Coffee Pot Book Club – Page 3

I’m delighted to welcome Deborah Swift and her new book, The Cameo Keeper, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #Renaissance #GiuliaTofana #Poison #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Deborah Swift and her new book, The Cameo Keeper, to the blog with an excerpt from the novel.

Rome, September 1644

As soon as Mia opened the door Donna Olimpia came straight in, looking side to side as if to check no-one could see her.

Mia extended a hand in greeting. ‘This way, honoured Signora.’

‘What’s that smell?’

‘Lavender, Signora. For making the linen smell sweet.’ She indicated the stairs and the woman went ahead of her, heavy feet and thick ankles under her richly embroidered black skirts. At the top Mia pointed to the door off the piano nobile and followed her client into the cooler room at the back of the house.

Donna Olimpia threw back her widow’s veil to survey the sala, which was probably much smaller and more humble than any she was used to. Mia examined her client in turn, for clues as to what might cause her headaches, even though she was no expert at all.

A determined face. Thick eyebrows over shrewd eyes, and a manner that meant business.

Seeming satisfied by the look of the place, Donna Olimpia took the chair opposite Mia’s. ‘My servants tell me you are the best in Rome for women’s ailments,’ she said. ‘But you look younger than I imagined. I’d got the impression you were older.’

‘How can I help you, Signora?’

‘I have these headaches – megrim, my physician calls them. But he is no use. All his bloodletting hasn’t changed them one iota. They start with my eyes blurring and the room starts to swim, and then the headache. Torture. Like iron bands around my head. When it comes, I can do nothing but lie down in a dark room. They make me weak, and I can’t afford weakness. Not now.’

‘And how long do they last?’

‘Days. Sometimes three days at a stretch. They are debilitating and nothing seems to help.’

‘You have no headache now?’

‘Only the cardinals and their demands.’ She gave a small smile.

‘We have several remedies for headaches, but I will go down to my store and bring you something that may soothe your excess humours. Would you like refreshment while you wait?’ Mia couldn’t help the tingle of excitement that the great lady was actually sitting in her sala.

‘Nothing, thank you. I mustn’t be away from the city long or my servants will wonder where I am.’

Mia gave a small curtsey, as was the custom, and hurried downstairs to where Giulia was waiting. Giulia raised her eyebrows in question.

‘She’s here, and she says it’s a megrim. Have you anything for that?’

Giulia reached up to a high shelf. ‘I’ll give her a simple mix of vervain and lemongrass. It won’t do her any good, but it won’t do her any harm either.’ Giulia took a corked bottle down and passed it over. ‘Now hurry. The sooner we can be rid of her, the sooner I’ll be able to breathe easy.’

Mia scurried back up the stairs, but was disconcerted to see Donna Olimpia had gone through the open door to her small workroom and was now snooping through the books turned to the wall. With a jolt, Mia saw she was studying one on astrology. Even worse, she recognised it as one of the treatises favouring Galileo, a man considered heretical by the last Pope.

Donna Olimpia turned when Mia entered, still holding the book, her finger acting as bookmark in the heavy leather volume.

‘Here, Signora.’ Mia said, holding out the bottle of milky liquid. ‘This preparation has proved to be very good in cases such as yours.’

Donna Olimpia didn’t take it. ‘You have expensive tastes. Many books on the stars, and some on medicine, I see. And charts.’ She indicated the parchments of the heavens that were pinned to the walls.

This was a conversation Mia didn’t want to have. ‘I have an interest, that is all. In how it relates to healing. My main work is simple remedies from the kitchen.’ She was sweating now, fearing Donna Olimpia would denounce her to the Inquisition.

‘These are not simple tracts for the average reader. They are written in some depth. And that is a costly globe of the night sky. Very impressive. You have knowledge of the stars?’

Mia floundered. ‘No.’ The only safe answer.

‘But I wager you can make an astrological chart and do a reading?’ Donna Olimpia pinned her with a steely gaze.

‘Only for myself, in private, not—’

‘Then you could draw one up for me, could you not? And I have a very precise question. I would pay you well if you did me this favour.’

‘But I’m just an amateur, I don’t know that—’

Donna Olimpia waved the book at her. ‘Don’t dissemble with me. These are not books for the beginner.’

‘My apologies, madam, I—’

‘You will draw up my chart. Guess if you must, but I must know how long I have.’

‘You mean how long will you live?’ It was an astonishing question that no-one had ever asked, let alone a woman who was the Pope’s sister-in-law, because it was a question that could be heresy against God.

‘No, no. Not how long will I live! I don’t care about that. How long will my brother-in-law live – what do the stars say about that? In other words, how much time do I have for my vision – my quest to turn this city around?’

Here’s the Blurb

Rome 1644: A Novel of Love, Power, and Poison

Remember tonight… for it is the beginning of always ― Dante Alighieri

In the heart of Rome, the conclave is choosing a new Pope, and whoever wins will determine the fate of the Eternal City.

Astrologer Mia and her fiancé Jacopo, a physician at the Santo Spirito Hospital, plan to marry, but the election result is a shock and changes everything.

As Pope Innocent X takes the throne, he brings along his sister-in-law, the formidable Donna Olimpia Maidalchini, known as La Papessa – the female Pope. When Mia is offered a position as her personal astrologer, she and Jacopo find themselves on opposite sides of the most powerful family in Rome.

Mia is determined to protect her mother, Giulia Tofana, a renowned poisoner. But with La Papessa obsessed with bringing Giulia to justice, Mia and Jacopo’s love is put to the ultimate test.

As the new dawn of Renaissance medicine emerges, Mia must navigate the dangerous political landscape of Rome while trying to protect her family and her heart. Will she be able to save her mother, or will she lose everything she holds dear?

For fans of “The Borgias” and “The Crown,” this gripping tale of love, power, and poison will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very end.

Praise:

‘historical fiction that is brisk, fresh and bristling with intrigue’
~ Bookmarked Reviews ★★★★★

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Meet the Author

Deborah Swift is the author of twenty novels of historical fiction.

Her Renaissance novel in this series, The Poison Keeper, was recently voted Best Book of the Decade by the Wishing Shelf Readers Award. Her WW2 novel Past Encounters was the winner of the BookViral Millennium Award, and is one of seven books set in the WW2 era.

Deborah lives in the North of England close to the mountains and the sea.

