New cover for To Gain What's Lost

I just wanted to show off my new cover for my Victorian historical novel, To Gain What's Lost.

The previous cover for the book wasn't suitable and I made the decision to change it and I'm so glad I did. 

JB Graphics did a wonderful job in creating me a cover that suited the book so much better.

It takes a while for all the book stores to change over to the new cover, and it is disruptive to sales, but I feel it is worth the effort and expense.

To Gain What's Lost is available in ebook and paperback.

The ebook is only 99p - a real bargain!

Amazon UK https://goo.gl/X152tU  

Amazon Aust https://goo.gl/UYxwlZ

Cover Reveal! Where Dragonflies Hover

My latest release, Where Dragonflies Hover, is a contemporary story that also features a WWI story, when Lexi, the main character finds a diary written by a wartime nurse.

Where Dragonflies Hover blurb:

Sometimes a glimpse into the past can help make sense of the future …

Everyone thinks Lexi is crazy when she falls in love with Hollingsworth House – a crumbling old Georgian mansion in Yorkshire – and nobody more so than her husband, Dylan. But there’s something very special about the place, and Lexi can sense it. 

Whilst exploring the grounds she stumbles across an old diary and, within its pages, she meets Allie – an Australian nurse working in France during the First World War.

Lexi finally realises her dream of buying Hollingsworth but her obsession with the house leaves her marriage in tatters. In the lonely nights that follow, Allie’s diary becomes Lexi’s companion, comforting her in moments of darkness and pain. And as Lexi reads, the nurse’s scandalous connection to the house is revealed …

 

Excerpt:

The late sunshine enveloped the house in a golden glow. Again, it seemed to call to her, begging for attention. A path on the left of the drive looked inviting as it meandered through a small strand of poplars. Lexi grabbed her keys, locked the car and took off to explore again. She had nothing to rush home to now, and if she got caught for trespassing, then so be it.

The overgrown pathway brought her out on the far side of the grounds near the end of a small lake. She gazed over the water towards the back of the house and noticed a paved terrace area. From there the lawn then sloped down to the water. She’d not been around the back before and fell even more in love with the property. She could imagine the serenity of sipping a cool drink on a hot summer’s day and looking out over the lake.

Lexi stepped out along the bank. A lone duck swam by, its movement serene on the glassy, dark surface. This side of the lake was in shadow from large pine trees, and she stumbled on fallen pinecones hidden in the long grass. On the opposite side of the water were some small buildings, a garage, fruit trees in early blossom, and an overgrown vegetable patch, complete with a broken, rejected-looking scarecrow.

She wandered over to a narrow shed on her left and peered through its sole, dirty window. Unable to make out much in the dimness, she walked around to the front and was surprised when she was able to pull the bolt back on the door. Why didn’t people lock things? A covered rowboat took up most of the space inside. She smiled, seeing herself rowing it on the lake. Growing more excited, Lexi edged around it to peer at the workbenches and the odd assortment of tools and useless things one found in abandoned sheds. It was like treasure hunting in an antique shop. She used to love doing that with her grandfather.

She glanced about and spied a dusty painting leaning against the wall. The scene was of a child and a brown dog. Behind the canvas were more paintings, some framed, some not. Lexi flicked through them. The ones that caught her attention she took out and set aside.

She looked for somewhere to sit and study the paintings. A small tin trunk wedged under a workbench seemed the only offering. Thinking it empty, she went to tug it out, but it remained fast.

Using both hands, she heaved it out and was showered in a puff of dust. Squatting down, she inspected the latch that was held tight with a small lock. ‘Why are you locked?’ she murmured. The shed was open to anyone passing by, yet this ugly little chest had a lock on it. The trunk was nothing special, plain and in parts rusted. No ornament or writing hinted at its use.

Intrigued, she grabbed a hammer from the workbench, but then hesitated. She had no right to open someone else’s property. Lexi closed her eyes momentarily. What was she thinking of breaking into the trunk? What am I doing? Never had she broken the law and here she was guilty of trespassing and breaking and entering! She looked around the rowboat as though expecting someone to jump out and arrest her.

