Honeymoon with Death is released

The latest Second Sons Inquiry Agency Regency mystery series is out: Honeymoon with Death! This is the fifth book in the Regency mystery series and the third featuring Prudence Barnard and Knighton Gaunt. For those interested in Pru and Knighton, the previous two books were:
The Vital Principle
Dead Man's View

The books don't have to be read in order, but That is the "proper order" for those interested.

Since I'm snowed in at the moment and am suffering from writer's block with the book I'm currently writing, I figured now would be a good time to tell everyone about the book.

On their honeymoon trip through Europe, Prudence and Knighton Gaunt take a brief excursion to see the triple falls on the river Velino on their way to Rome, little knowing the chain of events this will precipitate.

The couple sends their own carriage and servants on to Rome to reserve rooms and joins a small group of travelers in a hired coach. Unfortunately, before the group reaches the triple cascade, their carriage breaks down on a remote road. A band of ruffians ambushes them, and their only safety seems to lie in a ramshackle, old inn reputed to be haunted.

The party of travelers spends one night only to discover one of their group dead the next morning. The body lies in a ravine near the area where they were attacked, casting suspicion on the bandits.

But why had the passenger returned to such a dangerous spot in the middle of the night, and why was the victim wearing another traveler’s cloak?

As Knighton and Pru investigate, they discover the other travelers were not all the strangers they seemed to be. Mistaken identity, revenge, envy, and frustrated love vie as motives, and Knighton is pushed to desperation when Pru disappears as well. He must use every ounce of logic and intelligence to find her—and identify the killer--before there is another death on the road to Rome.

Excerpt

In this excerpt, the carriage Pru, Knighton, and several other passengers are riding within suffers a terrifying accident on a treacherous mountain road. None of them realize that their difficulties are only the start of even more trouble.

A loud crack shuddered through the coach. The vehicle lurched to the right and then tilted abruptly. Pru would have fallen to the floor if she had not caught her husband’s strong, outstretched hand. Mrs. Ruberry was thrown forward and only the lieutenant’s outstretched hands kept her from landing in his lap.

Through the open windows next to Pru, a terrifying view of a mountainside scattered with sharp rocks, ravines, and dark pine trees slanted down toward a misty valley below. It was a dizzying and frightening sight as they teetered on the very edge of a long drop down to scattered boulders and rubble.

“I’m falling!” Miss Demaretti screamed as she cast a frightened glance out Pru’s window and threw her arms around Mrs. Ruberry. “We must escape, Violet, the carriage is slipping—I can feel us falling!”

“No one is going to fall,” Knighton said curtly as he fumbled with the carriage’s only door next to Pru.

When he opened it, the door swung out loosely over the abyss, showing only a narrow edge of the road immediately under the carriage. A bare six inches of ground lay between them and disaster.
Pru hooked her right arm through the window to keep from falling out and held on to Mrs. Ruberry’s shoulder with her left. “Is there any room to climb out?” Her voice sounded breathless, and she sucked in a sharp gasp when there was another crack.

Her breath caught in her throat. The carriage tilted alarmingly toward the ravine, top-heavy as it was with baggage. She could hear thumps and slithering from the roof as the two men who had been forced to rid atop due to the already overcrowded interior scrambled to hold on.

“Yes,” her husband grunted as he caught the edge of the door for support before leaning out a few inches. “There is just enough room if we are careful. You men, shift your weight toward the opposite side when I climb out. I will assist the ladies to exit first.” He glanced apologetically at Pru.

She nodded quickly, knowing what he needed from her. “I’ll help Miss Demaretti and Mrs. Ruberry and then follow them.”

Knighton depended upon her to keep her head and help the others. If only she felt as calm as he sounded. She turned her head away from the window, ignoring the pull of the terrifying ravine. Her weight, combined with that of the other men, would provide stabilization while Miss Demaretti and the somewhat portly Mrs. Ruberry scrambled out.

The carriage shook. Rocks cascaded down the mountainside, dislodged by the carriage. The coachman spoke sharply to the horses in an attempt to control the frightened animals. Every movement made the coach shudder and created another cascade of rubble.

Knighton as he climbed out and clung to the door and coach fender. The two other men quickly slid toward the opposite side as the conveyance trembled and groaned.

A few rocks from the verge rolled over the edge, clicking and rattling their way down the hill. The noise went on and on, and they all froze, listening with tense faces until the sounds of the tumbling stones faded away.

“Come, Miss Demaretti, you must go first.” Pru stretched her arm across the trembling body of Mrs. Ruberry to catch hold of Miss Demaretti’s wrist.

“Careful!” Mrs. Ruberry’s shrill voice cut through the tension, immobilizing the others in the coach.

“You’ll send us all down the mountain to our deaths!” She twisted as if to push her way past Pru’s arm, but when she caught her glance, the older woman thrust her hand against her charge’s back and literally pushed her toward the door.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Captain Marshall said apologetically as he braced Miss Demaretti with his hands around her waist and lifted her through the door. He held on to her until Knighton caught her and eased her around the rear of the coach to the road.

The conveyance swayed as the weight shifted, and another shower of stones bounced over the side.
In a state of panic, Mrs. Ruberry climbed past Pru, elbowing her aside and nearly kicking her in the face in her haste to follow the girl out. Knighton caught her and ignored her wild words as he swung her around the fender and pushed her onto the road next to Miss Demaretti.

Without the plump woman’s weight, the coach wallowed and lurched, sending more and more rocks down into the ravine. The narrow edge of the road crumbled under the broken wheel. The coach leaned further over the ravine. The horses, restive and terrified by the sounds, snorted and whinnied, jerking the conveyance even more, despite the driver’s attempts to calm them and keep the vehicle stable.

Pru squeezed her eyes shut. Despite her efforts to remain calm, her mind feverishly flashed terrifying images of the coach tilting over the edge. Tumbling and crashing against the rocks, they would be smashed into pieces and scattered over the scree at the base, like so many crushed porcelain dolls amidst the wooden debris of the coach. She clutched one of the leather straps as the conveyance shifted again.

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If you are interested, here is the link for the book on Amazon, followed by my web page which has links to other sources for the book.
Honeymoon with Death on Amazon
Honeymoon with Death web page

Happy Reading!

Another day, another recipe

Writing Life

As most of you already realize, there was a delay in the release of The Dead Man's View, the sequel to The Vital Principle, featuring Prudence Barnard and Knighton Gaunt. This time, it's not Pru is not searching to exonerate herself, she's trying to exonerate her dead cousin. She's convinced he did not kill himself and doesn't deserve to have his body beheaded and buried at the crossroads as a suicide. So she calls on her dear friend, Knighton Gaunt, to help her expose the murderer.

While the book's release is late (now set at the first week of October), I
hope it will be well worth the wait.

On to Yummy Stuff
Are any of you trying to reduce carbs? I know I am, simply because as I age, it is getting harder and harder for me to eat them without getting an upset stomach. Since I also have problems with legumes like soy and beans, it can sometimes be a challenge.

But, I've developed a relatively quick breakfast which gives me energy to tackle the morning and is filling enough to get me through to dinnertime with perhaps just a bit of smoked trout to make it past 2:00PM when I start to feel hungry.