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I’m delighted to welcome Samantha Ward-Smith and her new book, Ravenscourt, to the blog #HistoricalRomance #HistoricalFiction #GothicRomance #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Samantha Ward-Smith and her new book, Ravenscoirt, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt

Alex was left alone rattling around the large, quiet house – all clocks stopped, no other living soul. He examined the room. The dust covers had obviously been removed, and an attempt made to clean and air it. The window shutters however remained shut, making the room feel like a red tomb. He could already hear the rain that had threatened beginning to fall outside. But the fire was welcoming, as were the wine, bread, and cheese he had been left. He was glad to sate his hunger at least, and he readily did so before he began his search. Even now he was eager to be gone from the place, and the sooner he found the journal or any revealing papers Sir Charles had left the better.

The desk was clear, as if all traces of Sir Charles had been swept away, and he remembered Sir David’s account of it being like this in the aftermath of his friend’s death. Alex opened the drawers to find some papers, old invoices, some plain stationery, and an old appointment book. He wondered what had become of it all – his father’s desk in both London and the Abbey had been full of his father’s life, but this desk was bereft of any trace of its owner. He slumped down in the chair by the fire, worrying his trip would be futile, and closed his eyes. But of course, Sir Charles would have left nothing secret in so obvious a place.

The storm outside had intensified, and Alex was jolted awake by a clap of thunder overhead as the rain lashed at the shuttered windows. The fire was dying slowly in the grate, and the room was growing colder. There was a stillness to the room and his heart pounded as beads of sweat prickled on his back even though his body began to shiver from the cold.

A loud crash, followed by the sound of shattering glass within the house, made him jump and he gripped the chair. Alex’s breath came in short, shallow gasps as his eyes fixed on the study door, watching to see if the handle would turn. He sat there, waiting, but there was nothing. The house was quiet once again, with just the rain tormenting him, pushing as if to be let in the windows, rattling the shutters in denied fury. His heart rate slowed as he convinced his trembling body it was simply the storm which continued to crash around the house. There was no one there.

His pocket watch showed the hour to be two in the morning. He rose slowly from the chair, his body stiff and his nerves frayed. He left the study, ignoring the shadowy library with its vaulted ceiling, and gripping the lantern, he retraced his steps back to the hall to find the prepared bedroom.

His oil lamp afforded minimal light, and the hall was darker now as the night’s black mantle dulled the lantern window. Alex shivered as he gazed up at it, high above him, a sickly reminder of another ceiling from which had shone stars from a Venetian sky. As suddenly as it had come the storm had now passed so there was an eerie silence, and the shrouded furniture within the hall played tricks on the imagination. Alex grasped the first newel post of the stairs, glancing upwards once again at the shadows as if he expected to see the figures of Arabella and Mary waiting for him. He slowly climbed the stairs.

Once inside his own chilly room, he removed only his shoes, and pulling back the heavy damask cover, he climbed into the bed fully clothed as the coldness gripped him. Wrapped tightly in the cover, at first he thought sleep would evade him, his mind still full of turmoil, and his senses acutely on edge. But soon his eyes grew too heavy, and he could no longer fight his exhaustion even though he was not yet ready to sacrifice himself to the house.

Here’s the Blurb

He wanted to be gone from the dark enclosing room, with its mocking misery, to be gone from this house of nightmares, of shattered dreams, and discovered secrets which could not be put back in the box.

Venice, 1880.

Alexander, Viscount Dundarran, seeks refuge from scandal amidst the fading grandeur of crumbling palazzos during the infamous Carnival in the city. There he encounters the enigmatic Lady Arabella Pembrook—a young, beautiful widow. Both are scarred by their pasts but find solace in each other and a chance at redemption.

But when duty calls Alexander back to England upon his father’s death, a darker journey begins. Travelling to Ravenscourt, the decaying estate once belonging to Arabella’s late husband, Alexander must confront the house’s disturbing legacy which has echoed through the generations. Within its walls lie secrets that refuse to stay buried and will threaten everything he thought he knew. But can Alex uncover the truth in time?

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Meet the Author

Samantha Ward-Smith is the author of Tower of Vengeance, her debut historical novel set in the Tower of London during the 13th century, and the forthcoming Ravenscourt, a Victorian Gothic tale unfolding across Venice, London, and the windswept Lancashire moors. She lived in London for over three decades, building a career in investment banking while also pursuing a PhD in English at Birkbeck.

For the past 13 years she has volunteered at the Tower of London, an experience that provided invaluable historical insight and directly shaped her writing. Now based in Kent by the sea, Samantha continues to explore the intersections of history, place, and story, writing in the company of her two cats, Belle and Rudy.

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I’m delighted to welcome Erryn Lee and her book, What Remains,to the blog #HistoricalFiction #DualTimeline #TimeSlipFiction #HistoricalThriller #ForensicFiction #AncientRome #Vesuvius #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Erryn Lee and her book, What Remains, to the blog with an extract.

Extract

As I held the weapon in my right hand I imagined using my left to take hold of the Praetorian’s hair to pull it back towards me, leaning over the prone body as I had in my nightmare to press the pugio to the man’s throat and slice from left to right, digging the blade in so deeply at the right that it shaved the mandible and jarred against the bone of the mastoid process, almost sticking. In my mind, I could see the bright gush of blood and feel its heat as it washed over my fingers, while the body jerked beneath my left hand and then subsided.

I dropped the pugio on the bench beside the skull and had enough time to lean across the sink before the scalding burn in my throat became gut-wrenching spasms as all that was inside me poured outwards. When the heaving subsided I hung over the sink, a single trail of thick saliva dripping from my chin, making its way towards the mess at the bottom. My throat scalded and my eyes flooded with tears. It took two hands, one on each side of the sink to push me upright. When I did, the room swam as though underwater.

Here’s the Blurb

What Remains is a haunting dual-timeline mystery that bridges centuries-and secrets-between ancient Rome and the modern world.

Forensic anthropologist Tori Benino has just landed the opportunity of a lifetime: leading a dig at a long-buried Roman village lost to the eruption of Vesuvius. But when she uncovers the remains of a Praetorian guard hidden in an ancient latrine-clearly murdered-Tori realizes she’s stumbled onto something far more sinister than a routine excavation. As she digs deeper into the past, her own carefully ordered life begins to fall apart.

Nearly two thousand years earlier, Thalia, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, is desperate to escape an arranged marriage to a brutal and politically powerful senator. Her only hope lies with a Praetorian soldier assigned to guard her-but trusting him could cost her everything.

As past and present collide, What Remains asks: When history is buried, what truths refuse to stay hidden?

Perfect for fans of Kathy Reichs and Kate Quinn, this novel is inspired by true events and delivers a compelling blend of suspense, history, and heart.

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Meet the Author

Erryn Lee has spent most of her life between the covers of books, her love for historical fiction drew her to a career as an English and History teacher, where she enjoys sharing her passion for both language and the past with young adults (at least until she needs to give it up to write full time).

