Blog Tour + Giveaway: Daring Duplicity (The Wellington Mysteries Vol. 1) by Edale Lane

Welcome author Edale Lane and Other Worlds Ink as they make a tour stop for, Daring Duplicity (The Wellington Mysteries Vol. 1)! Read more and enter in the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Edale Lane has a new FF historical steampunk book out: Daring Duplicity. And there's a giveaway!

Solving mysteries is her business. Finding love is her dream. Will combining the two get her killed?

Victorian Era England. Stetson revels in being unconventional. So when society shies away from her independent nature, the bold woman creates an imaginary boss and opens her own detective agency. And her keen observational skills, convincing disguises, and Holmesian methods quickly bring in a string of tough-to-crack cases.

Struggling to squeeze a personal life in around a series of hazardous investigations, Stetson worries she'll never find a woman of like-passions. But with her heart set on true love despite the risk, she carries on hunting for the perfect relationship.

Will her clever escapades lead to death… or delight?

Daring Duplicity: The Wellington Mysteries, Vol. 1, Adventures of a Lesbian Victorian Detective is a collection of five sequential novellas, each encompassing its own exciting mystery while furthering the story of Stetson’s life in London. If you enjoy crime dramas, Victorian era fiction, or a sweet lesbian romance, then you’ll love award-winning author Edale Lane’s Daring Duplicity. Order yours today!

Amazon | Goodreads

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Giveaway

Edale is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47227/?

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Excerpt

Jewel gripped her own gloved hands and scanned the room anxiously. "It is a matter of the utmost discretion," she began in a tone much more demanding than she had intended. "It is of a personal nature, you see," she continued more gently and forced a polite smile. "May I speak with Mr. Wellington in private?"

Miss Goody responded with a pleasant smile of her own. "I'm afraid that will not be possible. Mr. X is extremely successful in foiling criminals because of his anonymity. In fact, no one has ever seen him but me. All correspondence between the investigator and the clients goes through his assistant—me. So how this works is, you tell me the specifics, I talk to him, and he gives me a list of questions to ask, and so forth. I assure you, anything you say to me will be kept in the strictest of confidence, just as if you were conversing with the detective himself."

"I see." The assistant paused for a moment before continuing and her attention fell on Miss Goody for the first time, being specifically drawn to ample breasts squeezed into her buttoned waist coat. It required conscious effort for Jewel to raise her gaze, but doing so she became captivated by two warm, caring cognac eyes. "Very well, then. I am being blackmailed, and the nature of the information being held over me makes it impossible to go to Scotland Yard, or a constable, or even my father, for the money. I receive an allowance, not enough to meet the foul villain's demands, but sufficient to cover your agency's fees and expenses I'm sure."

"I see," she replied with a soft expression of compassion. "Was the man you were seen with married, or simply from the wrong side of the tracks?"

"Well," Jewel stammered, cleared her throat, and fixed her gaze on a painting on the wall. "Not exactly. And he has a photograph."

Miss Goody sighed and leaned forward, her palms on the desk top. "Now, Lady Jewel Ashton, if we are to find this blackmailer and save your reputation, you cannot hold anything back. How can Mr. Wellington help you if you won't tell us the whole story?"

"It is not my reputation I am concerned with," she admitted, a hint of real fear trembling in her voice. "My whole family could be ruined, utterly ruined, and destroy my father's political career. We would be forced to retreat to our estate in the countryside. I cannot allow shame to come upon my family for one moment's indiscretion."

Miss Goody met her eyes. "I assure you if you provide Mr. X all the information he needs, he can find this scoundrel, take back the photo and the plates, and give him every reason to keep his deceitful mouth closed on the matter."

Jewel held her gaze for a long moment, and believing her sincerity, made a decision—the only one she could really make. She opened her reticule and withdrew a tan envelope. "Someone left this in my carriage while I was shopping. My driver said he didn't see or hear a thing." She placed the parcel on the desk within Miss Goody's reach and held her breath.

#

Stetson opened the envelope and spilled its contents out onto the desk. Inside was a note and a photograph, not of Jewel kissing a married man, but another young woman! For an instant, time stood still. A flush rose in Jewel's cheeks while Stetson's mouth absently fell agape as she stared dumbfounded at the image. Stetson's mind raced almost as fast as her heart. Could it be that this beautiful gem who walked in this morning has the same inclination as myself? Could there actually be other women who love women, that I am not a singular oddity? She not only had these thoughts, but acted on them! She had never met another like-minded woman—not to mention one whose looks could stop a locomotive in its tracks like Jewel Ashton.

She was roused from her musings when she heard a desperate voice from across the desk. "So now you see the urgency and delicacy of the matter."

She quickly shoved the note and the photograph back into the envelope and replied with sincerity. "Do not be distressed, Lady Jewel Ashton. We will take care of this with great expediency. I shall show these to the detective and he will know just what to do. Wait here. I'll return anon."

