Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Red Sky over Hawaii by Sara Ackerman

Hi, everyone!

Today is my turn on the Harlequin Trade Publishing 2020 Summer Reads Historical Fiction Blog Tour. I am very excited to be sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for RED SKY OVER HAWAII by Sara Ackerman.

Below you will find a short author Q&A, an about the book section, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author’s section and the author’s social media links. Enjoy!

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Author Q&A

Q: Would you tell us what inspired you to write Red Sky Over Hawaii?

A: I’ll start with saying that Hawaii Volcanoes National Park (the setting) is one of my favorite places. There is a vast and unearthly beauty there, with a unique rainforest and ecosystem. I spend a lot of time exploring the backcountry and lava flows in the area. One day several years ago, I came upon a rustic old house tucked away in a remote part of the park. You would never even know it’s there. Needless to say, I was intrigued. When I dug deeper and found the house was originally built as a hideaway house in 1941 in case of a Japanese invasion, I knew I had to write a book about it someday. A year or so later, I met a woman who told me about her friend’s mother, who had been a little girl during the attack on Pearl Harbor and how her parents had been taken away and held for over a year by the FBI because they were German. I tracked down that story, which broke my heart, and decided I would merge the two and loosely base my story on them. Also, I’ve always been fascinated at how ordinary people band together during crises, and at the human capacity for resilience, so I wanted to explore this in my novel.

Q: Which character in this novel do you most relate to and why?

A: I would have to say Lana, though Coco might come in a close second. Lana was at one of those difficult crossroads in life, where everything seems to fall apart at once. Though the events of her life are different than mine, I’ve been through these periods where everything looks bleak and you have to pull it together just to survive. 

Q: What challenged you the most while writing this story?

A: In terms of life, I had recently lost my father, and so writing about Lana’s father Jack and the house felt very parallel (my father was an architect who built his own house) to my own experience. It was a very emotional book for me to write, and yet I think it also helped me to work through my own grief. In terms of the writing, I didn’t have a whole lot to go on in terms of books or resources of what it was like at Volcano during the war. I’d had the opposite problem with The Lieutenant’s Nurse, since that was about Pearl Harbor. Luckily, I found one publication put out by the National Parks Service that saved me. I also had a few kupuna (elders) here that shared their memories with me. We are running out of living references from WWII, so I feel honored to get to talk story with them.

Q: You must do a lot of research for your writing. What was something interesting you learned while compiling research for this book? 

A: When I set out to write it, I knew about the detainment camp at KMC (Kilauea Military Camp) but I had no idea that there was so much military activity up there. In early 1942 the Army 27th Infantry Division set up headquarters there and patrolled coastlines and trained for  another anticipated invasion. When researching, there are always so many unexpected things that turn up. I love it!

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About the Book

For fans of Chanel Cleeton and Beatriz Williams, RED SKY OVER HAWAII is historical women’s fiction set in the islands during WWII. It’s the story of a woman who has to put her safety and her heart on the line when she becomes the unexpected guardian of a misfit group and decides to hide with them in a secret home in the forest on Kilauea Volcano.

The attack on Pearl Harbor changes everything for Lana Hitchcock. Arriving home on the Big Island too late to reconcile with her estranged father, all she can do is untangle the clues of his legacy, which lead to a secret property in the forest on Kilauea Volcano. America has been drawn into WWII, and amid rumors of impending invasion, the army places the islands under martial law. When they start taking away neighbors as possible sympathizers, Lana finds herself suddenly guardian to two girls, as well as accomplice to an old family friend who is Japanese, along with his son. In a heartbeat, she makes the decision to go into hiding with them all.

The hideaway house is not what Lana expected, revealing its secrets slowly, and things become even more complicated by the interest of Major Grant Bailey, a soldier from the nearby internment camp. Lana is drawn to him, too, but needs to protect her little group. With a little help from the magic on the volcano, Lana finds she can open her bruised heart to the children–and maybe to Grant.

A lush and evocative novel about doing what is right against the odds, following your heart, and what makes a family.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/51797971-red-sky-over-hawaii

Red Sky Over Hawaii: A Novel 

Sara Ackerman

On Sale Date: June 9, 2020

9780778309673, 0778309673

Trade Paperback

$17.99 USD, $22.99 CAD

Fiction / Historical / World War II 

352 pages

MIRA Books

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

RED SKY OVER HAWAII by Sara Ackerman is a historical fiction/romance story set in the Hawaiian Islands and begins right before the attack on Pearl Harbor. This new to me author had me immersed in the beautiful island setting which suddenly becomes full of suspicion and peril.

Lana Hitchcock’s marriage is over on all but the paper, when she receives a call from her estranged father. She rushes to the hospital, but her father is dead when she arrives. Lana returns to her father’s home and meets the new neighbors who are German immigrants. With the recent bombing on Pearl Harbor Lana suddenly finds herself responsible for the couple’s two young daughters when they are taken away for questioning by the FBI. As they plan to leave to the home her father left her as a secret escape in the rainforest of the Kilauea volcano, she also takes her father’s old Japanese friend and his son before they are rounded up by the FBI, also.

As they struggle to keep their secrets, they also begin to come together as a family unit. Then Lana meets Major Grant Bailey, who runs the interment camp down the road from their home in Volcano. She feels there is something special between them, but she has to keep all of her charges safe. They keep running into each other and they become closer, but Lana’s secret is about to be revealed and Grant hates liars. Then what will happen to Lana and the children?