When not teaching or writing she is deeply immersed in research and studying her Masters in History. Erryn lives with her husband, a fluctuating number of horses and three bossy cavoodles on a horse farm in the picturesque central west of NSW, Australia.

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I’m delighted to welcome Rosemary Griggs and her book, Mistress of Dartington Hall, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #WomenInHistory #Elizabethan #SpanishArmada #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Rosemary Griggs and her book, Mistress of Dartington Hall, Book 3 in the Daughters of Devon series, to the blog with a guest post.

Guest Post – historical background

Mistress of Dartington Hall continues the story of a French Huguenot noblewoman, Lady Gabrielle Roberda Montgomery. Roberda’s father, Gabriel de Lorges, was a prominent Huguenot general. He gained notoriety as the man who accidentally killed King Henry II of France in a jousting accident.

Roberda married into one of Devon’s most prominent families. Her husband, Gawen Champernowne’s was the son of Sir Arthur Champernowne, a staunch Protestant. Sir Arthur was Queen Elizabeth’s Vice-Admiral of the Fleet of the West, and he had connections at court.

We followed Roberda’s traumatic childhood in war-torn France and her catastrophic marriage to Gawen in The Dartington Bride. In Mistress of Dartington Hall we join her in the autumn of 1587. Roberda has been managing Dartington Hall while her estranged husband, Gawen, has been away on the Queen’s business.

England has been at war with Spain for over two years. The Spanish king is preparing a formidable fleet of warships to launch an invasion. In 1587, everyone expected them to land at Falmouth, Plymouth or Dartmouth to establish a foothold on English soil. Thousands of Spanish soldiers would then disembark and rampage through the countryside. It must have been a terrifying time for the people of Dartington, only sixteen miles upriver from the port of Dartmouth. Many panic-inducing false alarms disturbed the people of Devon before the Spanish Armada’s arrival in July 1588.

Relations between England and Spain had been tense for a long time. After his wife, Queen Mary, died childless in 1558, Philip of Spain proposed to her sister, the new Queen Elizabeth. Elizabeth declined the offer, and Philip married elsewhere.

King Philip’s marriage to Elisabeth of Valois, the daughter of King Henry II of France, cemented the end of a long war between France and the Habsburgs. It was during the joust that accompanied the celebrations in Paris in the summer of 1559 that Roberda’s father’s lance shattered. His opponent, King Henry, had not put down his visor. A splinter of wood entered the king’s eye, and he died 11 days later. That accident changed the course of Gabriel’s life. It also set off the chain of events that brought Roberda to Dartington Hall.

After Queen Elizabeth I established a Protestant church in England, King Philip considered it his duty to return England to the Catholic faith. That, combined with political rivalry and economic competition, stoked his ambition to conquer England. He amassed a massive fleet of warships and gathered supplies.

In 1570, Pope Pius V excommunicated Elizabeth. The Pope supported Philip’s plan by promising forgiveness to those who took part in the invasion. Audacious English privateering raids on Spanish ships led by people like Sir Francis Drake made King Philip even more determined. The frequent attacks on Spanish ships and colonies disrupted Spanish trade and wealth. After the Treaty of Nonsuch, signed in 1585, confirmed England’s support for the Protestant Dutch rebels against Spanish rule, Philip put his plans in motion.

Sir Francis Drake’s audacious raid on Cadiz, known as ‘singeing the King of Spain’s beard’, destroyed around 30 Spanish ships and supplies, delaying the Armada’s launch by over a year. But everyone knew they would come.

England prepared, hoping the new English ships, faster and more manoeuvrable than the cumbersome Spanish galleons, would give them an advantage. However, Queen Elizabeth was notoriously parsimonious, leaving the English fleet short of powder and shot. Her reluctance to spend money frustrated her advisors, including the commander of the English fleet, Charles Howard.

Drake gathered ships at Plymouth, ready to meet the Spanish. However, many of his sailors fell ill and died from lack of food and cramped, unsanitary conditions on board. More men had to be conscripted from the surrounding area to replace them.

Sir Walter Raleigh’s network of warning beacons would signal the approach of the Spanish fleet. The Lord Lieutenant and his deputies mustered a militia — a sort of ‘Dad’s Army’ of poorly equipped, untrained militia-men. Roberda’s husband, Gawen Champernowne, was to lead cavalrymen drawn from the local nobility. These last-minute preparations would likely have proved inadequate had the invaders stuck to their initial plan.

Luckily, the Spanish commander decided to rendezvous with the Duke of Parma rather than first landing in the southwest. The Armada sailed on up the English Channel, pursued by Drake’s ships. At Gravelines, Drake sent in fire-ships to disrupt their formation. But it was bad weather that finally defeated King Philip’s attempt on England. The ‘Protestant Wind’ scattered them, driving them around the coast of Scotland. Some foundered on rocks; a few limped home to Spain. On land, Gawen Champernowne, who was to have led a cavalry troop against the expected attack, went home having seen no action.

The Armada failed in 1588, but the conflict continued for another sixteen years. In August 1595, the Spanish raided and burned villages in Cornwall. They attempted two more full-scale expeditions in 1596 and 1597. Roberda and the people of Devon continued to live with the threat of invasion. The war finally ended with the Treaty of London in 1604.

Meanwhile, in France, Roberda’s brothers sought to reclaim the estates they lost when their father died on the executioner’s block in Paris in 1574. The French Wars of Religion escalated into the War of the Three Henrys. Henry of Navarre became King Henry IV after both the Duke of Guise, leader of the Catholic League, and King Henry III, were assassinated.

During the 1590s Roberda’s brothers supported Henry IV in his campaigns to assert his authority. He faced opposition from the Catholic League, which Spain supported. Eventually, Henry IV publicly converted to Catholicism, and in 1594 he entered Paris, weakening the Catholic League. A year later. Henry IV formally declared war on Spain. The Edict of Nantes, issued in 1598, ended the religious wars in France. Catholicism became the state religion, but the Huguenots had substantial rights and religious freedoms. Roberda’s family reclaimed their lands. After her mother’s death, Roberda received her share, and her younger brother, Gabriel, eventually rebuilt the family home at Ducey.

Roberda’s life as Mistress of Dartington Hall, played out against an uncertain background. England was at war with Spain, and Devon was on the ‘front line’. Religion continued to divide her home country, France. Like many women of her time, she successfully managed a vast estate while Gawen was away. She overcame the hostility that met her in England as an incomer. Roberda gained the respect and trust of her estate workers, tenants and servants. Gawen’s return jeopardised her hard-won authority and put her in a difficult position. Should she trust him? Later, Roberda takes decisive action to secure her children’s inheritance. But can she eventually grasp the chance of happiness for herself?