Stetson stepped into the room behind her, leaned against the closed door, and let out a deep sigh. With eyes shut and hugging herself, she took a moment to process the warm thrill that rose from her loins. Reveling in the euphoric rush, she wanted to believe the impossible–that maybe her dreams could come true. Mayhap there was a chance, ever so slight, that she, too, could act on her passions. Her breathing became ragged as she imagined kissing Jewel, and being kissed in return. Her heart pounded in excitement. Until reality stuck its ugly head into her dream reminding her there was a case to solve. Stetson moaned softly in aggravation and opened her eyes to glance around her inner sanctum.

Within the confines of Mr. Wellington's lair were all the implements one would need to be a successful private investigator. On the wall to the left was an array of weapons, including both an umbrella and walking cane hiding swords in their handles, an umbrella with a singleshot rifle barrel and a trigger in the handle, several knives, guns, and gadgets. A glass-doored cabinet contained other curiosities such as a wristwatch that concealed a tiny explosive, a unique copper and brass miniature camera with flash attachment, a mirror attached to a long folding pole for seeing around corners or over walls, telescopic opera glasses, and a voice recording device. There was a table holding an array of wigs in vast colors and styles for both men and women, false beards and moustaches, along with an exhaustive selection of hats. Hanging from hooks on another wall were various costumes for the well-to-do business people, and the poor, male and female alike. There was a large vanity with a mirror and cases of cosmetics and face powder as one might see backstage of a theatre. Yes, the windowless room had all the trappings to outfit a man of mystery save one—there was no Xavier Wellington… only Stetson.

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Author Bio

Edale Lane is an award-winning author (Rainbow Awards, Imaginarium Awards, Lesfic Bard Awards) who is realizing her dream of being a full-time writer. She is the alter-ego of author Melodie Romeo, (Tribute in Blood, Terror in Time, and others) who founded Past and Prologue Press. Both identities are qualified to write historical fiction by virtue of an MA in History and 24 years spent as a teacher, along with skill and dedication regarding research. A native of Vicksburg, MS, Edale (or Melodie) is also a musician who loves animals, gardening, and nature. After driving an 18-wheeler cross-country for eight years, she now lives with her partner in beautiful Chilliwack, B.C. Canada.

Author Website: https://pastandprologuepress.lpages.co/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/melodie.romeo/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Pastandprologuepress/

Author Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/EdaleLane

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/edale_lane/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15264354.Edale_Lane

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/edale-land/

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/edale-land/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Edale-Lane/e/B07GRFPDRZ

Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Christmas Chevalier (Christmas Masquerade #1) by Meg Mardell

Author Meg Mardell and IndiGo Marketing host today's release blitz for holiday historical romance, The Christmas Chevalier (Christmas Masquerade #1) ! Discover more and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: The Christmas Chevalier

Series: Christmas Masquerade, Book One

Author: Meg Mardell

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: November 30th, 2020

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Female

Length: 33400

Genre: Historical, LGBTQIA+, historical/Victorian England, holiday/Christmas, gay, trans, friends to lovers, coming out, humorous, slow burn, mistaken identity, deception romance

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Synopsis

Alvy Lexington has bought himself the best Christmas present in the world. True, the draughty flat on a dingy stretch of the Thames has none of the welcoming holiday warmth of his family’s West London townhouse. That is the entire point! No one who knows him by his given name will ever set foot here. When his old friend Laura Jacobs needs somewhere to spend the holidays, Alvy knows he should keep his distance, but… But Laura makes him do incautious things. Like offering her a job—since when did he manage a printing press?—and inviting her to a certain Christmas Eve masquerade.

Laura knows the lush London of the Lexingtons is only a temporary escape from her grey days as a governess. But she is determined to enjoy this glittering winter wonderland while it lasts, especially her dance with an angel of a man at the masquerade. Why, his French chevalier costume practically glows! While she daydreams about her white knight, an unexpected business opportunity with Alvy makes her hopeful of a new independent life. But first, she is going to have to come to a real understanding with her old friend.

Excerpt

The Christmas Chevalier
Meg Mardell © 2020
All Rights Reserved

London, 1879

“Oh, my…my…my…”

“God?” her companion supplied innocently.

Laura glared up from where she stood doubled over, clutching the door frame with one gloved hand and pressing her side with the other.

“Gracious! Why…why must you take rooms level with…Big Ben?”

Alvy continued looking down at her with infuriating amusement.

“Ah, but the climb is one of the place’s chief charms. Come look at the view of the river. The embankment’s spoilt all its old charm of course, but we must have wide streets and electric lamps apparently.”

Laura’s heart continued to slam against her corseted ribs. She was not willing to praise the view. Or to move a step further.

