatment made him feel. He tried to stop himself from rattling off the specifics of his resume and instead went with the general query of, “Don’t you know who I am?”
Another snowball thwapped his back.
“A regular jackass,” someone said from down the line.
He turned again to see who’d hit him with the snowball and the woman behind him used the opening to slide in front. He turned back and stuck his hand into the box, blocking her out. “I’ll hurry. Just let me get the other six.”
She crossed her arms, the baskets resting in the crook of each bent elbow. “Six seconds for six eggs. Get on with it, moneybags.”
“Thank you,” he said. He reached for an egg and lifted it in his palm as he had the others.
The woman started counting one, two, three and the rest of the line joined in. They were serious about him moving quicker. Mrs. Tillman would just have to understand. He didn’t doubt they’d toss him out of line if he didn’t just pluck eggs from the box and move on. And so he did. The last thing he wanted was to break eggs and have to shovel coal or something to make up for it when he got back to Mrs. Tillman’s.
“I have things to do, too, you know,” Bartholomew said. “You folks aren’t the only ones with obligations and—”
“Yeah, whada you have to do today, change into other pairs of fancy pants another three times before burrowing into a bed laid with golden goose feathers?” the woman who’d pinched him asked.
His tongue tied, but he didn’t stop himself from responding. “Uh…”
“Uh? Smoke a pipe of the finest tobacco? Yeah, what else? Sit all day with the paper while someone shines your shoes?” another voice from down the line said.
He straightened, face burning hot, blindly plucking eggs from the pile and placing them into his sack. All of those things would have been fairly close to his daily life before. Before it all crashed around him. “No. Newspapers, yes, but for the market reports and…” Suddenly his studying the news of the day seemed like a luxury instead of the work it was when pronouncing the task to the particular crew waiting in line. Suddenly, he had no words at all. “Forget it.” It was as though none of them knew he was a nice guy. It was as though they assumed he’d done something awful—that it was written across his forehead. He hesitated before moving to pay, considering whether to give them an education in all his achievements and good works. But the woman muscling past him sapped the last bit of energy he had that morning.
He paid and stalked away having been saturated with enough degradation to last the day, to last a century.
– Excerpted from Cinder Bella by Kathleen Shoop, Independent, 2021. Reprinted with permission.
About the Author
Bestselling author Kathleen Shoop, PhD writes historical fiction, women’s fiction, and romance. Shoop’s novels have garnered awards in the Independent Publisher Book Awards (IPPY), Eric Hoffer Book Awards, Next Generation Indie Book Awards, and more. You can find Kathleen in person at various venues. She’s on the board of the Kerr Memorial Museum, teaches at writing/reader conferences, co-coordinates Mindful Writers Retreats and writing conferences, and gives talks at various book clubs, libraries, and historical societies.