This story is written around many historical events that occurred on the islands, but the focus is on the fictional characters. Lana started off so wounded and almost immediately becomes responsible for four other peoples lives while she is still floundering in her own. As Lana begins to connect with the girls, she does so by teaching them things her father taught her about the strength and beauty of nature. The youngest, Coco was the character I loved the most with her affinity to all the animals and her connection to the magic of the island. I felt the initial reaction of Grant to Benji, because he was Japanese was believable and I liked how Lana was told to teach him to see beyond his prejudice, not get mad at it.

This story has the anxiety of separation, loss and the unknown due to war, but then it also shows how all the characters work to build trust and love to survive together. The author was able to weave all the emotions, characters and lush island beauty into a thought provoking and engaging read.

I recommend this book for those who love the 1940’s setting and history, but the main focus for me were the characters.

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Excerpt

THE ROAD

December 8, 1941

WITH EVERY MILE CLOSER TO VOLCANO, THE FOG thickened, until they were driving through a forest of white gauze with the occasional branch showing through. Lana considered turning the truck around no less than forty-six times. Going back to Hilo would have been the prudent thing to do, but this was not a time for prudence. Of that she was sure. She slowed the Chevy to a crawl and checked the rearview mirror. The cage with the geese was now invisible, and she could barely make out the dog’s big black spots.

Maybe the fog would be to their advantage.

“I don’t like it here at all,” said Coco, who was smashed up next to Lana, scrawny arms folded in protest. The child had to almost yell to be heard above the chug of the motor.

Lana grabbed a blanket from the floor. “Put this over you. It should help.”

Coco shook her head. “I’m not cold. I want to go home. Can you please take us back?”

Goose bumps had formed up and down her limbs, but she was so stubborn that she had refused to put on a jacket. True, Hilo was insufferably hot, but where they were headed—four thousand feet up the mountain—the air was cold and damp and flimsy.

It had been over ten years since Lana had set foot at Kı¯lauea. Never would she have guessed to be returning under these circumstances.

Marie chimed in. “We can’t go back now, sis. And anyway, there’s no one to go back to at the moment.”

Poor Coco trembled. Lana wished she could hug the girl and tell her everything was going to be okay. But that would be a lie. Things were liable to get a whole lot worse before they got any better.

“Sorry, honey. I wish things were different, but right now you two are my priority. Once we get to the house, we can make a plan,” Lana said.

“But you don’t even know where it is,” Coco whined.

“I have a good idea.”

More like a vague notion.

“What if we don’t find it by dark? Are they going to shoot us?” Coco said.

Marie put her arm around Coco and pulled her in. “Turn off that little overactive imagination of yours. No one is going to shoot us,” she said, but threw a questioning glance Lana’s way.

“We’ll be fine,” Lana said, wishing she believed that.

The girls were not the real problem here. Of greater concern was what they had hidden in the back of the truck. Curfew was six o’clock, but people had been ordered to stay off the roads unless their travel was essential to the war. Lana hadn’t told the girls that. Driving up here was a huge risk, but she had invented a story she hoped and prayed would let them get through if anyone stopped them. The thought of a checkpoint caused her palms to break out in sweat, despite the icy air blowing in through the cracks in the floorboard.

On a good day, the road from Hilo to Volcano would take about an hour and a half. Today was not a good day. Every so often they hit a rut the size of a whiskey barrel that bounced her head straight into the roof. The continuous drizzle of the rain forest had undermined all attempts at smooth roads here. At times the ride was reminiscent of the plane ride from Honolulu. Exactly two days ago, but felt more like a lifetime.

Lana’s main worry was what they would encounter once in the vicinity of the national park entrance. With the Kı¯lauea military camp nearby, there were bound to be soldiers and roadblocks in the area. She had so many questions for her father and felt a mixed ache of sadness and resentment that he was not here to answer them. How were you so sure the Japanese were coming? Why the volcano, of all places? How are we going to survive up here? Why didn’t you call me sooner?

Coco seemed to settle down, leaning her nut-brown ringlets against her sister’s shoulder and closing her eyes. There was something comforting in the roar of the engine and the jostle of the truck. With the whiteout it was hard to tell where they were, but by all estimates they should be arriving soon.

Lana was dreaming of a cup of hot coffee when Coco sat upright and said, “I have to go tinkle.”

“Tinkle?” Lana asked.

Marie said, “She means she has to go to the bathroom.”

They drove until they found a grassy shoulder, and Lana pulled the truck aside, though they could have stopped in the middle of the road. They had met only one other vehicle the whole way, a police car that fortunately had passed by.

The rain had let up, and they all climbed out. It was like walking through a cloud, and the air smelled metallic and faintly lemony from the eucalyptus that lined the road. Lana went to check on Sailor. The dog stood up and whined, yanking on the rope around her neck, straining to be pet. Poor thing was drenched and shaking. Lana had wanted to leave her behind with a neighbor, but Coco had put up such a fuss, throwing herself onto her bed and wailing and punching the pillow, that Lana relented. Caring for the girls would be hard enough, but a hundred-and-twenty-pound dog?

“Just a bathroom stop. Is everyone okay back here?” she asked in a hushed voice. Two low grunts came from under the tarp. “We should be there soon. Remember, be still and don’t make a sound if we stop again.”

As if on cue, one of the hidden passengers started a coughing fit, shaking the whole tarp. She wondered how wise it was to subject him to this long and chilly ride, and if it might be the death of him. But the alternative was worse.

“Deep breaths…you can do it,” Lana said.

Coco showed up and hopped onto the back tire. “I think we should put Sailor inside with us. She looks miserable.”

“Whose lap do you propose she sits on?” Lana said.