“The stairs smell of…boiled cabbage and worse. While your place…what is the smell, Alvy? I would say it was tobacco, except I know your mother—”

“Would have an apoplectic fit if she so much as detected a particle of ash on my person? Very true. But then, that is the beauty of taking quarters in such a godforsaken corner of the town. Mother will never visit! I’m rather glad you were intrepid enough to brave Vauxhall. And the stairs.”

Laura had at last mastered her breathing and straightened to return fire on her tormentor.

“What, and miss a chance to see for myself your new, er, work premises? How spacious it is!”

She gestured around the large but scarcely furnished room. The tall sash windows admitted a great deal of midday winter light—and even more of the chill December air. There was no sign of a desk, or worktable, and the domestic furnishings only extended to a day-bed and a pair of battered armchairs before an open fire.

“You forget, Alvy, I am not such a fine lady that I need fear stares outside of fashionable London. The freedoms of being in the governess class are many and varied.”

Alvy flopped down into an armchair and stretched a slippered foot out from under the hem of a heavy silk dressing gown towards the cheerful blaze.

“Are they indeed? By Jove, I should love to know more about these rights and privileges.”

Laura wondered if she was being teased. But then she never could tell with her friend.

“Well, let’s see…There is the right to squash into an omnibus and end up directly next to a gentleman with a dripping hat.”

Alvy grinned at this start. Laura warmed to her task.

“The right to return your library books while enduring the scrutiny of some wire-spectacled gorgon.”

“Very right too! You look just the sort to eat buttered toast while reading borrowed books.”

“And, let us not forget, the preeminent privilege of politely bickering about the bill with other governesses at tea rooms.”

“Harpies the lot of them—yourself excepted. Lord, I’m so glad you’ve escaped those grubby children—”

“Child. And this one is an angel.” Too angelic, in fact. It made Laura worry about the girl’s inner life.

“Sanctimonious parents—”

“Mr and Mrs Shepherdson have been nothing but kind!” Or they had been. Until the discovery of certain books and letters.

“And the atrociously dull company of Dingley Dell—”

“For the tenth time, Alvy, it is Findleys Ford.”

“Ah ha! So you at least admit they are dull. But all these country backwaters are the same. London’s the only place to live.”

“A point you are forever making in your letters. It is not like I hied off to Dingley—to Findleys Ford on an idle whim.”

“Well, well, the point is you’ve escaped for the holidays. And, as you see, I’ve escaped too.”

“That fact had not eluded me. Your mother claims you are never to be seen at Norland Square.”

Laura could not imagine ever wanting to leave the ever-so-comfortable surrounds of Alvy’s childhood home. She had dreamt of the sumptuous dinners, the hot baths, and the soft sheets turned down by a maid for weeks now as she lay on her narrow tick mattress under the eaves at the Shepherdsons.

“Your mother is under the impression you are starting some great enterprise that will give work to female printers who are refused employment elsewhere.”

“Ah, not quite. I said I was setting up a printing press—and set it up I have.”

Alvy gestured with a long-fingered hand to a space behind the still-gaping door.

Laura swung the door shut. A great black iron contraption with decorative gold paintwork dominated the otherwise empty space.

“Oh, you have an Albion Press!”

“An Albion? I could have sworn the past owner called it an albatross.”

“Very funny. But the gold finial—that gold crown on top—is unmistakable. How on earth did you get it up here?”

“The men got it up here with a great deal of sweat and swearing. I got it up with bribery. They threatened to quit halfway up the stairs.”

“I am only surprised they did not bring down the whole staircase. But the press looks excellently preserved.”

“And it will remain in exactly the same condition.”

“Do you mean it is truly only for show? That is a rather rotten trick to play your mother.”

“Trick? I have done Mother a great service. She doesn’t know what to do with me. She has finally despaired of my marrying now that I am striding across the wasteland of my thirties.”

“I do not remember her ever being very pressing on the issue.”

“I have given myself some employment. Now she will have something to tell her society ladies at those dreadful committee meetings.”

“That you have dedicated yourself to good works—without the work part?”

Alvy blithely ignored Laura’s sarcasm.

“She will omit the part about Vauxhall, naturally.”

“While you will omit everything else?”

Something in Alvy’s dark eyes suddenly made Laura wish to change her tart tone.

With no doormat or boot-scraper in sight, she had no choice but to track the sludgy London streets into the room. Not that there was a scrap of carpet to dirty. Seating herself in a heap of mud-striped travelling skirts on the lone ottoman, Laura studied her friend.

Alvy’s appearance, especially after a long separation, always rekindled a flicker of Laura’s original awe. She knew that the gaze she held was properly described as brown. It was just the pale skin turning bluish under the eyes that made them look so intensely dark. Likewise, the greying walls and bare floorboards of these new quarters probably made Alvy’s costume of rich browns and blues so transparently costly. Alvy preserved a long-limbed grace even when reclining in a splendid heap in the battered chair.