Something inside urged her on. She knew she couldn’t stop now. Sucking in a deep breath, she bent and hit the lock hard. The ringing sound was loud in the quiet serenity of the garden. The metal dented and with another few solid whacks the lock gave.

Shivers of excitement tingled along her skin. Gently, she eased up the lid.

Buy links:

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

Also available in Apple ibooks, etc.

A Noble Place - Australian historical novel.

Sharing an excerpt of my Australian historical.

Blurb

Australia 1850. Phillippa Noble, strong minded, spirited and adventurous, urges and encourages her parents and her twin to emigrate to the distant land of Australia to begin again. In a new country they can put their tainted past behind them, and Pippa can forget the unrequited love she felt for a distant cousin. Pippa blossoms in the new country and is determined that their horse stud will be the finest in the land. However, circumstances ensure that not all is golden. For every success, she has to bear up under the challenges of bushfire, death, the return of an old love and danger on the goldfields. Her strength is tested as she tries to find the right path to happiness, but it is the near loss of her dearest friend that makes her realise true contentment rests within her grasp and she must not let it go.

EXCERPT

The sharp scent of eucalyptus permeated the air and Pippa sniffed deeply, wondrously. At intervals, trees thick with blooms of yellow, which she knew to be called wattles, punctuated the grey-green landscape and gum trees let their little blooms of red dance in the breeze. She jerked suddenly as a low branch jagged at her skirt. Her father helped to extricate the material and when her petticoat’s lace hem tore, she cared little. Nothing and no one could spoil this day. Gerald grimaced at the ruined fabric. ‘You should not have come, my dear.’

‘Nonsense, Father.’ Pippa grinned. ‘A little hardship strengthens character.’

'Mr Noble.’ Robson gestured to a large eucalyptus trunk. The surveyor’s initials were cut deep into the bark.

Gerald consulted his maps. ‘This ridge ends another ten yards further on.’

Pippa hurried the remaining distance, nearly tripping in her haste. She stepped beyond a large tree and stopped. Below, bathed in golden glory, lay their valley. Tingles of excitement mixed with reverent joy sucked her breath away. She scanned the horizon of rugged hills and then gazed down at the inviting valley. It was everything she’d dreamed of and more because it was real. ‘It’s perfect.’

‘How in God’s name are we to get down there with the wagon?’ Robson mumbled, breaking her spell of wonder. He walked closer to the edge and peered down at the jagged outcrops of rocks and boulders that broke up the density of the trees.

Gerald took off his hat and wiped his sweating forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Maybe further along there is an easier route down.’

They walked on for another hundred yards before finding another tree with the surveyor’s initials marked in it and also an arrow scratched next to them. Robson pointed to a gentler slope and a roughly cut track snaking through the trees and scrub. ‘If the surveyor went down there, then that must be the easiest way.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder if he took transports.’

‘Likely packhorses.’ Gerald studied his maps again.

Pippa walked to the edge of the slope. She paused to gauge the steepness and then reached for a nearby sapling to keep her steady as she edged her way down.

‘Pippa!’

Her father’s shout made her stop and glance back. ‘It’s all right, Father. Hold on to the trees.’ Robson and Gerald hurried towards her and gingerly made their way down to her side. Gerald gripped her arm. ‘You are too headstrong. It was a foolish thing to do.’

She tossed her head. ‘I wasn’t going to be left behind.’

‘You’ll be the death of me, girl,’ Gerald panted and wiped his forehead again.

As they concentrated on getting safely to the bottom, the sounds of the bush intensified. An unseen bird made the sound of a whiplash cutting the air, flies buzzed, twigs snapped underfoot and small lizards slithered over rocks.

The track brought them out on the left side of the valley. At the bottom, the trees and scrub thinned out to grassy plains. Emerging out of the shade, the heat intensified. Pippa wished she had brought her parasol with her, but had left it in the gig so she could hold her skirts up with both hands. Sweat trickled inside her collar and dampened her bonnet. She licked her dry lips. ‘Is there water close by?’