Sailor was as tall as a small horse, but half as wide.

“I can sit in the back of the truck and she can come up here, then,” Coco said in all seriousness.

“Not in those clothes you won’t. We don’t need you catching pneumonia on us.”

They started off again, and ten seconds down the road, Sailor started howling at the top of her lungs. Lana felt herself on the verge of unraveling. The last thing they needed was one extra ounce of attention. The whole idea of coming up here was preposterous when she thought about it. At the time it had seemed like a good idea, but now she wondered at her sanity.

“What is wrong with that dog?” Lana said, annoyed.

Coco turned around, and Lana felt her hot breath against her arm. In the smallest of voices, she said, “Sailor is scared.”

Lana felt her heart crack. “Oh, honey, we’re all a bit scared.

It’s perfectly normal under the circumstances. But I promise you this—I will do everything in my power to keep you out of harm’s way.”

“But you hardly know us,” Coco said.

“My father knew you, and you knew him, right?” Lana said. “And remember, if anyone asks, we tell them our story.”

They had rehearsed it many times already, but with kids one could never be sure. Not that Lana had much experience with kids. With none of her own and no nieces or nephews in the islands, she felt the lack palpably, smack in the center of her chest. There had been a time when she saw children in her future, but that dream had come and gone and left her sitting on the curb with a jarful of tears.

Her mind immediately went to Buck. Strange how your future with a person could veer so far off course from how you’d originally pictured it. How the one person you swore you would have and hold could end up wreaking havoc on your heart instead. She blinked the thought away.

As they neared Volcano, the fog remained like a curtain, but the air around them brightened. Lana knew from all her time up here as a young girl that the trees got smaller as the elevation rose, and the terrain changed from towering eucalyptus and fields of yellow-and-white ginger to a more cindery terrain covered with red-blossomed ‘ohi‘a trees, and prehistoriclooking ha¯pu’u ferns and the crawling uluhe. At one time in her life, this had been one of her happiest places. Coco reached for the letter on the dashboard and began reading it for the fourth time. “Coco Hitchcock. It sounds funny.” The paper was already getting worn.

Marie swiped it out of her hands. “You’re going to ruin that. Give it to me.”

Where Coco was whip thin and dark and spirited—a nice way of putting it—Marie was blonde and full-bodied and sweet as coconut taffy. But Lana could tell even Marie’s patience was wearing thin.

“Mrs. Hitchcock said we need to memorize our new names or we’ll be shot.”

Lana said as calmly as she could, “I never said anything of the sort. And, Coco, you have to get used to calling me Aunt Lana for now. Both of you do.”

“And stop talking about getting shot,” Marie added, rolling her eyes.

If they could all just hold it together a little bit longer.

There was sweat pooling between her breasts and behind her kneecaps. Lying was not her strong suit, and she was hoping that, by some strange miracle, they could sail on through without anyone stopping them. She rolled her window down a couple of inches for a burst of fresh air. “We’re just about here. So if we get stopped, let me do the talking. Speak only if someone asks you a direct question, okay?”

Neither girl said anything; they both just nodded. Lana could almost see the fear condensing on the windshield. And pretty soon little Coco started sniffling. Lana would have said something to comfort her, but her mind was void of words. Next the sniffles turned into heaving sobs big enough to break the poor girl in half. Marie rubbed her hand up and down Coco’s back in a warm, smooth circle.

“You can cry when we get there, but no tears now,” she said.

Tears and snot were smeared across Coco’s face in one big shiny layer. “But they might kill Mama and Papa.” Her face was pinched and twisted into such anguish that Lana had to fight back a sob of her own.


Excerpted from Red Sky Over Hawaii by Sara Ackerman, Copyright © 2020 by Sara Sckerman. Published by MIRA Books.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sara Ackerman is the USA Today bestselling author of The Lieutenant’s Nurse and Island of Sweet Pies and Soldiers. Born and raised in Hawaii, she studied journalism and earned graduate degrees in psychology and Chinese medicine. She blames Hawaii for her addiction to writing, and sees no end to its untapped stories. When she’s not writing or teaching, you’ll find her in the mountains or in the ocean. She currently lives on the Big Island with her boyfriend and a houseful of bossy animals. Find out more about Sara and her books at www.ackermanbooks.com and follow her on Instagram @saraackermanbooks and on FB @ackermanbooks.

SOCIAL LINKS

Author Website

Facebook: @ackermanbooks

Twitter: @AckermanBooks

Instagram: @saraackermanbooks

Pinterest

BUY LINKS

Barnes & Noble

IndieBound

Bookshop.org

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Feature Post and Book Review: In Bed with the Earl by Christi Caldwell

Hi, everyone!

Today I am excited to share my Feature Post and Book Review for Christi Caldwell’s new book IN BED WITH THE EARL (Lost Lords of London Book #1).

Below you will find an author guest post, a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an author bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Good luck and enjoy!

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Author Guest Post: Flaws Make the Man  

My newest release, In Bed with the Earl, features an unlikely Regency hero. He was born to nobility, was kidnapped, and grew up in the roughest streets of London, as a ‘tosher’…a sewer scavenger. Nothing about Malcom or his past is in any way conventional, but he also represents how our pasts shape who we are. And there is no doubting, his past molded him into who he is… a man who doesn’t let people close…and who protects what he does have. Which is why…when he does meet Verity, someone who wants to be close for him (first, for reasons related to her work…and then, the more she knows him, simply because she’s falling for him) he resists.