Laura once assumed that the possessor of such a regal appearance would snub a nobody like her. She had since learnt the error of judging by appearances. She now took up one of those elegantly white hands, trying to ignore how dirty her sensible gloves looked in comparison.

“Tell me really what you mean to do. Come. We have known each other since we were practically children.”

The elegant hand was withdrawn. Alvy sat higher in the chair and broke into a fair imitation of a Scotsman.

“Speak for yourself, lassie. I was a full three and twenty when we met at that bonny brook in Switzerland. Or have ye forgot that day?”

Laura definitely remembered the questioning curve of Alvy’s left eyebrow as they passed each other on the trail; she was looking at it again now. Laura had been nineteen and on her first assignment with a family wintering at Luzern.

“How could I forget? You were wearing the most memorable alpine hat and matching coat. More feathers and frogging I had never seen. And yet, infuriatingly, you wore it all with such ease. Why, you still do!”

Alvy looked confused. “I promise that I don’t strut down the streets of London in alpine dress.”

“I mean that you are able to look well in anything. Take this turban contraption. No one else could wear it without looking foolish. Well, except perhaps a Shakespearean tragedian.”

Alvy gingerly felt the turban in question, silk without a doubt, but burst into laughter upon Laura’s final admission.

“The thing you never do seem to realise, Miss Jacobs, is that all clothes are costumes. All equally ridiculous.”

“Yours are not ridiculous! Eccentric perhaps. But becoming. You always do upholster yourself exquisitely. Which is more than I can say for your rooms.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read Universal Link

Meet the Author

Meg moved from the US to England because she fell in love with the Victorians’ peculiar blend of glamour and grime. After a decade of exploring historical excesses in a prim scholarly fashion, she realized that fiction is the best way to delve into that period’s great female-focused and LGBT+ stories. Weaned on the high-seas romances of the 1990s, Meg’s lost none of her love for cross-dressing cabin boys but any tolerance for boorish heroes. She’s delighted to now have a whole raft of quirky and queer characters to cheer for on their quest for Happily Ever After. She frequently breaks off writing for an Earl Grey tea (milk not lemon). She’s trying to learn Polish and Portuguese at the same time. She plans to escape Brexit Britain.

Website | Twitter | eMail

Giveaway

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Tag Team Review: Any Old Diamonds (Lilywhite Boys #1) by K.J. Charles

Lord Alexander Pyne-ffoulkes is the younger son of the Duke of Ilvar, with a bitter grudge against his wealthy father. The Duke intends to give his Duchess a priceless diamond parure on their wedding anniversary—so Alec hires a pair of jewel thieves to steal it.

The Duke's remote castle is a difficult target, and Alec needs a way to get the thieves in. Soldier-turned-criminal Jerry Crozier has the answer: he'll pose as a Society gentleman and become Alec's new best friend.

But Jerry is a dangerous man: controlling, remote, and devastating. He effortlessly teases out the lonely young nobleman’s most secret desires, and soon he’s got Alec in his bed—and the palm of his hand.

Or maybe not. Because as the plot thickens, betrayals, secrets, new loves, and old evils come to light. Now the jewel thief and the aristocrat must keep up the pretence, find their way through a maze of privilege and deceit, and confront the truth of what's between them...all without getting caught.

3.875 Heart average

Adam - 3.75 hearts

The blurb had me practically salivating. Family drama, crime, Victorian aristocracy, contempt for said aristocracy, two very mismatched characters, and a hint of kink.

I couldn’t wait to get my hands on this!

The book introduces readers to someone who should be one of Victorian Britain’s most privileged individuals - Lord Alexander Pyne-ffoulkes, i.e. Alec, the younger son of the Duke of Ilvar.

But Alec, living in a rundown apartment as a struggling illustrator, is far from a young noble living the high life. And there’s little love lost between himself and his ducal father.

I was rooting for Alec from the start. He’s shy and bookish, but had a strong sense of purpose and the grit to back it up. And his grudge against his father isn’t based on greed.

That grudge brings him to Jerry Crozier - one of the infamous Lillywhite Boys. Jerry has spent his life relieving the rich of their sparkly possessions, and the chance to get the Ilvar jewels is an opportunity he can’t pass up.

He’s also not opposed to possessing young Alec along the way.

What I liked most about Jerry is that he makes no apologies. He’s a thief and without compunction, and makes sure Alec knows what the deal is.

The two men are pulled together from the start. Alec’s attracted to the dangerous callous man, and Jerry wants to take ruin that naive innocence.

And Alec was all on board for being ruined. These two were hot. Alec submits so sweetly, and Jerry’s just the right amount of cruel yet giving. And Alec loves every second of it.

Their affair plays out against the backdrop of an elaborate crime. I really enjoyed the entire plot. I don’t want to reveal anything, but the way the crime plays out definitely threw me for a loop.