‘Here, miss, I have water with me.’ Robson handed her a leather-bound canteen.

‘Thank you.’ She stopped to drink and chuckled as the cool and pleasant water trickled down her chin. Drinking from a canteen was an art she had not yet mastered.

‘Do you see that thin line of gum trees in the middle over there?’ Robson pointed in front of them.

Pippa studied the ragged thin line and nodded.

‘Those trees edge the creek bank.’ He turned to Gerald. ‘Do you see that flat rise to the right of the creek bend, Mr Noble?’

‘Aye, lad, I do.’

Robson smiled. ‘I think it would make an ideal homestead site.’

Gerald slapped Robson on the shoulder. ‘I think you may be right, my man.’

Pippa hesitated as the two men walked on. She slowly turned a full circle, taking in the broad sweep of the valley. Acres of waist-high brown grass rippled in the infinite breeze like a long slow wave on a lazy sea. She strolled on, enjoying the feeling of walking on her own land. She now understood the power it gave men and why they did almost anything to acquire property. They broke their backs trying to keep it viable in the hard times and, in good times, they looked to buy more.

The intensity of her feelings was frightening. Her land. Her future.

Buy from Amazon UK, your local library
or from The Book Depository (worldwide free delivery)
http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/WEBSITE/WWW/WEBPAGES/showbook.php?id=0709083653

Woodland Daughter excerpt!

Woodland Daughter is my historical novel set in North Yorkshire England in 1902 (it also includes touches of Africa).

Blurb
A new century brings change to the carefully ordered world Eden Harris maintains — change that threatens all she holds dear.
Despite years of devoted service to the Bradburys, the leading family of the community, Eden hides a secret that would affect them all, a secret shared only with her husband, Nathan and grandfather. Then an enemy returns, shattering her world and exposing her secret.
Torn and provoked, she strains to protect her family until a devastating accident robs her of Nathan, and she is alone and frightened. As the threat against her grows, Eden takes her precious daughters and flees from the country estate and the cottage she’s called home, to live amongst masses in York.
Her attempt to start anew is not so simple as the past haunts her, and the one man she thought lost to her so many years before, returns to claim what has always been his. Eden must gather her strength and look into her heart to accept what the future offers.





Excerpt.