People are impacted by life, in different ways. We all have many layers; and for Malcom, those layers are protective ones; a shield to protect himself from being hurt…because he’s already known so much. Yes, he’s coarse and ragged, and rough, but beneath that, readers (I hope) will see what Verity sees…that he has a good heart, and is deserving of a happily-ever-after, not only for who he is to others, but because, with the life he’s lived, he deserves it for himself. 

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Summary

To solve a mystery that’s become the talk of the ton, no clues run too deep for willful reporter Verity Lovelace. Not even in the sewers of London. That’s precisely where she finds happily self-sufficient scavenger Malcom North, lost heir to the Earl of Maxwell. Now that Verity’s made him front-page news, what will he make of her?

Kidnapped as a child, with no memories of his well-heeled past, Malcom prefers the grimy spoils of the culverts to the gilded riches of society. Damn the feisty beauty who exposed the contented tosher to a parade of fortune-hunting matchmakers. How to keep them at bay? Verity must pretend to be his wife. She owes him.

The intimacy of this necessary arrangement—Verity and Malcom thrust together in close quarters—soon sparks an irresistible heat. But when the charade ends, the danger begins. Will love be enough to protect them from a treacherous plot devised to ruin them?

About the Book

Title: In Bed with the Earl

Author: Christi Caldwell

Release Date: March 17, 2020

Publisher: Montlake

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My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

IN BED WITH THE EARL (Lost Lords of London Book #1) by Christi Caldwell is the first book in a new historical romance series that had me engrossed from page one!

While sick in bed and his parents dead, Percival Northrop is kidnapped and his life becomes a day to day struggle to survive in the St. Giles area of Victorian London. He blocks his memory of his younger life and learns the life of a tosher. He is now known as Malcolm North and is ruthless as he fights to survive and thrive in the sewers of London.

Malcolm does not quite fit with his fellow toshers. He can read, calculate and speaks as if he is upper class. He is located by a private detective and told that he is the actual true heir to an Earldom. Malcom wants nothing to do with that life.

Verity Lovelace has worked for The Londoner since she was twelve years old. She worked her way from inkwell girl to reporter, but because she is a woman she is only given the opportunity to write the gossip column. She is the bastard daughter of an Earl and has been the sole support for her sister and nursemaid for years since her mother died. After having one of her stories stolen, her job is on the line and she must find the missing Earl and interview him or be out of a work.

Verity is rescued in the sewers by Malcolm. The two butt heads as Verity refuses to be give up her chase of the story. Malcolm has never let anyone get close, but there is something about this female that he cannot forget. Verity is determined to get her story, but is she ready to pay the price?

I loved Malcom and Verity so much! I could not put this book down. Malcolm’s fight for survival and life as a tosher was interesting and a life that was new to me. Even as he refused his memories and emotions, he took care of others. Verity was a survivor as much as Malcolm and that is what made them so perfect for each other. The author’s writing is emotionally charged banter that made me laugh out loud as well as tear up. The sexual tension between these two was well written and there is only one sex scene towards the very end of the story. It is explicit, but not gratuitous. All the secondary characters were fully fleshed and wonderful additions to the story.

I highly recommend this historical romance and I am waiting anxiously for the next book in this series!

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Excerpt: In Bed with the Earl by Christi Caldwell

“May I help you, Miss Lovelace?” 

That lethal purr sounded from the front of the room, a silky taunt. 

With a gasp, the page slipped from her fingers and fluttered to a damning place at her feet. 

Mr. Bram yanked the cloths from his eyes, and he took in Verity beside Mr. North’s open desk. And all the color left his face. “Oh, bloody hell.” 

Oh, bloody hell, indeed. And all thoughts of having been rescued by a savior, and even the importance of this story, fled in the face of the danger staring back at her in his ruthless gaze. 

He is going to kill me… 

Verity swallowed hard. “If you’ll excuse us?” Mr. North murmured. 

Verity took a step toward the door. 

“Not you, Miss Lovelace.” 

Mr. Bram climbed awkwardly to his feet. “Oi’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely, an apology that went ignored by Mr. North. 

Her heart lurched. Every muscle in her body lurched. This was bad. Which would have been the understated statement of the century. She curled her toes into the soles of her borrowed slippers and followed the stranger’s—nay, he was no longer a stranger in name—the Earl of Maxwell’s gaze. As dread slowly wound its way through her, Verity curled those digits all the tighter. 

And as it was all the easier to focus on matters within her control, she looked to her older patient as he limped across the room. “Be sure and try out those remedies, Mr. Bram.” She felt Mr. North sharpen his gaze on her person. “And I’ve something that might help with that limp, too,” she promised. 

The older man stopped. “Do ya, now?” 

She may as well have promised him the sun, moon, and stars for the way he looked at her. “Oh, yes. You’ll require—” 

“Bram,” Mr. North snapped, and the older man instantly scuttled off, but not before flashing her an apologetic look. 

“It is really not Mr. Bram’s fault. He’s not done anything wrong. You really shouldn’t take your…” 

Not taking his eyes from her person, he reached behind him with an agonizing slowness and drew the door shut. Click. That soft but decisive snap that served as a seal of her fate. 

Just like that, Verity’s bravado flagged. She clutched at the fabric of her skirts. Wanting to be the composed reporter gathering her research, and undaunted in the face of peril. 

And she came up … pathetically empty. 

That cold smile affixed to hard lips remained in place, a grin that no person would dare mistake for anything but the feral threat it was. He pushed away from the door and started a languid stroll toward her. 

Had she truly been relieved about determining the identity of her savior and captor?

It was now all muddled. 

“Now, Miss Lovelace? If that is your name?” 

