I am pleased to announce today's blog post. It is stop along the Secrets of Pembrooke Park by Julie Klassen blog tour, organized by lovely Laurel Ann Nattress of Austenprose.
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Award winning historical
romance author Julie Klassen tours the blogosphere February 16 through March 2
to share her latest release, The Secret
of Pembrooke Park. Twenty-five popular book bloggers specializing in
historical and Austenesque fiction will feature guest blogs, interviews, book
reviews and excerpts of this acclaimed gothic Regency romance novel. A fabulous
giveaway contest, including copies of all of Ms. Klassen’s eight books and other Jane Austen-themed items, is open
to those who join the festivities.
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EXCERPT (from Chapter Nine)
Abigail and Mr. Chapman rode home together in the gig.
Abigail was very aware of being alone with a man—a man she found increasingly
attractive. Though she wondered if she would have found him quite so attractive
had Gilbert not disappointed her.
It was late, but the moon shone brightly, and she could see
Mr. Chapman’s profile quite clearly. His straight nose, his firm, fair cheek.
The waves of auburn hair falling over his ear, and his long, sculpted
side-whiskers.
Perhaps sensing her scrutiny, he glanced over at her. “Did
you enjoy yourself?” he asked.
“I did. And you?”
“Yes. More than I dared hope.”
She wasn’t certain what he meant but wished he would keep
his eyes on the road so she could study him unobserved.
He turned the horse back toward Easton. As they passed
through the sleepy hamlet, he slowed the horse to a walking pace. Candles
flickered in the public house and a few other windows, but otherwise the street
was quiet, shops closed, people abed for the night.
Leaving the hamlet, he clicked the horse to a trot, but the
wheels hit a deep rut. The gig lurched and she swayed, knocking into his arm.
Instinctively, he slid the reins into one hand and threw his other around her
shoulders to steady her. “All right?”
She swallowed, self-conscious in his embrace. Self-conscious
about how much she liked the warm security of his arm around her, her side
pressed firmly to his. “Ye-yes. Fine.”
He removed his arm and she shivered, whether from his
nearness or the night air, she wasn’t certain.
“You’re cold,” he observed. He halted the horse right there
on the road and tied off the reins. He dug under the seat and pulled forth a
folded wool blanket.
“I’m fine, really,” she insisted. “I have my shawl.”
“You’re not fine. You’re shivering. You females and your
thin muslins. It’s a wonder you don’t all freeze to death.”
He draped the blanket around her and settled it on her
shoulders, his hands lingering. “Better?”
“Yes, except now I feel guilty that you are freezing.”
“Then sit close to me and I shan’t notice anything else.”
Her gaze flew to his—saw his crooked grin, the playful
sparkle in his eye. Sitting close as they were, their faces were very near. His
breath was warm and smelled of cinnamon. Or perhaps that was his cologne.
Whatever it was, it was spicy and masculine and made her want to lean nearer
yet.
The horse stamped his hoof impatiently, no doubt eager to
return to his stall and feed bucket.
She did not purposely move closer to him, but as the rock
and sway of the carriage brought them nearer together, their shoulders brushing
and occasionally their knees, she did not pull away, nor attempt to keep a
proper distance between them. She did not want him to freeze, after all, she
told herself, knowing all the while it was schoolgirl logic Louisa might have
used to justify flirting with a man, but at the moment, not caring. It was
dark, and they were alone, and dash it, it was cold. She liked the man, and she
trusted him enough to know he would not take advantage of any of those factors.
At least, not inappropriate advantage.
When they reached Pembrooke Park, Mr. Chapman tied off the
reins and alighted from the gig. Coming around, he reached up, but instead of
offering one hand to her, he lifted both. She hesitated, meeting his gaze with
brows raised in question.
In a low voice, he said, “May I?”
His gloved hands hovered near her waist. In reality, she
could have managed the step down with only a hand to assist her, but she
pressed her lips together and silently nodded.
He grasped her waist and gently lifted, lowering her easily
to the ground. For a moment longer, his hands remained, and he murmured, “You
do have a tiny waist.”
His hands felt large, strong, and sure. She swallowed
nervously. Uncomfortable standing there so close to him, yet in no hurry to
step away.
Behind him, the front door opened, and he released her.
Glancing over, she saw Duncan standing in the doorway, candle lamp in hand.
With a rueful smile, Mr. Chapman offered his arm. Abigail
placed her gloved hand on his sleeve and he tucked it into the crook of his
elbow. Together they walked to the house.
“You two were out late,” Duncan observed, his eyes narrowed.
In suspicion, or disapproval?
“The dinner party was quite a long affair,” Mr. Chapman
said, coming to her defense.
Abigail added, “I didn’t realize we would be back quite so
late. Thank you for waiting up.”
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Book blurb:
In the spring of 1818,
twenty-four-year-old Abigail Foster fears she is destined to become a spinster.
Her family’s finances are in ruins and the one young man she truly esteems has
fallen for another woman — her younger, prettier sister Louisa.
Forced to retrench after the
bank failure of Austen, Gray & Vincent, the Foster family optimistically
pool their resources for another London Season for her sister in hopes of an
advantageous alliance. While searching for more affordable lodgings, a
surprising offer is presented: the use of a country manor house in Berkshire
abandoned for eighteen years. The Fosters journey to the imposing Pembrooke
Park and are startled to find it entombed as it was abruptly left, the
tight-lipped locals offering only rumors of a secret room, hidden treasure and
a murder in its mysterious past.
Eager to restore her family
fortune, Abigail, with the help of the handsome local curate William Chapman
and his sister Leah, begins her search into the heavily veiled past aided by
unsigned journal pages from a previous resident and her own spirited
determination. As old friends and new foes come calling at Pembrooke Park,
secrets come to light. Will Abigail find the treasure and love she seeks...or
very real danger?
About the author:
Julie Klassen loves all
things Jane—Jane Eyre and Jane Austen. A graduate of the University of
Illinois, Julie worked in publishing for sixteen years and now writes full
time. Three of her books have won the Christy Award for Historical Romance. She
has also been a finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Awards. Julie
and her husband have two sons and live in St. Paul, Minnesota.
Connect with Julie Klassen
Read It Now!
***GIVEAWAY TIME***
Grand Giveaway Contest
Win One of Four
Fabulous Prizes
In
celebration of the release of The Secret of Pembrooke Park, four chances to win
copies of Julie’s books and other Jane Austen-inspired items are being offered.
Three lucky
winners will receive one trade paperback or eBook copy of The Secret of
Pembrooke Park, and one grand prize winner will receive one copy of all eight
of Julie’s novels: Lady of Milkweed Manor, The Apothecary's Daughter, The
Silent Governess, The Girl in the Gatehouse, The Maid of Fairbourne Hall, The
Tutor’s Daughter, The Dancing Master, and The Secret of Pembrooke Park, one DVD
of Northanger Abbey (2007) and a Jane Austen Action Figure.
To enter
the giveaway contest, simply leave a comment on any or all of the blog stops on
The Secret of Pembrooke Park Blog Tour starting February 16, 2015 through 11:59
pm PT, March 9, 2015. Winners will be drawn at random from all of the comments
and announced on Julie Klassen’s website on March 16, 2015. Winners have until
March 22, 2015 to claim their prize. The giveaway contest is open to residents
of the US, UK, and Canada. Digital books will be sent through Amazon or Barnes
& Noble. Good luck to all!