Here’s the Blurb

1587. England is at war with Spain. The people of Devon wait in terror for King Philip of Spain’s mighty armada to unleash untold devastation on their land.

Roberda, daughter of a French Huguenot leader, has been managing the Dartington estate in her estranged husband Gawen’s absence. She has gained the respect of the staff and tenants who now look to her to lead them through these dark times.

Gawen’s unexpected return from Ireland, where he has been serving Queen Elizabeth, throws her world into turmoil. He joins the men of the west country, including his cousin, Sir Walter Raleigh, and his friend Sir Francis Drake, as they prepare to repel a Spanish invasion. Amidst musters and alarms, determined and resourceful Roberda rallies the women of Dartington. But, after their earlier differences, can she trust Gawen? Or should she heed the advice of her faithful French maid, Clotilde?

Later Roberda will have to fight if she is to remain Mistress of Dartington Hall, and secure her children’s inheritance. Can she ever truly find fulfilment for herself?

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Meet the Author

Author and speaker Rosemary Griggs has been researching Devon’s sixteenth-century history for years. She has discovered a cast of fascinating characters and an intriguing network of families whose influence stretched far beyond the West Country. She loves telling the stories of the forgotten women of history — the women beyond the royal court; wives, sisters, daughters and mothers who played their part during those tumultuous Tudor years: the Daughters of Devon.

Her novel, A Woman of Noble Wit, set in Tudor Devon, is the story of the life of Katherine Champernowne, Sir Walter Raleigh’s mother. The Dartington Bride, follows Lady Gabrielle Roberda Montgomery, a young Huguenot noblewoman, as she travels from war-torn France to Elizabethan England to marry into the prominent Champernowne family. Mistress of Dartington Hall, set in the time of the Spanish Armada, continues Roberda’s story.

Rosemary is currently working on her first work of non-fiction — a biography of Kate Astley, childhood governess to Queen Elizabeth I, due for publication in 2026.

Rosemary creates and wears sixteenth-century clothing, and brings the past to life through a unique blend of theatre, history and re-enactment at events all over the West Country. Out of costume, Rosemary leads heritage tours at Dartington Hall, a fourteenth-century manor house that was home of the Champernowne family for 366 years.

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I’m delighted to welcome Paul Rushworth-Brown and his book, Outback Odyssey , to the blog #OutbackOdyssey #HistoricalFiction #AustralianHistory #IndigenousStories #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Paul Rushworth-Brown and his book, Outback Odyssey, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt – Cultural Encounter with Jarrah

“I ask your permission to teach him our ways and show him our culture and Country.”

The Elders exchanged glances, the firelight catching the lines of their faces. The eldest of them, Jarrah, was the first to speak. His voice was deep, and his eyes carried the weight of generations.

“This is not a decision that should be made lightly.”

Kullindi leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “What is it that you see in this whitefella? You think he is worthy of this — why?” Her words hung in the air, as heavy as the night.

Dhirrari’s reply came steady. “Jimmy has walked a hard road, not so different from my own. He has known loss and loneliness. He was raised without family or a place to call home, but he has chosen to connect, to understand, to belong. I have watched him — not for days, but for moons. He listens, not just with his ears, but with his heart. He doesn’t take from the Land without thought; he walks it with care.”

The silence stretched long, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Finally, Jarrah gave a slow nod. “Then let it be so. But remember — to walk this path is not to borrow. It is to carry. It will change him.”

Jimmy bowed his head, understanding without needing every word. For the first time in his life, he felt the weight of acceptance settle on his shoulders like a mantle he was willing to bear.

Here’s the Blurb

1950s Australia. In the wake of war and dislocation, young Yorkshireman Jimmy journeys to the outback, chasing escape but finding something far more dangerous: the truth of himself and the land he now calls home.

What begins as a story of survival becomes a profound allegory of belonging, silence, and identity. As Jimmy collides with love and betrayal, he also encounters the enduring wisdom of the First Peoples — knowledge that most outsiders are too frightened to face, let alone write about.Outback Odyssey is sweeping and cinematic, a novel of resilience threaded with unexpected twists and allegorical depth. Already under consideration for a screenplay adaptation, it peels back the myths of Australia’s past to reveal what lies beneath: the unspoken histories

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Paul Rushworth-Brown was born in England and raised in Canada before emigrating to Australia at eighteen, where he became a citizen. By twenty, he had already travelled the world twice, hitchhiked across Australia, and worked as a navvy in outback Queensland — experiences that gave him an enduring respect for resilience, culture, and the landscapes that shape human character.

He later completed a Master’s degree at Charles Sturt University, honing the research skills that underpin his richly detailed novels. A high school teacher and former professional football coach, Paul draws on a lifetime of experience to bring authenticity and depth to his writing.

His novels are known for their cinematic sweep, allegorical undercurrents, and unexpected twists. Outback Odyssey, his fourth book, is a tale of survival and belonging set against the vast backdrop of 1950s Australia. Beneath its page-turning adventure lie questions of identity, silence, and reconciliation — themes that echo long after the final page.

Paul lives in Sydney, where he writes, teaches, and continues to explore the intersections of history and identity.

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I’m delighted to welcome Janet Tamaren and her book, Ugarit: Tales of a Lost City, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #AncientNearEast #BronzeAge #Ugarit #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Janet Tamaren and her book, Ugarit: Tales of a Lost City, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt

CHAPTER 4: AT THE HEALER’S SHOP

Yoninah’s house had the classic sign of the healer outside the door: a snake entwined around a pole.

Hearing a firm knock at the door from the street, Yoninah went to answer it. A middle-aged man stood there, nursing his left arm. The arm was clearly crooked.

“I broke my arm. Can you fix it?” he said with a slight accent.

“Yes, I can splint your arm for you,” she said. “And I have pain meds for you as well.”

“That would be most welcome.” He grimaced with the pain.

Showing him to the front room, where she kept her herbs and supplies, she got him situated on a comfortable bench. She was skilled at setting broken bones. Every month or so, someone from the docks appeared at her door with an injury to an arm or leg. The men did heavy work: unloading cargo from the ships.

“I have silver to pay you. I am told you are good at your work. I’ve broken bones before. I know it will lay me up for a while.” The man attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite work.

Looking more closely at him, she saw that he had the cheekbones, chin, and beard of the Aegean. His hair was black, mixed with a sprinkling of gray. The skin of his face and arms was heavily tanned, with creases across the face, courtesy of the harsh sun of the Great Sea. A handsome face except for the grimace.

Probably a refugee from the war in the north, from Troy, she thought. A war that had been over and done with for a good twenty years.