“M-my name?” Wasn’t it? Even her name eluded her in that moment. “Of course it is.” Her voice ended on a croak as he drew ever closer; the ice that frosted his gaze sprang her to the reality now facing her, the menace that spilled from his broad frame. Mayhap she’d been wrong. Because she’d experience with earls—was, in fact, the daughter of one. They were nothing like the predatory devil that stalked her now. “I am Miss Verity Lovelace. What grounds would I have to lie?” She hurried to place the chair of his desk between them as another barrier. 

He stopped his pursuit. “And how may I help you?” 

Ironically, the stranger—the gentleman—could have uttered no truer words than those. 

They fortified her, and sent resolve creeping back into her spine as she brought her shoulders back. Verity met his gaze squarely. “Are you the Earl of Maxwell?” 

Except, she already knew as much … she simply sought the confirmation from the gentleman’s mouth. 

His eyes grew shuttered, but not before she caught the flash of horror in their blue-black depths.

He was a man unaccustomed to being challenged. And his unsettledness eased away further frissons of fear. Verity slid out from behind his desk chair and glided slowly across the room. She stopped when only a handful of steps separated her from the very stranger who’d put a knife to her earlier that night. 

“Do I look like an earl?” he countered, belated with that reply—that deliberately evasive one. 

Taking that as an invitation to study him, Verity peered at Mr. North. That slightly hooked nose, which had been broken one or more times, did little to conceal the aquiline appendage that served as a signal of his birthright. The small white nicks and scars merely marred a canvas of otherwise flawless high, chiseled cheeks and a hard, square jawline. 

Glorious. Her pulse throbbed a beat harder. His features, melded with those flaws, only served to mark him beautiful in his masculinity. 

His mouth crept up in a tight, one-sided smile that didn’t meet pitiless eyes. “Did you have a good look, Miss Lovelace?”  He’d noted her appreciation. Verity’s cheeks burnt, and she curled her toes into the soles of her borrowed slippers. He merely sought to disconcert her. It was a familiar state she’d found herself many times before, with many men before him. Feigning nonchalance, Verity gave her head a little toss. “You have the look and the tones of an earl,” she pointed out. “And more…” She gestured to those private missives she’d availed herself to. “You have letters written regarding the Baron Bolingbroke.” Verity stretched up on her tiptoes so she could at least hold his gaze and not be peered down at. “Therefore, Mr. North, I would say you are, in fact, the Earl of Maxwell, after all.”

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Author Biography

USA Today Bestselling, RITA-nominated author Christi Caldwell blames Julie Garwood and Judith McNaught for luring her into the world of historical romance. While sitting in her graduate school apartment at the University of Connecticut, Christi decided to set aside her notes and pick up her laptop to try her hand at romance. She believes the most perfect heroes and heroines have imperfections, and she rather enjoys torturing them before crafting them a well deserved happily ever after!

Christi makes her home in southern Connecticut where she spends her time writing her own enchanting historical romances and caring for her three spirited children!

Social Media Links

Website: http://christicaldwell.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/christicaldwell

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5297089.Christi_Caldwell

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Rafflecopter Giveaway

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/07c2363f260

Book Review: A Holiday By Gaslight: A Victorian Christmas Novella by Mimi Matthews

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

A HOLIDAY BY GASLIGHT: A VICTORIAN CHRISTMAS NOVELLA by Mimi Matthews is a beautifully written Christmas historical romance. The cover is gorgeous and the novella within will warm your heart and is perfect for the season.

Sophie Appersett is ever the dutiful eldest daughter. Sophie and her mother work hard to economize to keep the household running and her younger sister happy. Both have gone to London for the season. Sophie’s father is approached by a wealthy man of business to court her and Sophie is willing to marry outside of her class for the financial benefit of her family.

Mr. Edward Sharpe is instantly taken with the beautiful Sophie and he knows he is fortunate that Sophie’s family needs funds. Ned has worked hard his whole life to improve his circumstances, so he refers to “The Gentleman’s Book of Etiquette” to court Sophie properly, but Sophie does not like the perfect gentleman and breaks with Ned.

Sophie’s father is enraged when he learns what Sophie has done. Sophie’s mother though is ever practical and has a heart to heart with her daughter. Sophie is willing to give Mr. Sharpe another chance and invites Ned to the Appersett Christmas house party with the ground rules that both shall be honest with each other and they will work to get to know their true selves.

This is a novella that had me finishing it all in one sitting. Ms. Matthews writes with a beautiful style, accuracy and knowledge of the Victorian era so that you just fall into the story and feel like you are present. Ned and Sophie are wonderful characters and the way they fall in love is sweet, romantic and era appropriate. All the secondary characters are well fleshed out and add depth to the story and settings. For a novella length story, everything I could wish for is present and I did not feel slighted at all by the shorter length.

A wonderful Christmas historical novella that I can highly recommend.

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Princess Plan by Julia London

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing the Feature Post and Book Review for Julia London’s first book in her new A Royal Wedding series – THE PRINCESS PLAN.

Below you will find a book summary, an excerpt from the book, my book review and the author’s bio and social media links.

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The Princess Plan 

London, Julia 

FICTION/Romance/Historical/Victorian 

Mass Market | HQN Books | A Royal Wedding 

On Sale: 11/19/2019  

9781335041531

$7.99

$10.99 CAN

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Book Summary

Princes have pomp and glory—not murdered secretaries and crushes on commoners

Nothing gets London’s high society’s tongues wagging like a good scandal. And when the personal secretary of the visiting Prince Sebastian of Alucia is found murdered, it’s all anyone can talk about, including Eliza Tricklebank. Her unapologetic gossip gazette has benefitted from an anonymous tip about the crime, prompting Sebastian to take an interest in playing detective—and an even greater one in Eliza.