I keep a bag of mixed veggies in the freezer and all I do is:
Microwave a cup of mixed veggies for about 4 minutes while I chop up about 1/4 c. of onion.
Saute the onion in olive oil until the veggies are "nuked" and then dump the veggies into the pan.

Take an egg (or two if you're really hungry, but there will probably be enough to share...) and scramble it and then add it to the pan. When it's done, turn off the heat and add about 1/2 c. of shredded cheddar cheese. Mix until the cheese is melted and then dump it out on your plate.

I love topping it with a few spoonfuls of salsa, too. Where's the picture, you ask? Well...it's not the most beautiful concoction on earth so you'll have to use your imagination. :)

Of course, you can really vary this. If I have brown rice or quinoa left over, I add that to the veggies in the pan and don't use any cheese and then sprinkle in some soy sauce. It makes a "quickie" fried rice that is delicious for breakfast.

However, that's really not the recipe I wanted to share today. We've pretty much given up beef (except for the occasional hamburger) and replaced it with venison. I find it more digestible and much more delicate in flavor with a lot less fat. The lack of fat, however, does mean it can be tough if you don't know how to cook it.

Here is a terrific recipe for venison, and if you prefer beef, I bet it would work for that, too! In fact, I think it would work for a lot of different meats and particularly those that are tough.

Roast Venison
 Clean up a venison roast to remove any silver skin or fat. Rub it with a bit of pepper. (I don't use salt, but if you do, you can also add about 1/4 tsp of salt and rub that in.)

Wrap the roast in bacon strips, making sure that all the meat is covered. (You'll remove the bacon to serve.)

Slip the bacon-wrapped roast into an oven bag and place in a shallow backing pan.

Pour red wine (we like Burgundy, but Bordeaux is good, too) into the bag so that it covers the meat until it is about 1/2 to 3/4 covered.

Add 2 bay leaves, 5 cloves (whole cloves), 4-6 black pepper corns, and 4-5 juniper berries.

Close the bag with the tie and cut 2 or 3 tiny holes into the bag on top to let it vent a bit.

Bake in a 350 degree oven for about 3 hours (or until the meat is very tender).

When the meat done...

Melt 3 TBSP butter in a pan. Add one minced onion and cook until the onion is golden. Add cleaned, cut up mushrooms (I use about 1 - 2 cups) and saute until the mushrooms are almost cooked (about 10 minutes).

Remove the meat from the oven and pour the contents of the bag through a strainer into the pan with the onions and mushrooms. Cook for 5 minutes. Mix a few tsp. of cornstarch into about 1/2 c. of red wine and add that to thicken the onion/mushroom sauce. It will take about 2 - 3 minutes over med/med-high heat.

Serve the meat with mashed potatoes and the sauce. A side salad goes very well with this to make a very easy and yet elegant dinner!

Bon appetite!

Gardening and Writing

Gardening

Oops, someone forgot to pick the veggies for a while. Sigh. But I did manage to harvest almost 2 quarts of garlic (2 qts of cleaned garlic cloves, to be exact) and a whole BUNCH of zucchini. As you can see in the background, I ended up using a lot of it for pickles. Then I took some more and made flour-less zucchini muffins.

I'm very pleased with the pickles. We are trying to cut out sugar and this particular recipe has no sugar at all in it. It's a spicy pickle with hot pepper flakes and garlic and we've already eaten one jar. What makes it even better is that you don't have to go through that long hot water bath canning process. You clean the jars (fill with boiling water until ready to use), prepare the zucchini and while you're doing that, boil the vinegar with the spices for 5 minutes. Then fill the jars and pour in the boiling vinegar. Of course you have to store them in the refrigerator, but that's okay with us. I got the recipe from Eatsy at this link.

 For the zucchinis I did not use for pickles (I made 12 pints of pickles) I made zucchini bread with almond flour. Okay, actually, I turned this into zucchini muffins because we like them for breakfast.

I got the recipe for that from comfybelly.com at this link. Of course, I modified it just a wee bit to add a little more spice because we really like our spices, but the basic recipe was from comfybelly.

So, if you are overrun with zucchini or squash, you might look into making either pickles or bread. My sister likes to make zucchini cake, but as I mentioned, we are trying to cut down on sugar and gluten, so we're not doing the cake thing. However, if you make those muffins, they are like mini carrot cakes and are absolutely wonderful for breakfast with a dollop of cream cheese. In fact, I almost prefer them to most cakes at this point.

Writing

I've been working extra hard on my writing lately and for those who are interested, I'm still taking my net proceeds from The Vital Principle and donating them to the Red Cross for the tornado victims. I haven't earned as much as I would like (I'd at least like to give $500) but every little bit helps.

For my fans, the second Prudence Barnard/Knighton Gaunt mystery, The Dead Man's View, is in the final stages and should be out in August. Pru and Knighton were first introduced to readers in The Vital Principle, and I hope folks will enjoy their continuing adventures. In The Dead Man's View, Pru discovers she has a second cousin and goes to visit him, only to have him die within a week of her arrival. The coroner believes her cousin committed suicide, but Pru finds clues that lead her to believe otherwise and she writes to Knighton to gain his assistance in proving her cousin was murdered. 

The wonderful cover artist, Amber Shah, is working on the cover for The Dead Man's View and has even done a new one for The Vital Principle to give it a "make over." Here is a "proof" of the newly redesigned cover for The Vital Principle. It is not final yet, but it will give you an idea and show her wonderful work.

I'm torn at the moment between two of her designs for The Dead Man's View, but hopefully I'll have a new cover to show folks soon!

Next year, I hope there will be a third Pru and Knighton mystery as they are going to go on a trip to Europe and once more, they are going to stumble upon a dead body during their travels...

In the meantime, the Second Sons Inquiry Agency is getting a new detective and I'm writing chapter five even as we speak. It's tentatively called: The Illusion of Desire and like The Vital Principle, it deals with some difficult topics but there are dashes of black humor that I hope readers will enjoy.

For readers of my contemporary mystery, Whacked!, I'm editing a second manuscript (I don't have a title yet) in preparation to sending it to my editor at Five Star. The new one is also set in the small town of Peyton, NC, and features Kelly Harmony. Kelly is suspected of killing her roommate and then torching the apartment to cover up the crime and it doesn't help matters when she finds a stranger's dead body in her new home. This is the first of what will be several mysteries featuring the Harmony family in Peyton, so cross your fingers that my editor likes it.

On the novella front, I wrote a sweet Regency novella last spring and submitted it to my editor at Highland Press, as well as my first sweet Western romance novella. I hope she likes at least one of them and decides to include it in one of the upcoming Highland Press anthologies.

Finally, my paranormal romance, A Fall of Silver, is on sale for one more week at $.99 so if you are interested, you might want to jump on it now before it goes back to its normal price.

That's all the news and I hope to write another blog soon on the craft of writing, as well as keeping up better on my progress with the art of writing.

Enjoy the summer!