She picked up a salve of poppy seed extract and myrrh and returned to the bench where the Mycenean sat. She washed the area and applied the numbing ointment as a compress. As she worked, she made small talk to distract him from his pain: “I’m guessing you are Mycenaean. Not much accent there, but you look like you’re from the Aegean. How did you break your arm?”

“I was carrying wine jars on a cart drawn by an ox. The cursed animal took a tumble,” said the Mycenean. “I tried to catch the jars before they hit the ground. The jars survived but my arm broke. Heard the thing snap. Hurts like the sting of a thousand bees.”

“Well, let the compress work for a bit. Should feel better in a short time,” said Yoninah. “Let me find a splint to fit you.”

“And maybe a cup of honeyed wine to take the edge off?” he asked.

“Certainly,” she said. Yoninah called for her daughter Laylah to fetch a flask with honeyed wine.

“How did you end up in Ugarit?” asked Yoninah. “This is a distance from the Aegean Sea.”

“The war,” he said flatly. “I mean the Trojan War. I joined the fleet in Mycenae when I was seventeen because I thought it would be a grand adventure. They paid a good bonus as well. Ten stinking years later – most of it spent outside the grand walls of Troy, in a siege that was going nowhere –we somehow broke through the walls, looted the city, and burnt it.”

“I was sick of the whole adventure by then. And sick of the sea: too many storms, too many shipwrecks. Never wanted to go back across the Great Sea.” He paused for a beat and said, “Is my arm almost ready? I can’t feel the pain as much anymore.”

“Good,” she said. “Lay your arm flat on the table. And here is that wine for you.”

Taking a cup of wine from Laylah with his right arm, he drank it down in one fell swoop.

Yoninah had him lay his misshapen left arm on the table, and manipulated the broken bone back into position. She splinted it with a plank of cedar wood and wrapped it in clean cloths. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“Not bad,” the man said. The man’s attempt at a smile proved a bit more successful.

“You fought at Troy. That’s a goodly distance from Ugarit,” Yoninah said as she gathered up a sling. “How did you wind up here?”

“Never wanted to go back to the open sea. Took passage on a ship bound for Ugarit. As you know, these ships travel along the coast. That took a scant ten days, what with favorable winds and currents. Been here a good twenty tears now,” he said.

She gave him a sling, to keep his elbow bent and the arm held close against his chest. She tied the sling herself. As she bent over him, he stared at her chest.

“That’s a pretty necklace you are wearing.” His eyes were fixed on the pendant she wore, a painted terracotta figure of a naked woman.

Yoninah bit her lip as she tried to hold back a smile. Her patient was a bit tipsy now.

“Thank you. It is Asherah, the Queen of Heaven.” She was momentarily distracted by the intensity of his gaze. She reverted quickly to her healer persona.

“There you go. No using the arm! For at least four weeks. Do you have a wife or daughter to keep an eye on you?” Yoninah couldn’t meet his eyes as she asked this question.

“No,” he said. “My wife died. I have a friend who can help. I’ll be all right.”

“My husband died five years ago,” Yoninah said before she could catch herself. She didn’t really need to tell him this information. She turned away and busied herself for a moment.

“I’ll need you to come back in two weeks,” she said. I’ll need to make sure the arm is healing.”

“My name is Menelaus. And yours is?”

“You can call me Yoninah” she said.

Giving her a silver shekel for the arm repair, he swore he would be careful with the arm and agreed to return in two weeks. He gave her a lopsided grin at that point. Possibly due to the excess of wine, she thought.

After he left, she felt uplifted. That had been an unusually pleasant interaction. The bone had gone smoothly back into place.

Laylah had remained respectful while the Mycenean was there. After he left, she looked at her mother’s flushed face and laughed. “You like him.” she said.

Yoninah agreed: “He is handsome enough. He kept us amused.” She thought, “It is true, I am looking to forward to seeing him again.”

Here’s the Blurb

A captivating tale of bravery in the face of heartbreak and upheaval.

IN THE SPRING OF 1190 BC, on the sun-drenched shores of the eastern Mediterranean, the thriving city of Ugarit pulses with life, trade, and courtly intrigues. But danger brews beyond its walls.

Yoninah, a gifted healer, offers herbs and amulets to ease her neighbours’ suffering. When a Mycenaean – an ex-soldier from the Trojan War—stumbles into her life, he reawakens memories she thought long buried. Just as whispers of war echo ever closer.

Meanwhile, in the royal court, Thut-Moses is a scribe who was trained in the temples of Egypt. The king is paralyzed by ominous messages: foreign invaders are razing one coastal city after another. As the tide of destruction nears, Ugarit’s fate hangs in the balance.

Torn between loyalty and survival, love and duty, Yoninah and Thut-Moses must each decide: what will they risk to protect what the hold most dear?

Rich with historical detail and inspired by newly-translated cuneiform tablets unearthed form Ugarit’s ashes, UGARIT brings to life the final days of a cosmopolitan world on the brink of collapse – a sweeping tale of courage and resilience at the twilight of the Bronze Age.

Praise for Ugarit:

“A masterfully told tale-rich, riveting, and utterly transporting. I couldn’t put it down.”

★★★★★ – Historical Fiction Review

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Janet Tamaren is a retired physician who practiced for two decades in rural Kentucky. Now living in Denver with her husband, she enjoys writing and is the author of a medical memoir and a guide to Hebrew Bible stories. She began writing UGARIT during the COVID lockdown.

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I’m delighted to welcome Luv Lubker and her new book, Under The Sword, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #VictorianEra #KaiserWilhelm #QueenVictoria #Anti-Trafficking #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Luv Lubker and her new book, Under The Sword, from The Rival Courts series, to the blog, with an excerpt.

Louischen sat on the broken branch of a tree which leaned over a little stream, gazing down into the water at the round face and big eyes of the little girl who seemed to look back up at her. Her face, too, was streaked with tears.

“Oh, Charlotta, I’m so glad I found you here,” she whispered. “You are Charlotta, but I must call you Charlotta the second, as Charlotta – the first – is gone forever. Papa – Papa killed her. I never thought he would do such a thing, but I saw her shatter into pieces with such a look of anguish! Oh, I can tell you everything, Charlotta.” She looked away and sighed. “Only, I can’t see you indoors. I can only see you here. Charlotta – the first – was with me so often. She was in the little glass over my bed. And – oh, Charlotta, I was so afraid. I couldn’t move, because there were bits of glass all over my bed, and I was afraid. But he can’t smash you. The wind can blow you away, into little bits, but you will still be there,” she whispered, as the wind blew and the face in the water rippled away for a moment.