Joel rested his body against the ship’s rail, bracing himself for the slightest pain in his shoulder. With one arm in a sling tucked beneath his uniform jacket, he was careful to keep out of the way of people. The slightest touch could have him sweating in pain. The sea breeze lifted the hair on his forehead and neck, cooling him slightly. He needed a haircut, but he’d wait until he’d reach England before attending to that.
Below him on the deck, he watched the crowds scurrying about like ants. Soldiers, nurses, travellers, ship crew, dock workers all hurried back and forth. Behind him, from within the ship, came the noise of eager travellers settling in for their ocean journey.
He stared out into the distance, where Table Mountain dominated the view. He was sad to be leaving Africa. He’d come to think of it as home in a way. The sights and sounds, the heat and people were familiar now. Of course nothing competed against Bradbury Hall, but he’d been in Africa for seven years. It was a long time. The army had replaced his family. He’d learnt to rely on his fellow officers to ease the loneliness, and at first it had worked well. The adventure and excitement kept his mind from thinking of home. But lately, for the last year and a half, a yearning to return home had claimed him and not let go.
The ships funnels belched smoke and the boarding siren wailed. Under his feet he felt the deck shudder as the enormous engines surged with power. Anticipation welled. He was going home. Despite the ache in his shoulder, he smiled. Time to start a new phase of his life. Time to reaffirm the links with his family, the estate, old friends, and… Eden.
He was conscious of the changes awaiting him back home. Much had happened in his absence. Not long after he joined the regiment, his mother died. That had been a blow, but on the whole he had managed to keep the family and home intact in his mind. When he’d left England, his father had been alive, Charlie well, Annabella cheeky, pretty, naive and Eden… Eden had been beautiful, a free spirit of the woodland where she lived.
What awaited him now?
The ship eased from its berth and glided out into the harbour. The breeze sharpened and Joel turned away from the rail. He glanced at a crippled solider standing near the door leading into one of the saloons. The soldier swayed on his crutches, one leg gone in battle.
“Major Bradbury?”
Joel checked his step and hurried over to steady the man with his good arm.
“Thanks, Sir.” The solider smiled.
“Stevens, isn’t it?” Joel mused, helping the man to lean against a wall and out of the way of other passengers.
“Stevenson, Sir, Corporal Dave Stevenson.” He leaned against the support and breathed out slowly. “I still haven’t got the hang of these things yet.” He held up the crutches.
Joel grinned. “I think it might be an art that takes practice, Corporal.”
Dave took of his hat and wiped the seat off from his forehead, his fair hair stuck to his head. “Do you mind, Sir, if I sit down? This leg isn’t used to holding all the weight and gets a bit shaky, like.”
“Of course, man, sit.” Joel again aided Stevenson in lowering to the deck. There were no chairs about and after a moment’s hesitation, Joel join him and gently eased his backside down, careful not to jar his shoulder. “We should have gone inside, it would be more comfortable.”
“Sorry, Sir, but I’m no sailor. Once inside my stomach has a mind of its own. I’m better out here.”
“Well, I’ll keep you company for a while until dinner is announced. My stomach is the opposite of yours. Once on the ocean I’m always ravenous. I do nothing but eat.”
“You might struggle with a knife and fork, using only one hand.”
Joel chuckled. “Yes, true. So far I’ve had only soup and sandwiches.”
Stevenson laid his crutches beside his good leg and gazed out through the iron rail. “So, we’re going back home to England. I’ve been away three years. I should be happy to be going back, but I’m not as excited as I should be, I don’t think.”
“It affects men in different ways.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, how do you feel? Was your clipped wing the reason for you to go home?”
“Yes. My shoulder stopped a bullet.” He glanced down at his padded and bandaged left shoulder. “Normally they’d take it out and I’d be back in the mix of things, but this Boer bullet went in at an angle and wedge itself deep. The surgeon managed to get it out, but he wasn’t sure what damaged had been done. Only once the swelling has gone down and the soreness gone, will I know what strength remains in the arm.”
“Does your family know about it yet?”
“No, not yet. It didn’t seem worth writing when I was going home anyway. What about your family?”
“Oh aye, they know. I’ve been in hospital a while, long enough for letters to go back and forth.” Stevenson bent up his leg and rested his elbow on it. “They say they don’t care if I come home missing a leg, as long as I’m coming home to them. I’m an only child see, and I used to help my father run our grocers shop.”
“Will you do that again?”
“I guess so. Funny how things change, isn’t it. I hated working in that shop as a lad. All my friends would be out playing football or cricket and I’d be stuck behind a counter. The first opportunity I got to leave I took, and that was the army.” He tapped the toe of his boot on the deck. “Now, I can’t wait to get back there. I miss me mam and dad, and me gran, who lives with us. My mam makes the best jam roly-poly you’ve ever tasted. Dad brews his own beer in the back shed and Gran used to be my partner in cards.”
“There’s nothing better in this world than returning home to a family that loves you.” A picture came into Joel’s mind of the estate in autumn, the tall graceful trees, their leaves turning gold and amber, the squirrels scurrying around in the wood, collecting the last of their booty, harvest time and bringing in the hay, the smell of open fires as the gardeners raked up and burnt the fallen leaves.
He leaned his head back and smiled in remembrance. “I long to go riding with my brother. We used to ride for miles. Sometimes we’d stop at a pub and have an ale and a hot pie smothered in gravy.”
“Me mam has written of a neighbour’s daughter, Vera, who she hopes I’ll one day marry. I’m not so sure what Vera has to say about it though. We got along all right before I went away, but…well, I’m not as I once was.”
“If this Vera is a decent woman, she’ll not mind.”
“Maybe.” Stevenson lifted his face to the breeze. “Will you have a girl waiting for you at home, Sir?”
Joel’s stomach clenched. “Perhaps. I’m ready for a family. However, I’ve been away longer than you, and I’m not sure what to expect when I arrive home.”
“None of us are, Sir, none of us are.”
A group of children ran by, the shoes thundering on the timber deck. One cheeky boy paused and waved to Joel and Stevenson before scampering off again. A harassed nanny tried to catch up as she wheeled a pram after them. Joel watched until they turned a corner at the bow of the ship and were out of sight. His heart constricted, thinking of the boy’s lively face. A son. He wanted a son so badly it hurt. A boy to teach all the things his father taught him, to hunt, to fish, to ride, to play sports. He thought of Charlie. Two sons perhaps. Two fine boys to grow up together like he and Charlie did.
Emotion clogged his throat and he coughed to clear it. He’d been away from home too long…