Gardening in August

It’s hot—really hot—and the hardest thing this time of year seems to be keeping ahead of the weeding. The weeds seem to grow even without water or care, while the other flowers suffer as the weather reaches the highest temperatures. Last year, we had a drought, but this year, it's been raining every afternoon. That's terrific for my roses, but not so great on the weeding front as we're literally taken over by weeds. We are particularly plagued by pink purslane (Portulaca pilosa L.). It’s related to that wonderful and very colorful annual Portulaca (moss rose) and some folks have decided to stop trying to weed out purslane as it does have a lovely, bright hot pink flower about ½” across that opens during the day.

You can see from this picture that it has reddish stems and less clearly, rather “succulent” leaves. This specimen is getting ready to bloom, but isn’t quite there yet.

Some have been known to use purslane in salads as it contains more Omega-3 fatty acids than any other leafy vegetable. In antiquity, it was one of several pot herbs that “should be sown in April” according to Theophrastus (4^th century BC). Pliny advised wearing it as an amulet to expel all evil due to its healing properties. It is known as Ma Chi Xian in China and has been used in traditional Chinese medicine for dysentery and topically to relieve skin abrasions or insect bites.  However, it also contains oxalate, a compound implicated in the formation of kidney stones, so I personally do not include purslane in our diet, particularly since our variety of purslane is not the yellow-flowered variety one commonly uses in Europe in salads.

So you see, what is one man’s weed is another man’s sought-after herb.

And it’s hot enough now that I’ve decided not to make any real attempt to eradicate purslane from our garden. I’m very fond of it growing over the edges of our brick walkway, so I think I won’t worry too much about pulling it out.

This is, of course, the time of year when marigolds really come into their own. I’ve always loved marigolds and adore all the new varieties available. There is even an off-white one that is absolutely terrific as a “bridging” plant between the hot colors of late summer marigolds and the mums of fall, which often include rich rose and burgundy. And don’t forget the plants with colorful foliage like coleus that come in everything from lime green and white to deep burgundy. They can also be used effectively in planters and gardens. They are beautiful all summer, even when other plants have stopped blooming, since they are grown for their foliage. They do need to be pinched back, though, to keep them busy.

Late July and August is also prime time for verbenas, as shown in this photo. The plans are blooming powerhouses and will attract hundreds of butterflies and hummingbirds. They come in a variety of colors, including delicate pinks as well as hot orange and pink combinations. If planted in good soil with the occasional watering, they will grow as high as your waist in one season. Folks in USDA gardening zones 7-10 will find verbenas will grow as perennials as long as you remember not to cut them back too far in the winter. The hollow stems will fill with water and freeze, thereby killing the plant, if you forget.  Nonetheless, this is an extremely easy to grow plant that requires virtually no care and will survive if you forget to water for a few weeks.

If you grow roses, don’t forget to water them and feed them to prepare for another glorious season of bloom in late August-September. Remove any hips (dead flowers) to encourage bloom production. Old wisdom said to clip off spent flower sprays down to the first 5-leafed leaflet. I simply pinch off the hip, leaving all leaves on the stem. Leaves are good—they are the energy factory for the plant—so the more leaves you can leave a plant, the better.

Hope you are enjoying your summer garden!

Stay cool in the dog days of summer and don’t worry if you let a few weeds intrude. Just tell anyone who comments that they are an herb you meant to grow there.

Finally, although the nearby cotton field has another month to go before the cotton "balls" form, this time of year always reminds me of my second Archer family Regency romance, I Bid One American. The heroine is a "fish out of water" as an American heiress living in London. If you want a light, funny read with a touch of mystery, you might check it out. And yes, those white things on the cover are cotton...

Alba Roses - Fragrant Old Garden Roses

Old Garden Roses - Alba

I thought I would continue writing a few blogs about one of my favorite plants: roses. Some of you may have already noted this obsession of mine, considering some of my books such as Smuggled Rose or A Rose Before Dying so this blog shouldn't really be a surprise. I do love roses and history.

So here you are...a short article about Alba roses.

Alba roses are classed with the Old Garden Roses (OGR), which are generally considered to be roses hybridized or introduced prior to 1900.  The 1900’s marked the beginning of the era of the Hybrid Teas, which are the most popular roses today. OGR’s have been around this long simply because they are worth growing and are survivors.  The majority are intensely fragrant and extremely attractive when in full bloom, and the Alba roses are no exception.

Alba roses are extremely ancient and during medieval times, the white roses were often associated with the Virgin Mary.  Many rose historians speculate that the Alba rose class arose from crosses between wild Dog roses and ancient Damasks (which will be covered in the third article).

The Alba class of roses are fairly large shrubs with bluish gray leaves and white or pale pink flowers.  Albas bloom once, generally in summer, and are wonderfully fragrant.  The entire bush can be covered with blossoms during the flowering period and will fill the air with their heady perfume.

They do not need to be sprayed and do not suffer from blackspot.  They are, in fact, one of the toughest and easiest of all the roses to grow.  They are extremely tolerant of imperfect growing conditions including:  bad soil, light shade, and insufficient water. However, if you live in the hot and humid South, Albas do struggle in that climate and seem to prefer cooler climes.

The most common characteristics of the class are:

• Thorny stems.
• Soft, bluish gray leaves.
• Buds are long and graceful, with long sepals.
• The bushes are generally quite large (average 7’ tall).
• Somewhat shade tolerant.
• Colors range from white through light pink.
• They require no pruning and will flower well, year after year, by only removing the dead wood.

A few Alba roses include:

‘Great Maiden’s Blush’ ancient.  This is one of my favorite roses and is a gorgeous soft pink.  The shrub can reach almost 8 feet and will sucker if grown on its own roots.  The glorious flowers are very double with pale pink outside petals with a deeper pink in the center.  The flower will gradually fade to white as it ages.  Very rich fragrance. 

Rosa alba ‘Semiplena’ ancient.  ‘Semiplena’ is another large shrub, known to grow up to 8 feet tall.  It has pure white flowers, semi-double, with a rich scent.  It has been grown frequently in place of Damask roses, to produce Attar of Roses.  It will grow even in partial shade.

‘Jacobite Rose’ (aka Rosa alba ‘Maxima’) – ancient origin.  Rosa alba ‘Maxima’ can grow up to 7 feet tall, with graceful, arching branches.  The flowers are pure white and some may have a touch of pink in the center.  Good fragrance

‘Céleste’ late 18^th century.  It reaches 7’ tall and sports semi-double flowers in rose pink color with gold stamens.  The roses are particularly delicate in appearance and have an interesting elongated, slender bud.  The flowers are exceptionally fragrant. 

‘Félicité Parmentier’ known since 1834.  This Alba is one of the shorter, and therefore more useful shrubs that reaches 4’.  It has double flowers in pale pink set off by a green button eye.  Good fragrance.

‘Mme Plantier’ Plantier, 1835.  ‘Mme Plantier’ is another tall shrub which can even be trained as a small climber (approx. 8-9’).  It has lovely double flowers in creamy white.  The buds are red-tinted prior to opening.  As with the other Albas, this one has a good scent.

These are just a few varieties.  All the Alba roses are well worth the garden space and require minimal to perform exceptionally well. They aren't that easy to find, but Pickering Nursery is a good source for these and many other OGR.