Her little yellow voice seemed to float around Charlotta’s face, instead of hers. At first there had been waves of blue around the sides, but now, shimmering stars of deep, piney green fell over it. She sighed happily.

“I feel so peaceful here. But I wouldn’t dare to go to sleep here – the wind might blow me down and I wouldn’t want to sleep in your bed. No – I would rather sleep in the orchard, if I slept outside – in, or under, the cherry trees. It would be so nice to be buried in their petals, I think. But you will never know that, unless –” Louischen took a cherry pit out of her pocket, and looked at it. “Unless I planted one here, but the gardener says it would take years before it could rain down its pretty petals. But perhaps…” Louischen slipped carefully down from the branch, dug a little spot in the ground, next to the water, and covered it over. She bent down and kissed the spot. “Make a blanket for Charlotta, please,” she whispered.

She turned round and threw her arms around the pine tree, kissing it. “I have something for you, too,” she whispered. She took a bunch of pressed cherry blossoms from her pocket, and tucked it under the pine needles. “You belong together,” she whispered, turning her head on its side to look at the flowers peeking up, and smiled at them.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, and ran across the little island, carefully stepping across the fallen tree.

Here’s the blurb

From acclaimed Victorian historical author, Luv Lubker, the author of “Under His Spell” comes the continuing romance of the Princess Royal Victoria and Frederick III of Prussia.

Join Queen Victoria’s eldest daughter and her husband, future German Emperor Frederick III in this third installment of The Rival Courts family saga, as they climb the treacherous path to their dream of German unification in the Franco-Prussian war of 1870.

In the calm after the storm, Vicky and Fritz have it all: a devoted marriage, a growing family, and the promise of a bright future. But Fritz’s Uncle Karl lies in wait behind the scenes, hatching his newest plot. A shocking outcome of Vicky’s Royal duties will bring fresh doubts to Fritz’s heart, and his fatherhood.

As personal tragedy strikes and shakes them to their core, Fritz is forced to lead the largest battle history has ever seen. One which could change the face of Europe forever.

Vicky’s best friend struggles to shield her daughters from the sinister force that seeks to control them. The youngest shares her grandfather’s uncanny ability to know the truth behind others’ motives. But can she see the truth in him? In such a dangerous world, what heroic role will this small child play?

Can they escape the danger and betrayal that lurks in every corner as they travel to the icy expanse of Russia, the peaceful Mediterranean shores, and the vast Eastern deserts?

Will Vicky and Fritz’s love and marriage survive a mysterious illness, or will Uncle Karl’s conspiracies tear them apart for good?

Fans of Clare McHugh’s A Most English Princess, Mary Hart Perry’s The Shadow Princess, and Daisy Goodwin’s Victoria will be swept away by this gripping tale of love, war, and intrigue. With rich historical detail and deeply human struggles, Under the Sword, the third installment of The Rival Courts saga, brings to life the triumphs and tragedies in a fight against a nefarious trade which flourished in the shadows of the Royal court. A must-read for lovers of Victorian-era royal fiction.

Trigger Warnings: All non-graphic:

Sex trafficking/prostitution encouraged by villain (but anti-trafficking is a strong theme); Rape, drugged gang-rape (off-the-page); Implied (off-the-page) child abuse (physical, sexual); Childhood pregnancy; Trauma processing/PTSD in historical setting; Death of child, grief; Occasional racist remark (strongly DISapproved by main character); Coerced marriage; War/battle scenes; ED/sexual disfunction (Discreet/non-explicit discussion and frustration of spouse); Implied death of pet cat; Historical views expressed by characters about homosexuality

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Luv Lubker began life in the Animal World, researching creatures great and small since before she can remember, and earning her degree in chicken psychology by age twelve. Not long after, she immigrated to the Victorian era, where she has lived half her life in close company with the Brontë sisters and made friends with Queen Victoria’s extended family, whom she now knows quite as well as her own kin.

Born in a cattle trough in the Appalachian Mountains, Luv currently resides in Texas’ Great Plains when visiting the modern world. When she isn’t writing or reading, she delights in preparing and savoring gourmet raw food with her family and exploring nature on long bike rides. Her special abilities include researching in seven languages and riding a unicycle since age seven.

Luv’s research delves into the unwritten stories that history left behind. Through unpublished letters, altered manuscripts, and deeply buried secrets, she reveals emotional truths concealed beneath the era’s refined exterior. Her novels give voice to the silenced, reveal what Victorians were taught to suppress and what their biographers chose to omit, tracing invisible scars that shaped lives, choices, and history itself.

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I’m delighted to welcome Christy Matheson and her book, The Boat on the Lake of Regret, to the blog #BoatOnTheLakeOfRegret #CastleInKilkennyFairyTales #HistoricalFantasy #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Chritsy Matheson and her book, The Boat on the Lake of Regret, The Castle in Kilkenny: Fairy Tales, to the blog with a snippet.

Snippet

Opening:

“Hannah!” Dylan calls. “Hannah?”

A shiver of worry runs up my spine. He never uses my real name.

“Here! I’m in the parlor!” Footsteps thunder down the hallway and Dylan bursts in. His hair is all mussed, his face is wild, and his jeans are in deplorable shape.

“What on earth happened? Come in and—”

“I’m fine. It’s yourself who needs to be careful.”

Fancy that, after barely making time for me for weeks, he bursts into my own home and orders me around!

He sees his mistake immediately. “I didn’t mean—look, I brought you this, Henny luv.”

Well, that’s a little better. He holds out his palm and I move close to look. He smells of campfire and sweat and rain, and I rest my hand on his arm just to feel the steady solid warmth of him.

“Oh, you didn’t have to buy me a ring! I’ve told you already that I’ll marry you, and we’re trying to save up.”

Despite my protests, the ring is lovely, and I reach for it, but Dylan closes his fist before I can touch it.

“It’s not that…I mean, of course we are. It’s just”—he takes my hand, his fingers cool and gentle—“there’s a whole story, but”—he slides the skin-warmed metal over my first knuckle—“first I want to —”

Here’s the Blurb

He has one last chance to be a fairy tale hero.

But she didn’t agree to be the damsel in distress.

When her longtime boyfriend unexpectedly slides a ring on her finger, Hannah is whisked from her everyday bedroom to a medieval ball. Hannah knew that Dylan would do anything to prove to her parents that he’s husband material, including going into the Fae world—but she never agreed to go through the Veil herself.

Now one of three princess sisters, Hannah is paired with now-Prince Dylan. But, homesick and blindsided, she pretends the Veil has wiped him from her memory.