Woodland Daughter is available from Amazon UK and also from The Book Depository, which has free delivery around the world!

Broken Hero excerpt

Broken Hero is my historical romance set in England during World War II.

Blurb
Audrey Pearson’s life changed dramatically when WWII broke out and her large home, Twelve Pines on the East Yorkshire coast, became a convalescence home for wounded soldiers. Her life is no longer lavish with entertainment, beautiful clothes and surrounded by a loving family. Soldiers, physically and mentally wounded now fill her home. The smell of disinfectant replaces her mother’s perfume and gone are the friends and acquaintances - instead nurses roam the hallways.
Captain Jake Harding, a doctor training in psychiatry arrives at Twelve Pines. Audrey immediately finds herself attracted to the Captain, but he is remote towards her. Puzzled by his cold behaviour, Audrey tries to learn more about the handsome Captain. He reveals that he’s lost a wife and baby in childbirth and refuses to ever remarry. However, despite this, Audrey believes she can change his mind and make him aware he doesn’t have to spend his life alone.
The ice around Jake’s heart begins to melt. For years he has rejected the possibility of finding love again because of the pain it caused him before, but the beautiful Audrey shows him her love and she needs someone to love her in return.
Could he honestly walk away from her, from the love that could be his?

Excerpt
From downstairs they heard the commotion of the emptying cellar.
“I’d better check that everyone is all right,” Jake said, but didn’t move. He reached out and took one of her hands. “We need to talk I think.”
“We do?” She tried to pretend she didn’t know his meaning. From his sad expression, she knew it wouldn’t be a talk she’d want to have. He was regretting his actions already. Well, she wasn’t ashamed. She knew she loved him.
“Audrey, I can’t be what you want.”
Her chest squeezed, but she raised her chin in challenge. “You haven’t tried, so how do you know?”
“You want a good man to love you. You deserve a man’s love, the right man for you.”
“And what if you are the right man for me?”
“I’m not. You mustn’t think I am.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You’re young and beautiful, there’s many a man who’d love you—”
“Don’t patronise me.” She tossed her head, angered by his attempts to brush her aside again.
“I’m not, honestly. You’re wonderful, and I wish I could be the man you need.”
“But you are! If you just allow yourself to be.” She reached out for him, only he backed away, shaking his head.
“I won’t. Audrey. I’ll never marry again. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t cope with the responsibility of loving someone again, of the possible pain…”
“But I love you.” There, she had said the words.
He looked appalled. “You can’t.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel.”
“You don’t know what love is!”
“I’m speaking from the heart, Jake. I’m not one of those girls who plays with men’s feelings. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else before.”
He backed away, shaking his head, his eyes haunted. “No. I won’t do this.”
“What we shared in my bedroom was special. It was meant. You can’t deny that.”
Jake gave a mocking laugh. “It was a kiss, Audrey. A simple kiss that men and women share in times of need. It leads to sex. You don’t have to be in love to have sex.”
“No. I won’t listen to you.”
“It’s true. Don’t make it out to be more than it was.”
“Why are you so certain that it meant nothing?”
“Because I know the difference.”
She felt sick. “So you wanted s-sex? Just any woman would do…”
He wiped a hand over his tormented face. “No, I didn’t mean…Damn, this isn’t what I meant to say. Listen to me—”
“I won’t listen to you, not until you really know what you’re saying. Not until you really know what you want.”
“I don’t want love, Audrey.”
Emotion clogged her throat. “Are-Are you saying you can never love me or any woman ever again?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why?” she croaked. Lord, could there be a pain any worse than this?
“I don’t want to love another woman again, not ever.” He closed his eyes momentarily. “I wanted to die after Marianne, I nearly did. I can’t do it again, Audrey, I can’t suffer such…such anguish as that again…”
People were coming up the stairs and their chatter filtering up, drove Jake away. With a last glance at her, his eyes sending his apology, he went to meet the others and resume his role of doctor and caretaker of their reason.
But what of your reason, Jake? Audrey inwardly cried. Who will save you from your self-imposed loneliness?