Happy Gardening!

And speaking of gardening...Oriana Archer in the first of the Regency series of books about the adventures of the Archer family is also a fanatical gardener. (Hmmm, wonder how that happened?) If you want to find out more about her and the cursed family necklace she discovers, check out The Necklace.

Guest Author: Anne K. Albert

Do you like cozy, funny mysteries? Want something to keep you warm over the holidays?

Then you definitely want to check out Anne Albert.

Why did you decide to write?
Until I reached a ‘certain’ age, okay, middle age LOL, I never imagined ordinary people could be writers. It seemed like such an incredible occupation--this ability to create worlds with words.

It was the late 1980s, I was a display advertising sales representative for a small weekly newspaper and I came face-to-face for the first time with a computer. I fell in love with the sound of fingertips flying across the keyboard. As strange as this sounds, that’s what inspired me to write my first book! I love that sound. It’s music to my ears.

Do you have a favorite theme or message for your readers?
I write to entertain. If I can make readers smile, laugh out loud, or give them an ‘ahhh’ moment as they’re reading one of my books then I’ve succeeded.

When do you write/what is your writing day like?
My writing day is mainly devoted to promotion and marketing, I’m afraid to say. This came as a huge surprise since getting published. Like most people, I just thought an author writes a book, turns it over to the publisher, and then begins writing the next one. Whoa! Talk about a reality check. The publishing arena is changing, and so is an author’s list of responsibilities.

On the bright side, I’ve met some incredible people along the way. I really believe my life is enriched because of it. It’s a wonderful time to be an author!

As to when I write, I find afternoons and evenings are my best writing time. When I’m really in the ‘zone’ it’s usually after midnight!

What is the best advice someone has given you about writing? The worst advice?
The best advice came from my editor. She said promotion and marketing is a marathon not a sprint. That has really helped me to keep at it day after day. She also told me to stop applying so much pressure on myself to write the next book. I’m working on book 3 and having a much harder time in that regard! I wanted to have it released months ago, but that didn’t happen. Protecting Hope, book 2 of the Piedmont Island Trilogy series, will be available soon, however…really!

As for the worst advice? That’s easy. Years ago, before this surge in e-books, a multi-published author advised to jot down how long it takes to write a book. Then, when an editor asks, you’ll have a good idea.

It sounds like a great idea, but it’s no longer applicable. Promoting and marketing on Facebook, Twitter, etc. is a huge commitment. Having all day to write is a luxury few authors have.

With zero interruptions, I can write a book in about 8 weeks. I know because I kept track on both Defending Glory, book 1 of the Piedmont Island Trilogy, and Frank, Incense and Muriel, book 1 of the Muriel Reeves Mysteries. When I spoke to my editor about book 2 for the Piedmont series, I used that calculation/information to set a deadline. Needless to say, that deadline came and went, and I’m still writing Protecting Hope. I haven’t even begun to write book two of my mystery series…ack! I can feel my blood pressure rising. I have to stop and breathe… ;-)

How do you approach a new book? Outlines? Just an idea?
Definitely just an idea. I’m a pantser who writes to find out what happens next. That is literally from one sentence to the next. I have no idea who will say or do what, or where the plot will go.

Which, now that I think about it, may be part of the problem with Protecting Hope and why it is taking me so long to complete. I wrote the synopsis at the request of my editor before I’d completed chapter three. I realize I don’t have to stick to it exactly, but writing the synopsis first just feels all wrong! While I’m proud of Protecting Hope, I don’t think I’ll write the synopsis for my next release until after I’ve written the book!

How do you develop your characters?
I usually have at least one trait in mind for each character when I begin writing. He’s determined. She’s spontaneous. The villain’s just plain old bad! Then, as I continue writing the first draft, they do something that shows me they’re so much more than that.

It’s very much like meeting a person in real life, actually. You develop a snap first impression of them when you’re introduced. The second time you meet you gain a little more insight into who they are. With each additional encounter you get a deeper understanding of what makes them tick. By the end of the first draft, I know my characters better than they do!

What makes a great book in your opinion?
A fast-paced plot with intriguing characters works for me. I have to care about them. I want to hit the ground running and not be caught up with a lot of backstory. Add a mystery or murder to solve, a dash of romance, a laugh, and a satisfying ending and you had me at Chapter One!

Where do you see yourself as an author in five years?
Writing. Promoting. Writing some more! Oh, and traveling, too. Thank you so much, Amy, for featuring me today! It’s been such fun.

Bio
Anne K. Albert’s award winning stories chill the spine, warm the heart and soothe the soul…all with a delightful touch of humor. A member of Romance Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and married to her high school sweetheart for more than a quarter of a century, it's a given she'd write mystery and romantic suspense. When not writing she loves to travel, visit friends and family, and of course, read using ‘Threegio’ her cherished and much beloved Kindle 3G!

Book Blurb

FRANK, INCENSE AND MURIEL is set the week before Christmas when the stress of the holidays is enough to frazzle anyone’s nerves. Tensions increase when a friend begs Muriel to team up with a sexy private investigator to find a missing woman. Forced to deal with an embezzler, kidnapper, and femme fatale is bad enough, but add Muriel’s zany yet loveable family to the mix and their desire to win the coveted D-DAY (Death Defying Act of the Year) Award, and the situation can only get worse. This cozy, comedic mystery is recipient of the prestigious 2011 Holt Medallion Award of Merit.

To read a sample of Frank, Incense and Muriel click here: http://amzn.to/pg67sx .

Visit Anne online at her website http://www.annekalbert.com/  and blogs http://anne-k-albert.blogspot.com/  and http://muriel-reeves-mysteries.blogspot.com/ . She is also on Facebook www.facebook.com/annekalbert  and Twitter www.twitter.com/AnneKAlbert .

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Thank you Anne and Happy Holidays!

Sample Sunday: The Bricklayer's Helper

It's sample Sunday again! This time, I'm giving you a small taste from my Regency romantic mystery, The Bricklayer's Helper.

What would you do if you were a young girl, orphaned during the early years of the 19th century? Without a family and references, there were pitifully few jobs for women, leaving them to face desperate lives of thievery or prostitution.

Sam faces this terrible situation in The Bricklayer’s Helper.

Her story was based on the actual life of Catherine Wilson, who was orphaned at fourteen and bravely refused to accept the social restrictions of her day. She donned her deceased brother’s clothes to find work under the name of John Thomson.

An orphan like Catherine, Sarah finds herself alone when a suspicious fire burns down her home with her family trapped inside. All she can remember about the horrific event is the warning to “run and hide.” Fighting to stay alive, Sarah cuts her hair, dons the garb of a young boy and obtains a job as a bricklayer’s helper. This disguise allows her to remain safe for nearly thirteen years.

Unfortunately, work takes her to London and a man from her past recognizes her. He arranges a meeting with her, only to be murdered before they can speak. Desperate that she may be vulnerable, Sarah hires an inquiry agent from the Second Sons Inquiry Agency.