It was a fun ride, with the family drama making it more so.

My only complaint - I’d have liked Jerry and Alec to talk about what they wanted earlier on. Granted, the situation wasn’t conducive to them talking about their feelings, but the big talk didn’t happen until right at the end.

Even so, there’s no denying that these two just get each other and belong together. Jerry sees Alec’s inner strength, and Alec sees past Jerry’s rough edges.

‘Any Old Diamonds’ is a classic KJ Charles read, and hits all a lot of high notes. Recommended if you’re looking for an MM historical romance!


Lost in a Book - 4 Hearts

There’s something so comforting about a K.J. Charles historical romance. Well, as comforting as intrigue, murder, jewel thieves, and filial retribution can be...which for me is as effective as a cozy blanket and a mug of hot chocolate. #content

Lord Alexander has harbored rage for years after his family was turned away by his father, Duke Ilvar. The Duke and Duchess remain quite wealthy while their children live in poverty. With their anniversary coming soon, the Duke has commissioned a diamond parure for his wife and Lord Alexander (Alec) hires renowned jewel thieves to steal it.

Jewel thief, Jerry Crozier is unapologetic about his profession and instructs Alec that he must get in the good graces of the Duke and his wife. This is a really tough pill to swallow for Alec who has to alienate important people in his life to see the mission through. Part of the mission requires Jerry and Lord Alexander to become the very best of friends. The benefits they discover and partake in are strictly a bonus.

Jerry is harsh and doesn’t sugarcoat his past nor what he expects out of the present/future. Alec is independent but craves someone to take control in the bedroom (Jerry was good at doing control type things and let’s just say I was here for it). I do wish Jerry and Alec had more getting to know you moments instead of always hopping on the orgasm train... which isn’t totally a complaint but I wanted more. I could *see* some subtle moments during those intimate times, moving them closer together. Yet, I would have definitely welcomed more relational development.

The plot has a lot of moving pieces and I really like all the ground work that has to be laid in order to pull off the heist. There are lots of twists and turns along the way.

Holy plot twist Batman. I also enjoyed the mentions of the Vanes and Cirencester from the Society series. Any Old Diamonds is not a touchy feely romance. It’s sexy, entertaining, gruesome, and suspenseful, with plot twists around every bend. Recommended.

Anniversary Shenanigans: C.B. Lewis Giveaway!

Who is ready for historical mythology?

Sara and SheReadsALot have tag teamed and devoured some of C.B. Lewis' work earlier this year.

See our squees for Private Truths (HERE) and Patron (HERE)!

Romance done right, if you like it slow burn and sensual.

We asked C.B. Lewis to party with us and party she did! And she left a gift just for you... GIVEAWAY!

Our many unicorn thanks to the author for the awesome gift!

About the Author

A book-lover from infancy, C.B. has been writing and telling stories for as long as she can remember. Based in Edinburgh, she has diverse tastes and will quite happily attempt to write any genre, but always come back to history, fantasy, and sci-fi like an old friend. C. B. Lewis is small and Scottish and can often be spotted perched around historical monuments with her notepad and pen. She has been writing and telling tales for almost as long as she can remember, and has a brain that constantly fizzes with an abundance of ideas. If she’s not working on half a dozen things at once, it should be considered a slow day. She loves to travel and just has one continent left to complete her travel bingo card. A lot of the travel has also been research-based, and if pointed at any historical event, she will research it vociferously, just because she can. Normally, she is based in Edinburgh, where she tends toward the hermit-lifestyle, needing nothing but a kettle, a constant supply of tea, and – of course – the internet. There are no cats, no puppies, no significant others, only a lot of ideas, and an awful lot of typing. And occasionally, cake. Never forget the cake.

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C.B. Lewis is giving away one eBook copy of Patron! (See our review link above ICYMI)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The giveaway is open until 12:00AM (EST) on 11/29/17. Shortly thereafter, we will contact a winner!

Please respond to the winning notification within 48 hours or we will choose another winner. Good luck!

Don't miss entering in our month long unicorn giveaway HERE! It ends 12/1/17!

Trivia Question: Which historical series features love interests that are a dandy, a radical bookseller & a valet? 10 pts

Random winner will be chosen 11/23. I'll be traveling all will so I will try to have winners notified no later than 6 pm EST.

Blog Tour + Giveaway: Yuletide Truce by Sandra Schwab

Sandra Schwab and A Novel Take PR visit the clubhouse with the Yuletide Truce blog tour! The author invites you into the author's den and hosts a pretty awesome giveaway: 3 copies of any back list book! Good luck!