With a trade deal on the line and mounting pressure to secure a noble bride, there’s nothing more salacious than a prince dallying with a commoner. Sebastian finds Eliza’s contrary manner as frustrating as it is seductive, but they’ll have to work together if they’re going to catch the culprit. And when things heat up behind closed doors, it’s the prince who’ll have to decide what comes first—his country or his heart.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

London 1845

All of London has been on tenterhooks, desperate for a glimpse of Crown Prince Sebastian of Alucia during his highly anticipated visit. Windsor Castle was the scene of Her Majesty’s banquet to welcome him. Sixty-and-one-hundred guests were on hand, feted in St. George’s Hall beneath the various crests of the Order of the Garter. Two thousand pieces of silver cutlery were used, one thousand crystal glasses and goblets. The first course and main dish of lamb and potatoes were served on silver-gilded plates, followed by delicate fruits on French porcelain.

Prince Sebastian presented a large urn fashioned of green Alucian malachite to our Queen Victoria as a gift from his father the King of Alucia. The urn was festooned with delicate ropes of gold around the mouth and the neck.

The Alucian women were attired in dresses of heavy silk worn close to the body, the trains quite long and brought up and fastened with buttons to facilitate walking. Their hair was fashioned into elaborate knots worn at the nape. The Alucian gentlemen wore formal frock coats of black superfine wool that came to midcalf, as well as heavily embroidered waistcoats worn to the hip. It was reported that Crown Prince Sebastian is “rather tall and broad, with a square face and neatly trimmed beard, a full head of hair the color of tea, and eyes the color of moss,” which the discerning reader might think of as a softer shade of green. It is said he possesses a regal air owing chiefly to the many medallions and ribbons he wore befitting his rank.

Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and Domesticity for Ladies

The Right Honorable Justice William Tricklebank, a widower and justice of the Queen’s Bench in Her Majesty’s service, was very nearly blind, his eyesight having steadily eroded into varying and fuzzy shades of gray with age. He could no longer see so much as his hand, which was why his eldest daughter, Miss Eliza Tricklebank, read his papers to him.

Eliza had enlisted the help of Poppy, their housemaid, who was more family than servant, having come to them as an orphaned girl more than twenty years ago. Together, the two of them had anchored strings and ribbons halfway up the walls of his London townhome, and all the judge had to do was follow them with his hand to move from room to room. Among the hazards he faced was a pair of dogs that were far too enthusiastic in their wish to be of some use to him, and a cat who apparently wished him dead, judging by the number of times he put himself in the judge’s path, or leapt into his lap as he sat, or walked across the knitting the judge liked to do while his daughter read to him, or unravelled his ball of yarn without the judge’s notice.

The only other potential impediments to his health were his daughters—Eliza, a spinster, and her younger sister, Hollis, otherwise known as the Widow Honeycutt. They were often together in his home, and when they were, it seemed to him there was quite a lot of laughing at this and shrieking at that. His daughters disputed that they shrieked, and accused him of being old and easily startled. But the judge’s hearing, unlike his eyesight, was quite acute, and those two shrieked with laughter. Often.

At eight-and-twenty, Eliza was unmarried, a fact that had long baffled the judge. There had been an unfortunate and rather infamous misunderstanding with one Mr. Asher Daughton-Cress, who the judge believed was despicable, but that had been ten years ago. Eliza had once been demure and a politely deferential young lady, but she’d shed any pretense of deference when her heart was broken. In the last few years she had emerged vibrant and carefree. He would think such demeanour would recommend her to gentlemen far and wide, but apparently it did not. She’d had only one suitor since her very public scandal, a gentleman some fifteen years older than Eliza. Mr. Norris had faithfully called every day until one day he did not. When the judge had inquired, Eliza had said, “It was not love that compelled him, Pappa. I prefer my life here with you—the work is more agreeable, and I suspect not as many hours as marriage to him would require.”

His youngest, Hollis, had been tragically widowed after only two years of a marriage without issue. While she maintained her own home, she and her delightful wit were a faithful caller to his house at least once a day without fail, and sometimes as much as two or three times per day. He should like to see her remarried, but Hollis insisted she was in no rush to do so. The judge thought she rather preferred her sister’s company to that of a man.

His daughters were thick as thieves, as the saying went, and were coconspirators in something that the judge did not altogether approve of. But he was blind, and they were determined to do what they pleased no matter what he said, so he’d given up trying to talk any practical sense into them.

That questionable activity was the publication of a ladies’ gazette. Tricklebank didn’t think ladies needed a gazette, much less one having to do with frivolous subjects such as fashion, gossip and beauty. But say what he might, his daughters turned a deaf ear to him. They were unfettered in their enthusiasm for this endeavour, and if the two of them could be believed, so was all of London.

The gazette had been established by Hollis’s husband, Sir Percival Honeycutt. Except that Sir Percival had published an entirely different sort of gazette, obviously— one devoted to the latest political and financial news. Now that was a useful publication to the judge’s way of thinking.

Sir Percival’s death was the most tragic of accidents, the result of his carriage sliding off the road into a swollen river during a rain, which also saw the loss of a fine pair of grays. It was a great shock to them all, and the judge had worried about Hollis and her ability to cope with such a loss. But Hollis proved herself an indomitable spirit, and she had turned her grief into efforts to preserve her husband’s name. But as she was a young woman without a man’s education, and could not possibly comprehend the intricacies of politics or financial matters, she had turned the gazette on its head and dedicated it solely to topics that interested women, which naturally would be limited to the latest fashions and the most tantalizing on dits swirling about London’s high society. It was the judge’s impression that women had very little interest in the important matters of the world.