However, Sarah is not too sure about the inquiry agent she's assigned. William Trenchard may be competant to fumble his way beneath a lady’s skirt, but can he discover who murdered her family? Despite her doubts, Sarah hires him, hoping to survive long enough to uncover the killer.
Unfortunately, their decisions may prove to be dangerous to their hearts…if not downright fatal.

Book: The Bricklayer’s Helper

In the scene below, Sarah, in her guise as Sam Sanderson, has gone to meet a man from her past, unsure what secrets he will reveal about the fire that destroyed her family.

Excerpt from The Bricklayer’s Helper
 
She glanced around, trying to listen over the pounding of her heart. No one shouted. No one except the major showed any interest in her—other than sheer annoyance when she impeded the smooth flow of foot traffic.


Major Pickering raised his hand, his eyes intent on her face. She took a slow step forward. Then without warning, he stumbled. His hand fell to his side. His gaze wavered. A look of confusion passed over his thin face. Glancing down, he pressed a hand to his side. And as he brought his palm up in front of his face, his legs buckled beneath him. He fell sharply to his knees, and with a shudder, he raised his head. His gaze once more met Sam’s as his mouth worked soundlessly.

A sense of urgency sent her running forward, hand outstretched. Alarmed by the pallor of his face, she tried to reach him to hear the words he uselessly mouthed. Then, although she couldn’t be sure with the jostling men between them, he shook his head slightly in warning. A spasm twisted his features.

Sam stopped and watched in agonized horror as he slowly crumpled, face down, onto the pavement.

A passerby dressed in black bent over him. His quick hands patted the major’s back and sides.

Several men trying to pass turned and exclaimed in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” one said, his voice carrying above the crowd.

“Drunk—”

“No—murder!” another man yelled. “Fetch the constable! This man’s been stabbed!”

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I hope you enjoyed the excerpt!

Guest Author: Judy Alter

Mystery and Western writer Judy Alter joins us today to talk about book signings and finding a niche. I'm glad she was able to join us as she touches on two subjects that speak to the nostalgia of the season. My father loved westerns and mysteries and I inherited a good many of his books when he passed away. To my delight, I found after I married my wonderful husband, that his German mother also loved westerns and I felt privileged to share my father's books with her, too. Sharing books and finding new authors is one of the best ways to make a connection with others, so I hope Judy's blog helps you to connect with her and find a new, favorite author to share with your friends and family.

Judy Alter
Book signings and finding a niche


I’ve been following the Facebook postings of western writer Steven Law. He apparently arranged to sign books at Hy-Vee grocery stores across the nation. For the last three days, he’s been at Hy-Vees in the Omaha area—he always tells what part of the store he’s in, such as next to vitamins, the produce, whatever—once, by good fortune, next to the ATM machine. His book is a traditional western, Yuma Gold, and I doubt HyVee is mentioned in it. But he’s somehow made great use of a connection and has done successful signings in an unconventional venue for books.

My new novel, Skeleton in a Dead Space, is definitely a neighborhood novel, one in which the Fort Worth historic neighborhood of Fairmount is a major character. Kelly O’Connell buys and sells real estate and renovates older houses, particularly Craftsman style, in Fairmount, and she is passionate about the neighborhood. So are the residents there today.

Fairmount was built mostly between 1910 and 1930. For years, it was a stable upper-middle class neighborhood. But in the latter part of the twentieth century residents began to move to the suburbs, to more fashionable neighborhoods and, probably in truth, to safer neighborhoods. Many houses became rental property, with larger ones broken into apartments and rooming houses. It was a neighborhood on the decline until maybe the 1990s when young professionals began to realize the advantages of a neighborhood so accessible to downtown and the hospital district. They moved in, renovated the older homes, and turned the neighborhood around. Today it is more remodeled homes than not, but there’s still an occasional dilapidated house that leans and needs paint and has a washing machine on the front porch. There’s a great esprit d’ corps among the residents, and so I’ve marketed directly to them.

My book signings have been in unconventional signing sites but places dear to Fairmount residents. I launched the book with two signings at The Old Neighborhood Grill, a popular café about a block beyond the actual boundary of the neighborhood but one many residents frequent. In two signings—early (7:00 a.m.) Saturday morning and 5:30 the following Monday evening, I sold almost 75 books. Sure, lots of people came because I’d sent out emails and Peter, the grill owner, had fliers. But several regular customers walked up and said they wanted to buy books for their wives.

Fairmount also houses a wonderful store called Old Home Supply—it’s got everything you could possible want to redo your older home or add character to a new structure—from doorknobs to French doors, plumbing fixtures, fire screens, you name it. I once bought a metal couch for my porch there. It features two running horses and a Texas star. So now, Old Home Supply has eight copies of my book, and I signed there the Saturday after Thanksgiving. For that signing and the one at the local Barnes & Noble, I made a sign that said “A mystery set in Fort Worth’s own Fairmount Historic District.”

Fairmount also has a book club, and I spoke to them, though it was a small group, and they talked as much about the neighborhood and its street repairs as they did my book. But it was a pleasant evening, and I bet the word spread. They eagerly asked if I’d come back to talk about the second book, and I assured them I would.

My point in all this is to suggest writers find the unique audience for each of their books and then look for alternative signing sites. My marketing in Fairmount has paid off wonderfully.

Check out my website— http://www.judyalter.com/ —for pictures of Kelly’s neighborhood and see why it’s a character in the book.

Author’s note:

Judy Alter is the author of fiction and nonfiction for adults and young adults. Much of her career focused on women in the American West, and she is the recipient of Western Heritage (Wrangler) Awards from the National Cowboy Museum and Hall of Fame and Spur Awards from Western Writers of America She also was honored with the Owen Wister Award for Lifetime Achievement by WWA. But she always wanted to write mysteries, and Skeleton in a Dead Space, published by Turquoise Morning Press, is her first venture into cozy mysteries. At least two more Kelly O’Connell mysteries are scheduled.

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Thank you, Judy, and Happy Holidays

Christmas Spirit and Silence is Concurrence now available!

What a great week!
Both my holiday historical mystery novella, Christmas Spirit, and my short, short ghost story, Silence is Concurrence, have gone live on Amazon! I'm very excitied (as I'm sure you can guess).

That clears the ground for me to concentrate on writing Hidden Aspects, a new historical mystery featuring Prudence Barnard and Knighton Gaunt, the two main characters from The Vital Principle. I plan on torturing myself during November by participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) to attempt to get the first very rough draft of Hidden Aspects done.

As I go slowly go insane, I'll be blogging about my NaNoWriMo adventures during the month. Wish me luck--I really want to get close to finishing the rough draft if at all possible.

Once I get the rough draft done, I'll put it aside to concentrate on getting the editing done for Escaping Notice, the final (at least for now) book in the Archer family series. Escaping Notice will feature Helen Archer, the younger sister of Oriana Archer who you met in The Necklace. With luck and the help of my editor, we're hoping to get Escaping Notice out early in 2012.

Whew. My head is spinning.

Here is a bit about my two newest releases.