Buy Broken Hero from Amazon (Barnes & Noble, Fictionwise, etc)
http://www.amazon.com/Broken-Hero-Anne-Whitfield/dp/1601542267/ref=ed_oe_p

Kitty McKenzie excerpt

Here is an excerpt of my Victorian historical, Kitty McKenzie, which is York, England.

Blurb
1864 - Suddenly left as the head of the family, Kitty McKenzie must find her inner strength to keep her family together against the odds. Evicted from their resplendent home in the fashionable part of York after her parents’ deaths, Kitty must fight the legacy of bankruptcy and homelessness to secure a home for her and her siblings. Through sheer willpower and determination she grabs opportunities with both hands from working on a clothes and rag stall in the market to creating a teashop for the wealthy. Her road to happiness is fraught with obstacles of hardship and despair, but she refuses to let her dream of a better life for her family die. She soon learns that love and loyalty brings its own reward.

Excerpt.

Kitty caught her breath at the magnificence of Kingsley Manor. In comparison, her old home, although large, looked like a poor cousin. When they arrived, Benjamin’s parents were out visiting after Sunday morning church service. Alone, Benjamin gave her a private tour of the house. In each superbly decorated room, he stopped and kissed both her hands until it became a game and their laughter echoed throughout the house.
However, Kitty’s first impression of the beautiful Georgina Kingsley chilled her. The woman wore a frozen expression of horror on her face the moment she looked at Kitty. Distressed, Kitty lowered her gaze and fumbled with her black skirts. She wore the best clothes she owned, her black skirts and cream blouse, but her crinoline was bought from the market and her black lace gloves possessed the glassy shine of frequently washed clothing.
After introductions, Benjamin’s father, John, took Kitty’s hand and led her into the conservatory. A maid waited by a table laden with a silver tea service and silver stands filled with dainty little cakes and sandwiches.
“So, Miss McKenzie, Ben informs us you have started a business?”
“Indeed I have, Mr. Kingsley, tearooms.” Her lips thinned into a tight smile.
They were all aware of Georgina’s intake of breath.
“It is a rare thing, a young woman going into business by herself. It must have been quite a decision to make.” John Kingsley’s gaze didn’t waver as he looked at her.
“Upon my parents’ deaths we were left with vast debts that took everything we owned to pay off. For my siblings and myself to survive, I needed to acquire a living for us all.”
Georgina put down her teacup and saucer. Her cold, blue eyes narrowed. “Surely there are relatives who could have helped…your…er…situation?”
“I’m afraid we don’t have a large quantity of relatives. No one offered to help us. There was very little we could do, but sell everything.” Such intimate talk of her family unnerved her. She wished the conversation would turn to a much lighter subject.
“Did you not find that odd, your relatives turning away from you?”
“I hardly think that distant relatives, whom we rarely saw, should have to alter their lives to suit us.” Kitty hated the woman for making her defend the people who ignored her pleas for help.
“And how many are there of you, Miss McKenzie?” Georgina raised an eyebrow. She wore her disgust like a cloak.
“I’m the eldest of seven, Mrs. Kingsley.”
“My, my, so many of you. So, where do you live now?” Georgina flicked an imaginary speck of dust from her beautiful, gray, raw silk dress with its crinoline so wide they had to move the chairs to accommodate it.
“We are to live above the tearooms, Mrs. Kingsley.” She felt like a noose hung around her neck and with each look and question from Georgina Kingsley the knot tightened.
“How extraordinary. To live above one’s own shop.” Georgina didn’t hide the foul look she directed at her son.