And yet, interestingly, the judge could not deny that Hollis’s version of the gazette was more actively sought than her husband’s had ever been. So much so that Eliza had been pressed into the service of helping her sister prepare her gazette each week. It was curious to Tricklebank that so many members of the Quality were rather desperate to be mentioned among the gazette’s pages.

Today, his daughters were in an unusually high state of excitement, for they had secured the highly sought-after invitations to the Duke of Marlborough’s masquerade ball in honor of the crown prince of Alucia. One would think the world had stopped spinning on its axis and that the heavens had parted and the seas had receded and this veritable God of All Royal Princes had shined his countenance upon London and blessed them all with his presence.

Hogwash.

Everyone knew the prince was here to strike an important trade deal with the English government in the name of King Karl. Alucia was a small European nation with impressive wealth for her size. It was perhaps best known for an ongoing dispute with the neighboring country of Wesloria—the two had a history of war and distrust as fraught as that between England and France.

The judge had read that it was the crown prince who was pushing for modernization in Alucia, and who was the impetus behind the proposed trade agreement. Prince Sebastian envisioned increasing the prosperity of Alucia by trading cotton and iron ore for manufactured goods. But according to the judge’s daughters, that was not the most important part of the trade negotiations. The important part was that the prince was also in search of a marriage bargain.

“It’s what everyone says,” Hollis had insisted to her father over supper recently “And how is it, my dear, that everyone knows what the prince intends?” the judge asked as he stroked the cat, Pris, on his lap. The cat had been named Princess when the family believed it a female. When the houseman Ben discovered that Princess was, in fact, a male, Eliza said it was too late to change the name. So they’d shortened it to Pris. “Did the prince send a letter? Announce it in the Times?”

Caro says,” Hollis countered, as if that were quite obvious to anyone with half a brain where she got her information. “She knows everything about everyone, Pappa.”

“Aha. If Caro says it, then by all means, it must be true.”

“You must yourself admit she is rarely wrong,” Hollis had said with an indignant sniff.

Caro, or Lady Caroline Hawke, had been a lifelong friend to his daughters, and had been so often underfoot in the Tricklebank house that for many years, it seemed to the judge that he had three daughters.

Caroline was the only sibling of Lord Beckett Hawke and was also his ward. Long ago, a cholera outbreak had swept through London, and both Caro’s mother and his children’s mother had succumbed. Amelia, his wife, and Lady Hawke had been dear friends. They’d sent their children to the Hawke summer estate when Amelia had taken ill. Lady Hawke had insisted on caring for her friend and, well, in the end, they were both lost.

Lord Hawke was an up-and-coming young lord and politician, known for his progressive ideas in the House of Lords. He was rather handsome, Hollis said, a popular figure, and socially in high demand. Which meant that, by association, so was his sister. She, too, was quite comely, which made her presence all the easier to her brother’s many friends, the judge suspected.

But Caroline did seem to know everyone in London, and was constantly calling on the Tricklebank household to spout the gossip she’d gleaned in homes across Mayfair. Here was an industrious young lady—she called on three salons a day if she called on one. The judge supposed her brother scarcely need worry about putting food in their cupboards, for the two of them were dining with this four-and-twenty or that ten-and-six almost every night. It was a wonder Caroline wasn’t a plump little peach.

Perhaps she was. In truth, she was merely another shadow to the judge these days.

“And she was at Windsor and dined with the queen,” Hollis added with superiority.

“You mean Caro was in the same room but one hundred persons away from the queen,” the judge suggested. He knew how these fancy suppers went.

“Well, she was there, Pappa, and she met the Alucians, and she knows a great deal about them now. I am quite determined to discover who the prince intends to offer for and announce it in the gazette before anyone else. Can you imagine? I shall be the talk of London!”

This was precisely what Mr. Tricklebank didn’t like about the gazette. He did not want his daughters to be the talk of London.

But it was not the day for him to make this point, for his daughters were restless, moving about the house with an urgency he was not accustomed to. Today was the day of the Royal Masquerade Ball, and the sound of crisp petticoats and silk rustled around him, and the scent of perfume wafted into his nose when they passed. His daughters were waiting impatiently for Lord Hawke’s brougham to come round and fetch them. Their masks, he was given to understand, had already arrived at the Hawke House, commissioned, Eliza had breathlessly reported, from “Mrs. Cubison herself.”

He did not know who Mrs. Cubison was.

And frankly, he didn’t know how Caro had managed to finagle the invitations to a ball at Kensington Palace for his two daughters—for the good Lord knew the Tricklebanks did not have the necessary connections to achieve such a feat.

He could feel their eagerness, their anxiety in the nervous pitch of their giggling when they spoke to each other. Even Poppy seemed nervous. He supposed this was to be the ball by which all other balls in the history of mankind would forever be judged, but he was quite thankful he was too blind to attend.

When the knock at the door came, he was startled by such squealing and furious activity rushing by him that he could only surmise that the brougham had arrived and the time had come to go to the ball.

Excerpted from The Princess Plan by Julia London, Copyright © 2019 by Dinah Dinwiddle. Published by HQN Books.  

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My Book Review

RATING: 3 out of 5 stars

THE PRINCESS PLAN (A Royal Wedding #1) by Julia London is the first book in a new historical romance series. A Cinderella styled romance with a mystery subplot.