Christmas Spirit

A Regency mystery novella

A blizzard envelopes the English countryside five days before Christmas, stranding Eve Tomlin and her mother when their carriage shatters a wheel. The women struggle through the snow, forced onward by a wraith-like figure gliding through the trees. Exhausted, they find an apparently abandoned house and stumble inside. They are confronted by Giles Danby, a guest at Folkestone Manor. Danby ruthlessly tells the women they must go.

Their host has just been murdered. A killer is on the loose.

Or a vengeful specter, if they believe Danby’s father. A specter Eve may have glimpsed in the woods.

Desperate to solve the mystery and remain alive, they can only hope the Christmas Spirit isn’t searching for another victim.

Silence is Concurrence
A Southern ghost short story


Collecting material for a book of ghost stories, Kate travels to North Carolina's beautiful Outer Banks to collect an eyewitness account of a haunting. She has a few difficulties finding the house, but eventually she meets Mrs. Corley and hars her story.

Although she doesn't realize it, Kate may find more material than she knows what to do with.
 
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Enjoy!

Guest Author: Jacki Vick

Today we have guest author Jacki Vick with us. She write humorous mysteries that always give me a smile and a sense of satisfaction to see justice done in the end.

Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd

The hubby and I will soon celebrate our twenty-first wedding anniversary. I still remember our first date--the awkward introduction followed later by the even more awkward goodnight at the door. Does he like me? Will he kiss me? Is he the one?

After twenty-one years, it’s natural to miss the excitement and anticipation of dating, and that’s what romance novels are for!

However, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend. Multiple love interests. “Is he the one?” becomes “Is he or that other guy the one?” I’m not bashing the books. These authors are good at their craft, but I wonder if they couldn’t use some reader tips?

Janet Evanovich’s long-standing love triangle was fun at first. Stephanie Plum didn’t know either Joe Morelli or Ranger, and at the discovery phase of a relationship, readers will allow for the heroine’s divided attentions. After sixteen books, Stephanie’s starting to come across as a tramp. Even Ms. Evanovich seems to recognize this, as book seventeen promises to make her heroine choose.

Joanna Fluke’s Hannah Swenson steers clear of trampy because she doesn’t sleep with either Mike or Norman. Still, I wonder how these men put up with her inability to choose between them. Even I want to scream, “Make up your mind!”

The one scenario that really put me off (I won’t name names) was when the married protagonist kept falling for handsome strangers. Adding a second man to the mix is not the way to marital bliss.

Choices are good. I sometimes debate between sweet and salty snacks, but a possible life-partner deserves more consideration than Cheetos versus Nestle’s Crunch.

Then why do trios work in Elizabeth Peter’s Amelia Peabody series? Amelia is married to larger-than-life archeologist Radcliff Emerson. During their travels in the East, a mysterious Master Criminal butts heads with the couple, and he falls for Amelia in a big way.

There’s a difference between Amelia and those other gals. When the Master Criminal kisses her, she loses her breath. Electricity crackles in the air. Yet even from her swoon, her superior brain is working out how to get back to her true love, Emerson. She never doubts. She doesn’t dally. The equation is still 1 + 1 = Love.

Humor helps. When the Master Criminal demands she strip off her clothes and put on a harem outfit, she leaves on her sturdy undergarments. The Master Criminal’s longing satisfies our romantic imagination without sacrificing Amelia’s integrity. And we laugh.
Is it old-fashioned to hold out for “Boy Falls for Girl, Boy Loses Girl, Boy Wins Girl Back?” I don’t think so. Romance authors and readers have stood by this formula for years. There might be another interested guy in the story, but he’s never a serious contender.

Is two the ideal number in a romance? Is three company or a crowd? Take a stand and let me know what you think!

Biography

Jacqueline Vick writes humorous mysteries and short fiction. An article for “Fido Friendly Magazine” led her to create Frankie Chandler, a reluctant pet psychic. Her short story, “Pekingese Premonition”, is available on Smashwords and Kindle.

Links
Web site: http://www.jacquelinevick.com/
Pekingese Premonition on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/82594 
Pekingese Premonition on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/3fmxzgj

* * * * *
Thank you Jackie! For me, three is always a crowd, but I'm sure everyone has an opinion and I hope they will share them!

Guest Author: Alyssa Lyons

We are extraordinarily lucky to have Alyssa Lyons with us. She's a fabulous writer and is the author of some of my favorite cozy mysteries.

Not Your Mother’s Cozy Mystery

Hi, all. I’m Alyssa Lyons and I want to introduce you to Chick Mystery. When most readers think of the amateur sleuth mystery, commonly called a “cozy,” images pop up of Miss Jane Marple or Jessica Fletcher.

Ta-ta, Miss Marple. Go back to Cabot Cove, Mrs. Fletcher. Welcome Jordan Ashley Davis, amateur sleuth extraordinaire. On the sunny side of thirty, instead of a sensible dress, she might be tooling around her hometown of Lynchburg, Virginia in a red leather catsuit on a Triumph motorcycle. Forget a nice pot of chamomile tea, Jordan is more likely to quaff a venti soy chai latte from the Boonsboro Road Starbucks. No purring cat curled up around her legs, instead, she has a miniature schnauzer with his own helmet and leather motorcycle jacket, all the better to ride behind Jordan on her bike. Her day job is the unique funeral boutique, Last Wishes, where she plans and executes custom funerals and memorials for her clients. “You envision it, I make it happen.” This means skirting around a few laws and regulations—and running into murder.

Jordan doesn’t mind bending a few rules, but the same isn’t true of Judge Grayson Trent. Another Lynchburg native who escaped to San Francisco, is a little bit of a stick in the mud, but a gorgeous one. You can’t imagine Miss Marple as anything but a confirmed spinster and Jessica Fletcher lusting after Sheriff Amos Tupper—Heaven forfend. But when Jordan and Gray get together, sparks fly. Becca Morrison is Gray’s godmother and Jordan’s client and when Jordan discovers her death wasn’t from natural causes, it sets in motion a hunt for a serial killer trying to purify the town of its more unholy elements. And he’s added Jordan to his hit list.

You’ll meet Jordan, Gray, and a host of the type of characters you really only find in small Southern cities, because the city of Lynchburg is as much a character as any of the people, in Last Wishes.

In Clubbed to Death, Jordan and Gray must discover who killed the president of the Junior League and exonerate Jordan’s half-sister. In their search for the real killer, they run into a plot that introduces you to three terrific children who will change their lives.

And coming soon, Stabbed and Slabbed, where Jordan and Gray, on a Caribbean cruise, must discover who murdered the ship’s master of ceremonies when they are two the of prime suspects.

If you want to read excerpts, as well as see photos of Lynchburg, please go to my website, http://www.alyssalyons.com/ . If you like what you read, there are links to buy the books, which are available for all ebook devices. Last Wishes will also soon be available in paperback.

A hip chick solving crime Southern style. Definitely not your mother’s cozy mystery novel.

* * * *
Thank you so much, Alyssa!

Sample Sunday: A Rose Before Dying

It's Sample Sunday, which means it's time to gives folks a sample of one of my books. This time it will be my latest mystery, A Rose Before Dying which was just released this month.

A Rose Before Dying

Only Sir Edward had the motive, the opportunity, and a garden full of the identical roses sent to each victim before their death.

