On Friday, I signed off my short story, Wooing Miss Woodforde and sent it to the publisher. It’s only the second time I’ve sent off a complete piece of work ready to be published and, again, I experienced contradictory feelings of excitement and dread.
I need to get a grip on the dread aspect. I must remember that my work will not please everyone, and I suppose the more I do this, the more I’ll accept that truth. At least this is helping me to build my experience before I publish a complete novel.
By the way, I’ve been in touch with my publisher regarding progress on publishing my late Georgian romance series, Men of Trade. Once she has the manuscript for the last book, The Radical Heiress, it will be all go. I just need to get the story finished. The Radical Heiress has been the problem child book of the series, but now I’ve finished the short story I can focus on getting it done.
Now that update is out of the way, I’m pleased to reveal the blurb for Wooing Miss Woodforde, which will be part of the Tea with Austen anthology, out on 28th August 2024. Enjoy the blurb and a little teaser, and don’t forget to add it to your Goodreads TBR list and pre-order your copy today!
Wooing Miss Woodforde Blurb
Jasper Trevethan loves Miss Sophie Woodforde, but he is a good-for-nought, penniless rake. Kind, loyal and socially conscious Sophie would never marry him, even if he were rich.
As an impoverished companion, Sophie serves the whims of others while pining for her employer’s scandalous and devilishly charming nephew, Mr Trevethan.
When an unexpected inheritance transforms Sophie’s life, she becomes the target of every fortune hunter in town. But Sophie would rather become an old maid than marry a man who only wants her for her money, especially Mr Trevethan.
Jasper must act before another scoundrel steals his love, but Sophie deserves more than a husband who has wasted his life as an idle pleasure-seeker. To secure Sophie’s heart and hand in marriage, Jasper is determined to prove his devotion and woo Miss Woodforde.
Excerpt
Jasper Trevethan surveyed the dining table laden with an abundant number of platters, despite there only being three people present.
The flickering light from the countless candles in the gilded candelabra shimmered, catching the highlights in Miss Woodforde’s golden hair.
Miss Woodforde—Sophie to his heart—darted a surreptitious glance towards his aunt, who sat at the head of the linen-covered table, before she nabbed a slither of sliced beef from her plate. Her hand disappeared below the tabletop.
He chuckled inwardly. That bug-eyed creature his aunt claimed to be a dog must be the best-fed pet in London. Sophie usually refrained from feeding the diminutive master of the house until she had finished her meal, yet her plate still brimmed with sliced beef and vegetables.
Something was wrong. “Forgive me, Miss Woodforde, but you seem a little out of sorts.”
“I am well, Mr Trevethan,” she replied, before nudging a carrot around her plate.
If she was well, he was Croesus. In the dim light, her dark eyes appeared sunken, and lines bracketed the firm set of her mouth. Those lush lips usually reserved a gentle smile for him, even if reluctantly given.
Was she ill? He tamped down the desire to march around the table and insist she take to her bed. How many times had he seen her neglect her needs to serve those of his aunt? Her sense of duty often overrode common sense.
His fingers tightened around his cutlery. The intricate carving on the silverware dug into his palms. Do not be ridiculous! Sophie had no one to take care of her, but he had no right to do so. No matter how much he longed to be the one who could.
She is not for you. He brushed aside his niggling conscience. She would never have him. Besides, he had nothing to offer her but his heart, and that organ could not pay the bills. After years of serving his bossy aunt, Sophie deserved to be cosseted.
He produced his impish grin, which had lured many a female into his bed. Except her, of course, the only woman he ached to have.
“We have endured enough of your devilish charms for one evening.” Aunt Hammond signalled the footmen to remove their plates.
He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin, then said, “My dinners with the most beautiful ladies in London are the highlight of my week, madam. How can I resist the temptation when in such dazzling company?”
“Reserve it for the simpering debutantes.” Aunt Hammond sipped at the deep red liquid in her glass. The crystal glinted in the orange glow of the candelabra. “We all know you only visit me to win my favour and secure my fortune once I am gone.”
Heat clawed up his neck. It may be true, but did the woman have to remind him, and Sophie, of his poverty-stricken circumstances?
Tea with Austen
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any hot-blooded reader must be in need of a hero in a wet white shirt…
Grab your fans and parasols and join our party of Austen-inspired ladies and gentlemen for tea, scones, and the latest on-dit, in this collection with part of the proceeds going to Breast Cancer Research.
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