He turned away to smile at Kitty. “Of course, it will only be temporary, until I return from the colony. Then we shall be married.”
Georgina paled and her hand shook as she reached for her teacup and saucer. Kitty wasn’t sure whether it was due to shock or anger.
John Kingsley stood and held out his arm for Kitty. “Come, Miss McKenzie, let me show you the gardens and my fine hunters. They are the best in York I assure you.”
When John and Kitty exited the conservatory, Ben stood abruptly and faced his mother. “How dare you,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his whole body rigid with anger.
Unperturbed, Georgina sat quietly drinking her tea. “How dare I?” she asked with laced sarcasm. “My dear, I don’t know what is troubling you.”
“Why must you behave in such a way? She is going to be your daughter-in-law. It wouldn’t have hurt too much for you to be kind to her and make her feel at ease. Instead of treating her like she was something a cat dragged in!” Ben’s chest heaved.
“She is not one of us, my dear. Your union would be a most drastic mistake.” Calmly, Georgina leaned over and selected a small tart from the cake stand.
“That is where you are wrong, Mother! She is one of us. Her father was a doctor, her mother a lady. They lived well and entertained many of the people you do.”
“No, my dear. They were never one of us, for we wouldn’t have let our children be thrown onto the streets upon our deaths.” Georgina contentedly nibbled her tart, secure in the knowledge of her own wisdom.
“Bankruptcy can touch anyone, Mother, even the Kingsleys.”
“Benjamin, you do realize I recall the McKenzies, especially the wife? I cannot recall her name, however.” Georgina’s wave was dismissive. “I was introduced to her some years ago at a party. And let me inform you, she was one of the most vulgar women I have yet to meet. She was loud and dreadfully flirtatious. She was attractive, I’ll acknowledge that, but she was no lady.”
“I don’t care a jot, Mother. It is Kitty, not her parents, who I shall be marrying.”
“Then you are a fool and you will be ruined because of it.” Georgina glared.

Kitty McKenzie paperback from Amazon.com http://tinyurl.com/rced5
Kitty McKenzie's Land (sequel) paperback http://tinyurl.com/t4vpb

Sense & Sensibility?

What is it about Jane Austen that she can write such great books which are still giving people pleasure nearly two hundred years later? She really is the queen of dare I say it, family sagas! LOL
When most readers think of sagas I feel they define them by Catherine Cookson type novels, I know I did for many years because that's virtually all I read. (total bliss)
However, after watching Emma Thompson's adaptation of Sense & Sensibility for the hundredth time, I realised that before the late great, Catherine Cookson, we had George Elliot and the like, and before that we had the wonderful Jane Austen. Now who came before her?
Did she start the trend of family set novels?
Is she the one who makes us want to read the pitfalls, the tragedies, the love and dreams of whole families?
Most sagas have a central heroine, yet supporting that character is a host of others, who we learn about, and like or hate them, they end up becoming just as important as the heroine. To me, that is the true mark of a family saga of any era or setting.
It also reaffirms my love of the whole saga concept and it also teaches me something about my own reading tastes.
I realise that I don't read a lot of books that are centered just on the heroine alone with perhaps a small focus on the hero. Going through my personal library I've discovered that all my favourite fiction books, whether they are historical or contemporary, have plots that encompass more then just the heroine.
Am I just nosy, wanting to know about everyone, or easily bored by one person?
Interesting....