Prince Sebastian of Alucia is in London to officially close a trade deal with England as well as secure a noble bride. The morning after a masked ball, the personal secretary and most trusted friend of the Prince is found murdered in his bed.

Every tongue in London is wagging, but no one seems to know who is responsible. Prince Sebastian is told that a ladies’ gossip and fashion gazette has printed a rumor implicating a member of his entourage. He and his brother seek out the author.

Eliza Tricklebank is a spinster firmly on the shelf after a scandal in her youth. She lives with and assists her blind father who is a judge on the Queen’s bench. With her widowed sister, Hollis and their best friend, Carolyn, the three produce the gazette the princes seek.

Prince Sebastian does not know what to make of this commoner who has no regard to his status, but he is also intrigued. Sebastian finds Eliza frustrating, but also helpful in his quest. As they work together to uncover a killer, their attraction grows. As everything comes to a head, Sebastian will have to choose between his country or his heart.

I enjoyed Sebastian and Eliza and their banter. I also enjoyed Eliza with her sister and friend as the three always supported each other. I did feel that this story had some problems with being in the historical genre and would have been better suited in a more modern setting. No matter how enlightened, I had to suspend historical belief on the way Eliza dealt with the Prince, also at a ball when Eliza ran into the man who caused her young scandal because he was with his pregnant wife, which in no way would happen; women stayed at home when pregnant.

This is a fun, fluffy and fast read, but not my favorite by this author.

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Author Bio and Social Media Links

AUTHOR BIO

Julia London is a NYT, USA Today and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of historical and contemporary romance. She is a six-time finalist for the RITA Award of excellence in romantic fiction, and the recipient of RT Bookclub’s Best Historical Novel.

SOCIAL LINKS

 www.julialondon.com/newsletter

 www.facebook.com/julialondon

 www.twitter.com/juliaflondonwww.instagram.com/julia_f_london

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BUY LINKS

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Book Review: Lovely Digits by Jeanine Englert

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

LOVELY DIGITS by Jeanine Englert is a historical romantic suspense that I feel is perfect in every way. The romance and suspense/mystery were both perfectly balanced and intriguing. This book has a heroine with a unique occupation, a constable hero trying to right a past wrong while both work together to solve a series of murders in 1849 Clun, England.

Miss Lucy Wycliffe is a spinster, who has for the last ten years been Clun’s layer out of the dead. She ignores the gossip from the town people who feel she is unnatural for she has to support herself and help her sister who is a widow and her niece since the death of their parents. Lucy takes pride in the job she does for the dead even as she knows no man will be interested in her.

John Brodie is the new constable. He is no stranger to Clun and his acceptance of this position is meant to correct old wrongs and help him move on in the future. He wishes to help Lucy by paying her to be his assistant as they work to find the killer of Lucy’s childhood friends. He never thought he would fall in love with the beautiful and intelligent “Lovely Digits”.

The killer knows secrets from the past and has come back to not only reveal truths that could end Lucy and John’s relationship, but also their lives.

I loved this book! This historical romantic suspense focuses on a small town in England of regular people and there are no princes or dukes in sight. The clothes, language and interactions are era appropriate. Lucy’s occupation is unique, but it is also plausible. I love that Lucy is also an intelligent, strong heroine who is as heroic as John.  No sex. Hand holding and a few kisses only. The murders are investigated with old-fashioned leg work, clues obtained from the bodies and clues left by the killer.

Set time aside because I know once you start this book you will not be able to put it down! There is no cliffhanger and the story is complete, but there does seem to be a possibility of more books following John and Lucy in the future and I can only say to Ms. Englert, “Yes, please”!

Written for and posted first on The Romance Reviews.

Book Review: The MacInnes Affair by Blair McDowell

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE MacINNES AFFAIR by Blair McDowell is a contemporary romance intertwined with a historical romance with a mystery subplot. The present MacInnes and Glendenning investigate a mystery and the history tied to their MacInnes and Glendenning 19th century ancestors. This is a standalone romance read.

The Present

Canadian Lara MacInnes is getting away from her broken engagement with a trip to Athdara castle B&B in Scotland. Athdara castle has been in the Glendenning family for generations and the current generation has done everything to ensure it continues on for many more. None more so than the handsome Highlander Iain Glendenning. As Lara and Iain begin to discover how much they have in common, they also discover the journals of a long ago Glendenning woman in love with Lara’s very great-grandfather.

The Past

Elspeth Glendenning is in a carriage accident and rescued by a rugged Highlander named Lachlan MacInnes. While the clans may have been feuding since Culloden, Elspeth and Lachlan fall in love. They discover the carriage wreck was not an accident and the two are caught up in events beyond their control.

Lara and Iain research the long ago romance and historical events that intertwine their two families. As these two work to uncover a murder mystery from the past, they fall in love as well. Can this generation of MacInnes and Glendenning’s solve a mystery that persists from their clans’ past?

I really enjoyed reading this entertaining contemporary and historical romance mix. It was not what I was expecting from the genre listings on the description because it is not a time-travel or paranormal romance. It has two time-lines that intertwine, but no one travels to another time. That said, both plot-lines are well written and I never felt confused as the two stories shift from past to present and back again. The present day romance progresses at a believable pace and the historical romance is filled with situations that are appropriate to that time.

This is the type of book you can just fall into and get engrossed by the history and mystery and not want to put down. This is the first book I have read from this new to me author, but I will definitely be looking for others.

Written for and posted first on The Romance Reviews.