As her prince scrambles in vain to be the right kind of hero, Hannah ignores her instincts and follows her new sisters onto a mysterious boat—which promptly sails them into a land of giants, magical traps, and enchanted pianos…and away from Dylan.

Read now to journey back to medieval Ireland, complete with the Fae and mythological monsters, in this fairy tale adventure and sweet “it was always you” romance.

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Characters you connect with. Adventure. Love. Family… And endings that are more than a sugar rush.

When Christy Matheson is not throwing ordinary characters into fairy tales, she is busy raising five children. (Very busy.) She writes character-driven historical fiction with and without fantasy elements, and her “fresh, smart, and totally charming” stories have won multiple awards.

Christy is also an embroidery artist, classically trained pianist, and sews all of her own clothes. She lives in Oregon, on a country property that fondly reminds her of a Regency estate (except with a swing set instead of faux Greek ruins), with her husband, five children, three Shelties, one bunny, and an improbable quantity of art supplies.

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I’m delighted to welcome Ken Tentarelli and his new book, The Blackest Time, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #Medieval #ItalianHistoricalFiction #Plague #BlackDeath #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Ken Tentarelli and his new book, The Blackest Time, to the blog with an excerpt.

Excerpt

Parishioners rise up in anger when a priest declares the Black Plague a divine punishment fortheir sins

.Those attending the morning mass included families living in the parish, lumbermen who had been logging forests in the nearby hills, The lumbermen clustered together near the front of the church, close to the altar. They formed the single largest group. Everyone, Gino included, studied the people nearby, fearful someone close by might show symptoms of the sickness: flushed faces, lumps, or darkened areas on the neck or arms.

While waiting for mass to begin, Gino listened to snatches of conversation. Men raised their voices enough to speak with other men, probably neighbors with whom they had sat elbow-to-elbow in a crowded tavern months ago, and now wouldn’t get within an arm’s length of each other. Women felt it imprudent to speak above a whisper in church, so they merely smiled at each other across the void.

Gino heard some families were absent from mass because they were mourning the death of family members. In one family, it was said, both the mother and father had succumbed, leaving behind three youngsters. No one knew what had become of those children. Stories circulated of entire families having been claimed by the sickness. Most surprising were reports of families fleeing the city to escape the pestilence. For the past two years, people had streamed into Florence from the countryside to seek salvation from the famine. Did the departure of these families mark a turnaround, the beginning of an exodus?

Although the lumbermen were far from him, he sensed hostility in their guttural outbursts. Many had left wives and children in the city while they logged in the hills, so death rampaging unchecked though the city threatened their families and they reacted with anger. They wanted something more tangible than bad air—possibly someone—to blame for the misery.

A small bell sounded when the sacristy door opened, and a priest emerged, followed by two altarboys. When they reached the altar, the priest spread his upraised arms and delivered the opening blessing. Near the midpoint of the service, the priest stepped to the pulpit to deliver his sermon.“We are all God’s children,” he began. “God loves us … all of us. He wants us to love Him, to heed His word, and to obey Him. Our Lord would not cause His children to suffer without reason.” Shifting from a tempered tone, the priest boomed, “This pestilence has been inflicted upon us because we have offended Him. There can be no other explanation.”

Shaken by the indictment, people glanced furtively at those around them as if they were all co-conspirators in a plot against God. “What could we have done to deserve this punishment?” they asked themselves.

Pleased his words had stunned his flock as he had intended, he continued, “We have sinned against God, and only by ending our sinful ways can we expect Him to end this scourge. You may not be an adulterer or a fornicator, but ask yourself, are you committing the sins of envy and pride?”

One lumberman’s face reddened. He bellowed, “My wife was a good, holy, God-fearing woman. She committed no sin worthy of this damnation; yet she suffered a horrible death. She cannot beheld to account for this misery.”

The outcry froze everyone. The priest gripped the lectern so tightly his knuckles turned white; his fingernails dug into the wood. Another lumberman shouted, “My son was barely old enough to walk. He was an innocent child. What sin could he have committed? But he was struck down.”

Family groups moved farther away from the bellicose woodsmen, who began grumbling in support of their comrades. A third man called out, “I wear my best smock when I come to church.” He pointed to its threadbare sleeve and its soiled shoulder. “This is my best! Look at it !It’s frayed and spotted. How could anyone who dresses like this be accused of being prideful?

“Do you know who is prideful?” he asked and raised an arm angled toward the priest. “Thepriests! Look at them. They don’t wear frayed vestments. Before the new bishop came, the priests in this diocese wore plain linen vestments. But now, linen isn’t good enough for them. They all wear expensive silk.” The eyes of all the parishioners shifted to the priest.

The man continued, “The bishop refused to serve communion from a pewter chalice. Now all chalices in the diocese are silver … all except the one used by the bishop. His is gold.” He spread his arms wide. “My wife spends nights in the dark to preserve her lone candle, while this church and others are lit up like brothels.”

He swept his gaze around the church to make eye contact with everyone. “For two years, when rain destroyed the crops, we all struggled to find food for our families. Beggars starved in the streets. But do you know of any priest who went hungry? None of them went to sleep with pangs of hunger. They made sure their bellies were filled.”

“If this terrible disease has been unleashed upon us by the sin of pride, it is the bishop and his minions who brought it upon us.” He ended his tirade in a booming voice, saying, “We need to make the bishop stop his prideful ways and walk in the humble shoes of Saint Francis. I say we go to him now.” He strode the length of the nave and out the door, followed by the other lumbermen.

Here’s the Blurb

Set in the 1300s during the devastating black plague, The Blackest Time is a powerful tale of compassion, love, and the human spirit’s ability to endure immense adversity.

Gino, the central character, is a young man who leaves his family’s farm to find work in a pharmacy in Florence. His experiences show us how people coped in the most horrific time in history.

Shortly after Gino arrived in the city, two years of incessant rain destroyed crops in the countryside, leading to famine and despair in the city. Gino offers hope and help to the suffering— he secures shelter for a woman forced to leave her flooded farm, rescues a young girl orphaned by the plague, and aids others who have lost everything.

The rains had barely ended when the plague hit the city, exposing the true character of its people. While some blamed others for the devastation, the story focuses on the compassionate acts of neighbors helping each other overcome fear and suffering. Doctors bravely risk infection to care for their patients. A woman healer, wrongly accused of witchcraft and driven from the city, finds a new beginning in a village where her skills were appreciated.

Despite the hardships, love blossoms between Gino and a young woman he met at the apothecary. Together they survive, finding strength in each other and hope in a world teetering on the edge.

The Blackest Time is a testament to the strength of the human spirit in overcoming unimaginable tragedy.

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Ken Tentarelli is a frequent visitor to Italy. In travels from the Alps to the southern coast of Sicily, he developed a love for its history and its people.