Title:Yuletide Truce

Publisher: Sandra Schwab

Release Date (Print & Ebook): 22 September 2017

Length (Print & Ebook): 18,000 words

Subgenre: historical romance, Victorian romance, mm romance, holiday romance

Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074RFMZZG

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940154716328

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1271132629

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/Search/Query?fcmedia=Book&query=9781386064312

Book blurb:

London, 1845

It's December, Alan "Aigee" Garmond's favorite time of the year, when the window display of the small bookshop where he works fills up with crimson Christmas books and sprays of holly. Everything could be perfect — if it weren't for handsome Christopher Foreman, the brilliant writer for the fashionable magazine About Town, who has taken an inexplicable and public dislike to Aigee's book reviews.

But why would a man such as Foreman choose to target reviews published in a small bookshop's magazine? Aigee is determined to find out. And not, he tells himself, just because he finds Foreman so intriguing.

Aigee’s quest leads him from smoke-filled ale-houses into the dark, dingy alleys of one of London's most notorious rookeries. And then, finally, to Foreman. Will Aigee be able to wrangle a Yuletide truce from his nemesis?

Quotes from Sandra Schwab about the book:

Yuletide Truce is a feel-good enemies-to-lovers holiday romance that takes you on a sweeping journey to Victorian London, to fog-filled streets and smoke-filled taverns, to Fleet Street, where news are made, and to Bethnal Green, where once a crime lord ruled as supreme master. Meet those who criticized a rich ruling class that clung to its old privileges, and those who eked out a meagre livelihood on the streets of the metropolis. Yuletide Truce not a story about rich people, but a story about two ordinary men — because everybody deserves a happily-ever-after, and I want to challenge the idea that it's somehow only straight, white, rich people whose stories deserve to be told.

Quotes from other authors about the book:

“Sandra Schwab's Yuletide Truce is charming and witty, and I thoroughly enjoyed the peep into Victorian literary culture. The relationship between the proudly self-made Aigee and carelessly arrogant Foreman unfolds through dueling book reviews and salon repartee, but also in wonderfully drawn London streets and rickety boarding houses. The cross-class romance is a terrific cup of holiday cheer.” --Emma Barry, author of the Fly Me to the Moon series with Genevieve Turner

“Yuletide Truce is warm and cozy, just what I want out of a holiday romance. Aigee is a total cinnamon roll and it was lovely to see him happy.”--Cat Sebastian, author of The Ruin of a Rake and The Soldier’s Scoundrel

Excerpt

Confronting Foreman in the Cider Cellars, a tavern:

Aigee pushed forward through the crowd in the direction Sherrick had indicated, and sure enough: over there, a table in the corner had been taken by four men from About Town, among them Christopher Foreman—that mop of golden curls was unmistakable. He was lounging on his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him.

Aigee took a deep breath. “Mr. Foreman. A word, if you please.”

Very slowly, the blond head turned, golden brows arched delicately. “Dear me. If it isn’t Munro’s pup,” Foreman drawled.

It wouldn’t do, Aigee told himself, to lose his temper and plant a wallop onto Foreman’s arrogant nose. Not in a crowded tavern, where a good quarter of the men present were happily belting out the chorus to a song about a milkmaid and a magic flute.

It was the kind of song that would have made moralists turn pale, if not fall into a dead faint.

Not that Aigee hadn’t heard worse.

He pasted a pleasant smile on his face. “Mr. Foreman, I’m sorry my reviews don’t appeal to you. However, I don’t see why you should take such umbrage, considering that Munro’s is a rather small magazine. Perhaps it is time to focus your ire on somebody else’s work. Preferably work from a magazine equal to About Town.”

The golden brows rose even higher. “So the pup talks?”

The other men at the table chuckled.

Inwardly, Aigee gritted his teeth, but still kept his voice pleasant. “I fail to understand why you hold me in such dislike, Mr. Foreman, but I would ask you not to take it out on my employer.”

Foreman flicked a lazy hand, as if he were swatting away an annoying fly. “Dislike? You must have misunderstood me.” His voice turned venomous. “Why should a pup like you interest me? It’s your simpering reviews I hold in contempt. Puff pieces to boost your employer’s sales.”

By now, several men were listening in on their conversation.

“Hear, hear!” somebody said. “I thought puffing went out of fashion in the thirties.”

“So last century,” somebody else muttered.

This time, Aigee allowed his teeth to show. “Puffing? I write nothing that I don’t mean. And we all want to make a living.”

Foreman’s glittering gaze swept over him. “I have no objection to you making a living, Mr. Garmond. As long as it doesn’t involve writing literary reviews.” His lips curved into a taunting smile. “Surely it should be obvious that somebody like you has no business writing them.”

Aigee felt each word as if it were a slap. There was a great rushing noise in his ears, and suddenly, all the sounds in the tavern seemed to come from very far away.

In the Author's Den

Thank you so much, Boy Meets Boy Reviews, for helping me to celebrate the release of my Victorian holiday romance Yuletide Truce! Have you ever wondered what the workplace of an author might look like, especially the workplace of an author who writes historicals? Well, my study looks very much as you might expect: there are books everywhere. And I mean, EVERYwhere.