The first victim was Sir Edward’s ex-mistress, a woman who threw him over for a younger man. After receiving a mysterious rose, she dies while alone with Sir Edward. Then a second rose is delivered and a deadly game commences, where roses are the only clues to save the next victim.

However, Charles Vance, Earl of Castlemoor, refuses to believe his uncle, Sir Edward, could commit the murders, even when the renowned head of the Second Sons Inquiry Agency warns him there may be some truth behind the rumors. The roses are Sir Edward’s attempt to cast suspicion elsewhere. Misdirection. Or so the whispers say.

Convinced he can prove his uncle’s innocence, Vance enlists the aide of notable rosarian, Ariadne Wellfleet, little realizing his actions will involve the Wellfleet household in the killer’s game.

Before the week is out, another rose is delivered.

And someone else is missing.

Excerpt
In this excerpt, Charles Vance, Earl of Castlemoor, is convinced by his desperate uncle, Sir Edward, to help him prove his innocence in the death of his mistress. Sir Edward had originally gone to his friend, Knighton Gaunt, the founder of the Second Sons Inquiry Agency, but he has now had second thoughts about involving an outsider. The only thing they have to go on is a spray of Lady Banks roses and a few taunting notes.

“Is this our only clue, then?” Charles arranged the two calling cards in front of him before gently rewrapping the spray of yellow flowers. “Did anyone see the flowers delivered?”



“No. The butler found the first bundle on the stoop when he opened the door for Lady Banks and Sir Edward to attend church services. They assumed I’d left it there as a surprise when I arrived.”


“Surely the accident didn’t occur on your way to church?” Charles asked, appalled.


“No—no. We went for a walk. Later. In the garden,” Sir Edward said. “There was a shot. She fell into my arms…”


After a moment of silence, Gaunt picked up the threads of the story to spare Sir Edward. “The second note and rose were left at the French doors leading to the garden.”


“Inside the house?”


“No. Outside,” his uncle said.


“And no one saw anyone?” How was that possible?


“No. No one but me. The servants said no one but me had visited or been in the garden. The constable did his best. He questioned several of the lads—known poachers—but they all had witnesses to verify their whereabouts at the time. Then he had to look elsewhere. By then, the whispers had started. I was alone in the garden with her. They said I did it. I was the only one there.”


Charles touched his uncle’s shoulder. “Nonsense. Obviously, someone else had been there. Had she argued with anyone?”


“No!” The single word exploded from his uncle’s white lips. “No. She argued with no one. This was—inexplicable. Inexcusable. She was an innocent victim. I—I believe it was aimed at me. The taunting flowers—what other reason could there be for those bloody roses?” He voice rasped with barely suppressed emotion. “He killed her—so they weren’t meant for her. The flowers were a message to me.”


“Why?” Charles glanced away from the pain in his uncle’s face, trying to drag the conversation into less terrible channels. “Who would hate you so much? Who do you suspect?”


Sir Edward took a deep, shuddering breath and then straightened. He shrugged. “No one. I can’t imagine who would hate me so. Or treat Lady Banks with such callous contempt. It’s beyond comprehension.”


The thought of shooting a woman for the purpose of bringing pain and suffering to another man was difficult for anyone to accept.


It took Charles a few moments convince himself it was possible for a man to be that cold, that malicious. “Have you any other information? Perhaps a list of those who bear you malice?”


His uncle shook his head, his gaze fixed on the floor.


Charles glanced at Mr. Gaunt. He wanted to question him to see what the man might have to offer in his professional capacity. Surely he had some relevant experience. Something that might bring light to the awful events.


“Please, Lord Castlemoor…Hoopes was right, after all. I should have gone to you, first.” His uncle interrupted the silence in a rush as if he could no longer bear the company of his own thoughts. “Whatever scandal is flushed out is best kept within the family. You must see that.”


Scandal? Charles’s gut clenched. What skeletons did his uncle know about, that might creep out of the family’s closet?


Certainly, none that he wanted Gaunt to chat with.

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Hope you enjoyed that brief snippet of A Rose Before Dying.
Best wishes for a successful week ahead!

Sample Sunday: A Rose Before Dying

It's Sample Sunday and I'm offering an excerpt from my latest mystery, A Rose Before Dying. This is the second mystery in the Second Sons Inquiry Agency mystery series and although Mr. Knighton Gaunt, the founder of Second Sons, is involved, the main investigator is not an inquiry agent at all, it's an earl trying to exonerate his uncle.

It's 1821 and Sir Edward Marlowe has been accused of killing his ex-mistress, Lady Banks. His nephew, Charles Vance, Earl of Castlemoor, is convinced his uncle is innocent and decides to investigate. The killer has left a taunting note and a rose, indicating that another murder will soon take place. Charles has taken the rose to an expert in hopes of identifying it and preventing the tragedy.
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The butler stared at the card and then intoned, “Lord Castlemoor, Miss Wellfleet.”


She wiped her hands on a towel resting on the table and faced him. A tan apron covered the front of her dress from neat collar to hem, and dark, rich earth liberally smeared it in long, sweeping streaks.

“I’m afraid we must disappoint him.” She stared at Charles, but her movements placed the lamp behind her and left her face in darkness. Her expression was hidden, but the light behind her set her hair on fire. The thick coils glowed deep, golden brown in a halo around her shadowed face.

“Are you sure Mr. Lee sent you? Here?” she asked.

“Yes, quite sure.” Charles had the uncomfortable feeling that Mr. Wellfleet was either gone from this house, or worse, from this world. “I take it Mr. Wellfleet is unavailable?”

“You might say that,” she said dryly. “He’s been rather unavailable for the past six months. My father, Mr. Wellfleet, is dead, my lord.”

“I’m sorry. However, I assure you Mr. Lee did send me. And I freely admit it may have been my fault to assume he sent me to speak to Mr. Wellfleet.” His voice slowed as he realized his hopes had faded along with the daylight. Mr. Lee had sent him on a fruitless mission to see a man who had died months ago.

Bitter anger gripped him, clogging his throat. He stared at the woman, unable to speak through his frustration. Someone would die—and soon—because he was unable to identify a single, ridiculous rose.

“Is this your daughter?” she asked, breaking the silence. Her lovely face remained impassive as she eyed the little girl.

“What? No—good heavens, no.”

“Then…who is she?”

“Her name is Rose.” He bit the words off, thinking furiously of a way to identify the next target. There had to be a way, even without knowing the true name of the rose.

“And did you bring her here for a reason, my lord?”

“Well, her name is Rose,” he replied absently.

Rosa collina, Lee had said. Someone named Collins? That had to be the answer.

“I see. So you thought you could plant her in the garden, perhaps? Next to the chrysanthemums?” She paused as if in thought. “Well, Mr. Gibson dug a new bed this morning. I suppose we can plant her there, assuming she will fit. What color are her blooms? I hope they aren’t too garish. I was planning a display of pale pinks and murray-purple in that particular spot. It’s too late to change now. I’ve already begun planting.”

He stared at her only to realize that despite her solemn expression, her hazel eyes glowed with laughter. She looked at the small girl clinging to him and smiled.