He has studied Italian culture and language in Rome and Perugia, background he used in his award-winning series of historical thrillers set in the Italian Renaissance. He has taught courses in Italian history spanning time from the Etruscans to the Renaissance, and he’s a strong advocate of libraries and has served as a trustee of his local library and officer of the library foundation.

When not traveling, Ken and his wife live in beautiful New Hampshire.

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I’m delighted to welcome Nancy Jardine and her new book, Tailored Truths, to the blog #HistoricalFiction #FamilySaga #WomensFiction #Victorian #Scotland #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m delighted to welcome Nancy Jardine and her new book, Tailored Truths, Book 2 in the Silver Sampler Series, to the blog with a guest post.

Guest Post – Mill Owner Benevolence

My character, Margaret, has a variety of jobs in Tailored Truths. Two of them are in different areas of one of the larger mills in Dundee (Scotland). The time period covered in the book is between 1855 and 1868 when Dundee mills were, at times, highly profitable though the situation was also volatile, markets and sales being unpredictable. Workers were hired when high production was needed and they lost their jobs when things weren’t so rosy in the world markets. Margaret finds herself lucky to have a job when she desperately needs one, even if it pays a pittance!

During the earlier part of the 19^th Century, linen was the prime mill product in the Dundee area. Coarse linen weave was highly sought after for sailcloth; for canvas sacks and bags for transporting goods; and a coarse linen weave named Osnaburg was produced for sending to the American plantations to be made into rough clothing for slaves. The main drawback, however, was that the flax (raw product) tended to come from Baltic states. When Britain became embroiled in the Crimean War, between 1853-1856, the flax supplies from the Russian Baltic states were deemed as potentially unreliable. The larger mill owners in Dundee tended to work on a ‘six months’ system where supplies were ordered well in advance, since shipping from the Baltic also relied on an annual short-window of weather good enough for sailing ships. Not having continuous raw supplies presented a huge problem since linen was highly sought after during the Crimean War. The war office bought lots of linen products, the British army and navy requiring constant supplies and replacements to sails; uniforms; sacks; tents etc. Market prices fluctuated but some of the Dundee mills profited very well during the Crimean War, though there were the much leaner years afterwards when the War Office requisitions dwindled.

To offset potential losses from a lack of flax, some of those larger mill owners in Dundee turned to producing jute weaves. Jute wasn’t a new product around Dundee, since some of the smaller weavers had already been producing jute products for decades, but the profit margin for them was low. Initially, the raw jute was grown in Bengal (India) and shipped to Dundee via local Indian dealers but when the larger mill owners saw jute as being profitable they organised the shipping themselves.

The tradition in Bengal had been for jute products to be hand-woven. There were no powered-looms nor any steam machinery in Bengal for spinning and weaving till later in the 1850s and 1860s, so there was no real competition when the big Dundee mills began jute mass production.

The raw jute needed to be softened first before carding and spinning could happen. Whale oil was already known to be a good product for that process and it was highly convenient that the quaysides at Dundee were regularly frequented by the huge whaling ships.

Some of the mill owners weathered the unpredictable markets very well and their bank accounts swelled enormously. Many of them chose to use their wealth to build new mansions for their families in the nearby coastal town of Broughty, or around the city of Dundee. In doing this, they provided much needed construction jobs, and then jobs for inside and outside staff. I used this situation in Tailored Truths, giving Margaret a taste of the high-life when she is taken on as a lady’s maid in one of the new mansions. The ‘family’ are naturally only on the periphery of high society, with Margaret experiencing it from the point of view as an elevated servant, but her situation means a glimpse into how the nouveaux riche of Dundee were living.

Some of the Dundee mill owners took opportunities to use some of their wealth for the benefit of the citizens of Dundee. Whether this was true altruism, or expected of them, could be debated at length but the facts are that some public buildings and facilities would not have been built so readily without hefty donations coming from the mill owners. Some of the still-existing public parks in Dundee came about from extensive donations, Baxter Park being a fine example. The land was acquired, planted up and turned into beautiful walkways for the working people of Dundee to enjoy when freed from their long hours of work. Baxter Park also has a very fine pavilion, currently used as a multi-purpose venue with a tiny daytime café. One of the marvellous aspects of the sandstone pavilion in Baxter Park, designed by Sir Joseph Paxton – a renowned architect and landscaper – is the grand rooftop balustrade. There is a fantastic view from there of the River Tay and the far bank of Fife. When the park was newly planted the view would have been much better than today. It’s still very good since the whole park site is ‘up-the-hill’ from the harbourside but today some of the original and very mature trees, and modern housing slightly obscure the views.

I couldn’t resist adding in a scene where Margaret meets some very handsome lads in my fictitious Baxton park. It didn’t feel authentic to give my Dundee mill family the genuine name of Baxter, but I chose something very close. My fictitious Mister Baxton is, in his own way, remotely instrumental in Margaret’s progress through her late teenage years and into her twenties. How?…Too many spoilers ruin the book (Shh.. I just made that up!)

Here’s the Blurb

An engrossing Victorian Scotland Saga (Silver Sampler Series Book 2)

Is self-supporting success enough for Margaret Law or will her future also include an adoring husband and children? She might secretly yearn for that though how can she avoid a repeat of relationship deceptions that disenchanted her so much during her teenage years?

Employment as a lady’s maid, and then as a private tutor in Liverpool in the 1860s bring thrilling opportunities Margaret could never have envisaged. Though when those posts end, her educational aspirations must be shelved again. Reliance on her sewing skills is paramount for survival when she returns to Dundee.

Meeting Sandy Watson means love, marriage and starting a family – though not necessarily in that order – are a striking development though it entails a move north to Peterhead. Yet, how can Margaret shed her fear of commitment and her independence and take the plunge?

Jessie, her sister-at-heart, is settled in Glasgow. Frequent letters are a life-line between them but when it all goes horribly wrong, the contents of Margaret’s correspondence don’t necessarily mirror her awful day-to-day realities.

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Meet the Author

Nancy Jardine writes historical adventure fiction, historical saga, time travel historical adventure and contemporary mysteries. Research, grandchildren, gardening fill up her day in the castle country of Aberdeenshire, Scotland, when not writing or promoting her writing. Interacting with readers is a joy at Book and Craft Fairs where she signs/sells paperback versions of her novels. She enjoys giving author presentations on her books and on Ancient Roman Scotland.

Memberships include: Historical Novel Society; Scottish Association of Writers, Federation of Writers Scotland, Romantic Novelists’ Association and the Alliance of Independent Authors. She’s self-published with Ocelot Press.