I like having my research books close by when I write, so I can quickly look up what kind of food a soldier in the Roman army would have grabbed for dinner from a foodstall 2000 years ago or what kind of furniture you might have found in a drawing room in 1817.

These days, most of my books are written on my old AlphaSmart, a sturdy, lightweight computer substitute that was developed for schools back in the 1990s. Because it's relatively small, it leaves plenty of space on my desk for…well…research books. And for a nice cup of tea! ☺

Now, some books require special equipment and special care: When 150 pounds of Punch, the satirical Victorian magazine, moved in with me seven years ago, I got a book pillow, so I wouldn't damage the volumes by opening them too far and breaking the spine.

While I'm researching and writing, my writing buddies cheer me on: This little dude, the Roman duckie, offers excellent support when I write about grumpy Roman centurions. ☺

But my absolute favorite place for writing? That's my little camper trailer Miss Hetty, whom I bought last year. Though she is already 17 years old, she is still in great shape, and she has found a new home at a camping site not far from where I live. This is where I wrote most of Yuletide Truce (covered in bug repellant to ward off the horseflies and wasps). Even on rainy days, the view is fantastic!

Author Bio:

Award-winning author Sandra Schwab started writing her first novel when she was seven years old. Thirty-odd years later, telling stories is still her greatest passion, even though by now, she has exchanged her pink fountain pen of old for a black computer keyboard. Since the release of her debut novel in 2005, she has enchanted readers worldwide with her unusual historical romances (some of which she now uses to shamelessly fangirl over Punch, her favorite Victorian magazine).

She holds a PhD in English literature, and in autumn 2015, she appeared on the BBC documentary Great Continental Railway Journeys to talk about another favorite topic of hers, the Grimms’ fairy tales (while walking through a rather muddy stretch of the Black Forest) (there were a lot of slugs, too).

She lives in Frankfurt am Main / Germany with a sketchbook, a sewing machine, and an ever-expanding library.

Connect with Sandra:

Website: http://www.sandraschwab.com

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/k4j3w6

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ScribblingSandy

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SandraSchwab.Author/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/scribblingsandy/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/SandraSchwab

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Tag Team Review: Patron by C.B. Lewis

Theodore Wentworth, who possesses little more than a sharp and well-educated mind, is trying to solicit a sponsor for his studies of Greek antiquity by performing recitations at gatherings of collectors. Desperate for luck and better skills in oratory, in jest, he places a coin at the feet of a statue of Hermes. It seems like coincidence when his fortune turns and a gentleman calling himself Alexander becomes his benefactor. Despite his friend John teasing him about it, Theodore continues to offer tokens to Hermes and sinks himself into his study of the classics.

Alexander encourages Theodore’s interest, prompting Theodore to face desires he tried to put aside years before. As Theodore embraces the knowledge, he must also resist his attraction to Alexander—knowing his feelings are a serious crime in Victorian England.

But the secret Alexander keeps will change everything in a love story for the ages, steeped in taboo, temptation, history, and myth.

Sara - 4.5 Hearts

This was a breath of fresh air. I have an adoration and fascination with mythology of all sorts but Greek was the first I truly was engaged with. It’s always amazing to learn why things are in our modern times – like say the seasons – and have them traced back to mythology (Hades, Demeter and Persephone) which always seems to make perfect sense to me. This book relies on mythology for the ideology of this story and it’s done beautifully.

We meet Theodore Wentworth in Victorian London as he is studying law but has a real love for the Greek Language. Theodore is in need of money and hopes that being asked to do a reading from the Iliad will draw a patron to him so that financial worries will be lessened. As Theodore is waiting in the library, he falls upon a statue of Hermes and decides to lay a shilling at the Gods feet and call out for help. Superstitious or not, Theodore knows there is nothing to lose and as he is called in for the reading it is too late to take back his shilling.

Though Theodore is good with this Greek, he flies through his reading like a rock star and earns the attention of some favorable gentlemen who offer a bit of work. But it’s the dark haired man with the cane that arouses Theodore’s senses in so many ways and they mystery behind this gentleman stirs a long hidden secret of Theodore. With Theodore’s internal dialogue while questioning his curiosity about the gentleman, we get a small glimpse into Theodore’s past and learn about his friend Robert from school whose shared curiosity earned them both a caning across the palms.  

I have to say quickly; I truly love that the author gave a confirmed bachelor like Theodore such a wonderful friend in John and made John unconventional for the times. He gets his best friend and knows all about Robert – which in its own way is code for Theodore’s attraction to men - but John is nothing but faithful in his friendship and always tries to do what’s best for Theodore.

Now this short story relies heavily on mythology and some YA fans of The Song of Achilles will enjoy that Theodore gets a chance to read all of The Iliad including the pages he wasn’t taught in school that including Achilles and Patroklus. I sighed as Theodore read and realized that Achilles and Patroklus were more than just friends and how Achilles reacted to Patroklus death made much more sense. It seems odd that a simple friendship would impart revenge over the death of one’s “friend” with such passion.  But you get why a lover would revenge the death of his beloved. Now, it has been much debated if these two were lovers but I lean toward the side that they were. Mythology gives us many instances were men loves men, like I love the idea that Apollo was so in love with Hyacinth, he refused to let Hades take him and instead turned him into a flower from his spilled blood.  Mythology  has this sort of alpha male deal to it, and I like it but I also like that the Greeks were so fond of love and fornicating that they were open to who it was with…even if you needed to turn into a golden shower or swan to get off.

Okay, I digress but I said I loved mythology. Back to the book.

When the dark haired gentleman from Theodore’s reading calls upon him to dinner, they begin to talk about the hidden texts and what they mean. Theodore is afraid of his feelings toward the now named Alexander and terrified that Alexander may want the same thing. When he lays down a few more offerings to Hermes and they are answered without reservation, it’s time for Theodore to decide if he can accept what is in front of him without prejudice.

Patron truly was a lovely read and special treat for those who favor mythology.  I loved the feel of it, how the intimate touches were so whispery and light yet so meaningful. They felt right for the time and while that end felt abrupt – or maybe I just wanted more – but it left this reader satisfied.

SheReadsALot - 4 Hearts

Slow and steady wins the race, right?

It would have been enough to part with the smile and a handshake, but Alexander grazed his thumb down the back of Theodore's hand. His eyes never left Theodore's, dark and warm, and then their fingers were slipping apart, and Theodore tried to recall how to breathe.

Well slow burn tends to win for me too. And this author struck the right chords for me yet again.

Patron is a short story based in the historical Victorian period. It stars geeky lawyer, Theodore Wentworth, a man of humble beginnings who worked what he has so far. Though he is a lawyer, his passion is Greek mythology. (Can't say that I blame him because it's a fave subject of mine as well). His passion doesn't bring home any money, nor is he rich. He seeks a sponsor with a love for the Hellenic period. The story starts with Theodore nervous, about to read a text in ancient Greek and he offers a small payment to a statue of the god Hermes. The story slowly shows Theodore in his element, his nervousness and geek chic. Something comes over him as he reads the text to the potential rich patrons. Could it be the man with mesmerizing eyes staring directly at him in the back of the room?

The man who ignites something in Theodore only gives the name of Alexander. If you read the blurb, you can easily figure out the mystery behind Alexander. But... that's the magic of the story. That and the quiet pursuit of Theodore by Alexander. Theodore was slowly plodding along a lonely life, never even dreaming of having a companion due to being gay in that time period and fearing for retribution for loving who he wants to love. He denies himself.

And I think the author captured enough emotions to show the longing in Theodore. He's so afraid. He has a very good friend and his wife for companionship. But the resignation takes a toll, hiding who he is stifles him. Alexander who shares the same interests, the same passion, and possible the same attraction, seems like a dream man.

After that magical night of ancient Greek reading, Alexander begins to creep into Theodore's waking thoughts and dreams.  He shows up once in awhile as Theodore's luck is changing for the better. Alexander with his smoldering glances and grazes... *bites lip* Nothing too overt, more sensual and intimate than anything. I think the author aced it with the pauses and touches. Sometimes more can be said when bodies speak for themselves without being extremely obvious.

He locked the door of his small room, and only then did he lift his hand to his cheek where Alexander had touched him. Such a touch was far more intimate than a hand to the shoulder or to the elbow.

I wouldn't suggest this story if you need everything spelled out, filled with sex (there is a sex scene but I've noticed the author doesn't get overly graphic) or need immediate actions. Even though it's a short length, the characters take some time to get to know each other. Or I should say Theodore takes the time to discover something within himself that he never dared dream for.

I'm on the fence with the length of the story. On one hand, it's a little short to give a full picture of Theodore's seduction. And on the other hand, it works because where else could the story go with mysterious Alexander? The pacing starts slow, and the time spent with Theodore's best friend and wife seemed a tad long in points but it did showcase key turning points.

What sold me were smaller moments. JEEZSUS, does this author win in the smaller moments department. You get a touch or a glance between the protagonists and I mini swooned on the inside.

The story is tame, quietly passionate at points and bursting with Greek mythology references. Is there a HEA? I'd like to think so. It's sort of HFN, maybe HEA depending on who you ask. I'm hopeful and still quietly preening from gestures made in Patron. It starts slow and ends with quiet boom.

The last words? Made the entire story.

This story solidified me as a C.B. Lewis fan. I'm anxious for what else is plotting in their mind.