Rose stared back, her blue eyes wide before she nodded and said with firm resolution, “Pink.”

“You’re sure? You look rather like one of the mad Gallicas to me. Perhaps you’re a rich red streaked with a few patches of the palest-of-pale pink?”

The little girl shook her head vigorously before stepping over to Miss Wellfleet and taking her hand. “Pink. I’m pink.”

“Then I just may have the perfect bed for you.” Her wide mouth trembled with suppressed mirth. She glanced back to Charles. “Since it seems, despite all appearances and the company you keep, you aren’t quite mad after all.”

She clearly wasn’t convinced of his sanity, however.

He flushed. “I beg your pardon. But truly, I didn’t know where else to take her…”

“And just where are her parents? Her mother?”

“She’s an orphan.”

“That’s certainly convenient, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied stiffly.

She sighed and dipped a corner of the towel into a small, tin pitcher of water on the table. She washed a smudge of dirt from the girl’s cheek, revealing the soft, rosy skin. “Do you even know who her mother is? Or was?”

“Yes. She resides just a few blocks from here.” If she could joke about the situation, he could, too.

“Where?” she asked warily. “Oh, you mean St. Michael’s, I suppose.”

“Yes. At least, that’s what I understand.”

“The orphanage—”

“Workhouse. Would you really ask me to take her there?”

She studied him. “No, I suppose not. But you—”

“I can’t keep her.” He paused. “Can I?”

“It does look odd.” The speculative gleam in her eyes brought out their rich brown color. “And most improper. What I don’t quite understand is your concern for her. Why, out of all the dozens of children wandering the streets of London, did you choose her? Are you certain she’s not yours?”

“No. In truth, I never knew of her existence before today,” he replied honestly. “I just stumbled over her and brought her along.” He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “There’s no compelling logic or reason.”

“I see. However, I fear I must ask again, are you sure she’s not yours?”

“No. Truly. I never meet her until today.”

“That’s hardly convincing, is it?” She asked in her driest voice.

“I assure you, I don’t have a passel of…well, love children, wandering the streets of London.” He flushed with embarrassment. The hot color deepened when he realized she seemed just wayward enough to believe he was more embarrassed that he didn’t have a vast collection of by-blows, than he was by the suggestion he had only one.

Despite his best efforts to educate himself about females, they remained mysterious and largely incomprehensible at best.

This disadvantage struck him disagreeably.

“I couldn’t just leave her to starve.”

“This is most irregular, my lord. Any decent woman would flatly refuse to accept an orphan thrust upon her by a stranger—even one who is an earl.” She sighed. “However, I’m tired and perhaps not at my most sensible. So I suppose she can stay—”

“Thank you!” He leaned forward and almost gripped her hand. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

Miss Wellfleet folded the towel with restless hands. “May I ask if your sole reason for coming here was to divest yourself of Rose?”

“No—no, of course not.” He pulled out the small bundle containing the rose. He knew it was useless, her father, the rose expert, was dead. But he couldn’t stop a small spurt of hope. “I’d like to identify this rose. Do you recognize it?”

“I supposed you’re only asking me as a last resort. Because my father is no longer with us.” She held out a peremptory hand. “Let me see it.”

Her face was a smooth, expressionless mask. However, he detected traces of tired resignation at the implication that she could not be expected to have the depth of knowledge exhibited by a man.

When he placed the limp spray in her palm, she held it up to her nose and breathed in several times with closed eyes, cupping the flowers in her hands. Then she gave it a cursory examination before pulling the petals off of one flower.

“Stop!” He reached over to wrench it out of her hand. She turned her shoulder, blocking him. “What are you doing?”

“Counting the petals. Why?”

“You’re destroying it! How shall I identify it if you ruin it?”

She held it out. “Take it. Plant it, or allow me to root it. Or graft it. If it grows, you can ask your friend, Mr. Lee, to identify it in two or three years from the shape of the bush and bloom habit. Most men who grow roses agree that it takes at least one cycle of blooming to identify a rose with any assurance.”

“Two years!”

“Yes—if you want to be sure. And isn’t that why you wish to identify it? So you can purchase a specimen for your own garden?”

“Yes—but…”

“Yes?”

He gazed into her coolly discerning eyes and realized she was aware that he was not being open with her. But given Mr. Lee’s reaction, he could not bring himself to tell the complete truth. The rose wouldn’t last long enough to find another master gardener, assuming he could even locate one in London. “It’s…a wager. Silly, I know, but one of my friends said I couldn’t identify this rose.” The tips of his ears burned.

“I see.” Her eyes grew colder. “This is all a wager?” She glanced at Rose.

“No, of course not. Not Rose—she’s not part of it.”

Miss Wellfleet’s fingers pushed the petals into a line on the table and hovered over them. Thirteen petals, thin and wilting, spread in a tattered line. The slender spray was dying. The small, tight buds had already blackened and hung limply. His chest tightened with frustration.

Then with a theatrical gesture that suggested more defiance than scientific inquiry, she ripped apart the remaining flowers. She arranged the petals in three parallel lines, one for each flower. The roses didn’t all have the same number of petals. The first had thirteen petals. The next had eleven. The final rose had seventeen.

After examining what remained of the stalk, the yellow stamens, and leaves, she looked at him.

Although she didn’t precisely shrug, there was a quality in her expression that spoke of disdain when she said, “Rosa Collina fastigiata.”

“That’s it?” His tired disappointment reminded him of the lateness of the hour. Useless. He needn’t have come here at all. Lee had it right the first time.

“Well, yes. What were you expecting?”

“Something…more. A name…”

“That is a name.” Irritation sharpened her voice. “Or Flat-Flowered Hill Rose, if you prefer an English one.”

“You’re sure?”’

Her eyes hardened. “As sure as I can be from this small spray.” She flung the petals and twig onto the table. “No one can be absolutely sure without seeing the bush and knowing the growth habit and bloom cycles. Have you any idea how many roses there are?”

“I—”

“That’s why your friend made a clever wager—if wager it was. My lord. And if the true wager wasn’t bringing that girl, Rose, to a spinster plantsman.”

“No. Truly, I apologize. I sincerely appreciate the name. And Rose was an accidental meeting on my way. She was nearly killed in the road a few blocks from here. I couldn’t just leave her—for God’s sake—she’s just a child!”

“No, I don’t suppose you could,” she replied grudgingly. One of her slender hands rested on the girl’s lank hair. “It’s late. You have your name. I hope you win your wager.”

With a coolness he deserved but saddened him nonetheless, she gestured for him to leave. The butler, Mr. Abbott, waited just outside the French doors to the greenhouse. His silent presence ensured Miss Wellfleet had never been truly alone with Charles. Somehow, this reminded him of how attractive he found her, and he flushed when he caught Mr. Abbott’s curious gaze.

However, his embarrassment faded as he remembered his purpose.

A life could be saved if he interpreted Rosa Collina fastigiata properly.

How many people named Collins lived in London? Unless the clue rested with the English name, Flat-Flowered Hill Rose. Did this blossom point to a location instead of a person?

Time was slipping away.
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A Rose Before Dying is available at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords.