Some Secrets Wear Very Good Tailoring by Camille Elliot

She sits behind the flowers, watching the man she cannot decide whether to trust.

Here’s a brand-new image of this scene from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer, where my heroine, Miss Phoebe Sauber, begins to suspect that the gentleman who intrigues her may be hiding considerably more than she realized.

Mr. Coulton-Jones didn’t see Phoebe because she was sitting behind the enormous flower arrangement, but he had just approached a man who stood against the wall near the fireplace. Mr. Coulton-Jones’s fine, coffee-brown hair had been forced into a fashionable style, and his cravat was elegantly tied, his shirt-points high but not overly so. His jacket was perhaps a couple of years old but not out of style, and it suited his muscular physique admirably.

“Aunt.” Phoebe nodded toward the two men.

“He only just arrived a moment ago,” her aunt replied.

Phoebe wasn’t certain how she ought to feel upon seeing him again. Now that she knew the connection between the symbol she had found on the Heath, her late Uncle Wynwood and Uncle Sol, Mr. Coulton-Jones’s meeting with that strange man took on a more sinister cast.

Was he involved in something to oppose the government or the war? Because if Uncle Sol were investigating something for the Home Office, it possibly involved one of those two. Yet remembering her conversation with him, and her impressions of his personality, she had a hard time believing that possibility. Or was she simply blinded by her attraction to him?

There was a purr in her aunt’s voice as she said, “It’s very interesting that as soon as he entered the room, he chose to speak to that man.”

—from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer

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Curious how it all begins?

Read the beginning of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer for free and discover why Phoebe's suspicions about Mr. Coulton-Jones are only the beginning.

👉 Read the excerpt now

The Gentleman Across a Regency Ballroom You Aren't Allowed to Meet

In a contemporary romance, two people can meet almost anywhere. They might strike up a conversation in a coffee shop, at work, or while waiting in line.

A young lady in Regency England had no such freedom. Even if she noticed an interesting gentleman across a ballroom, she could not simply walk over and say hello. Before romance—or even conversation—could begin, someone had to introduce them.

A Regency ball (illustrative image)

How Did Regency Ladies Meet Gentlemen?

Imagine you are at a ball in Regency-era London.

The chandeliers are blazing, the musicians are playing something lively, and your slippers are already pinching because you insisted on looking elegant instead of sensible.

Across the room, you notice a gentleman—respectable, pleasant, possibly even interesting. Naturally, you might think to walk over and introduce yourself.

… Except you can’t.

Not because you are shy (although you might be). Not because he is surrounded by others (although he might be). But because in Regency society, unless you have been properly introduced, you are not supposed to speak to him at all.

The Small Matter of Being Allowed to Speak

In Regency society, conversation between unmarried ladies and gentlemen was not freely entered into. It required an introduction by a mutual acquaintance, a hostess, or a Master of Ceremonies.

A gentleman was always presented to the lady (never the reverse), and she (or her chaperone) could decline. Accepting implied willingness to dance or converse. Without the introduction, a gentleman should not address a lady, and a lady most certainly should not encourage him.

It sounds terribly restrictive to us, but introductions served as a social safeguard. Reputation was everything, and introductions acted as a filter—ensuring that one was not speaking to someone entirely unsuitable.

(Or at least, not obviously unsuitable.)

Enter the Gatekeeper

A mutual acquaintance, hostess, or Master of Ceremonies often functioned as a social conductor—guiding interactions and deciding who could safely meet.

Introducing a gentleman to a young lady (illustrative image)

At public assemblies, the Master of Ceremonies often stepped in, as in Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, where he introduces Catherine Morland to Henry Tilney so they can dance.

In a private ballroom, the hostess filled that role. Which leads us to this moment from Lissa and the Spy:

Mr. Collingworth came up to her, accompanied by Lady Cliffton, the hostess of the ball. As always, Lady Cliffton’s jewelry—while in good taste—was as flamboyant as the matron. “Miss Gardinier, allow me to introduce Mr. Collingworth.”

Lissa curtseyed, keeping a polite smile on her face, while Mr. Collingworth bowed. In truth, they had been introduced last year, in her first Season, but from the vacant look upon Mr. Collingworth’s face, he had likely forgotten about it.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance, Miss Gardinier?” Mr. Collingworth asked, and Lissa assented.

Re-introductions were actually common and necessary. If a gentleman had forgotten, or the acquaintance wasn’t acknowledged, etiquette dictated they be treated as strangers again.

The Quiet Power of Chaperones

Unmarried ladies, especially those under thirty, were also expected to be accompanied by a chaperone—usually her mother, or a married sister, or an older female relative.

Chaperones did more than sit in chairs and observe—they controlled access. They ensured that conversations remained appropriate, discouraged unwanted attention, and maintained a lady’s sterling reputation ensuring she was never left alone with a gentleman.

What Happens If You Ignore the Rules?

A lady could technically speak without an introduction, but she might be thought “fast” or “forward,” and her marriage prospects would dry up.

Two gossiping ladies (Ackermann's Repository of Arts, October 1810)

For men, the consequences were not quite so dire, but even in Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Collins’s self-introduction to Mr. Darcy is instantly recognized as a social blunder.

It wasn’t just about being unpopular—a failed Season was hundreds of pounds down the drain for her parents or guardian (about $100,000 – $140,000). So most young women—particularly those without title, money, or social standing—were careful.

When You Are Not Easily Noticed

This system favored the well-connected, confident, and wealthy. Many debutantes from lesser-connected families languished on the sidelines, lacking someone to engineer introductions.

My heroine, Lissa, is thoughtful, observant, and not inclined to push herself forward. She very properly relies on others to notice and to introduce her.

And if they don’t? Then she remains at the edge of the room, unremembered even by a gentleman she has already met.

She can’t let her discouragement show. She must smile and curtsey as though nothing is amiss, accept the dance, and pretend she has not been forgotten.

A young lady at her debut ball (Ackermann's Repository of Arts, May 1809)

A Small Opening in a Very Ordered World

Yet, for all its restrictions, the system created moments of real possibility.

A single introduction could change everything. A hostess might bring a quiet young lady forward, or a gentleman might ask for a dance (and remember her the next time).

In a world where one could not simply walk up and speak, every sanctioned interaction carried weight. That scarcity, perhaps, is part of the charm. When something as simple as a conversation is not easily obtained, it becomes all the more significant.

And for a heroine like Lissa, even a slightly awkward re-introduction might spark something unexpected.

Get Lissa and the Spy free

If you enjoy Regency romance with adventure and a dash of humor, you can receive my novella Lissa and the Spy free when you join my newsletter.

Lissa and the Spy

A Regency Romantic Suspense Novella

In her quest for a marriage of convenience, plain and unpopular Lissa finds herself entangled with the enigmatic Lord Jeremy Stoude, who has a secret mission for the Crown. As danger stalks them, they must navigate a labyrinth of society’s expectations and their own insecurities to find love.

Click here to get Lissa and the Spy

An earlier version of this article originally appeared on my personal blog.

When a Regency Wallflower Says Exactly the Wrong Thing

Miss Lissa Gardinier is determined to be a proper Regency lady. Unfortunately, she has a habit of saying exactly what she's thinking.

Excerpt

Last year during that first dance with Mr. Collingworth, upon seeing him excitedly discuss his dog breeding, she had been encouraged to also speak without restraint. So she had voiced her exact thoughts rather than hiding behind a vapid facade. “Why in the world would you name a dog Lickspittle Furrybottom?”

At Mr. Collingworth’s startled look, Lissa realized that she’d said that out loud now, in this dance with him.

“… Not that it’s not a lovely name,” she added lamely.

Mr. Collingworth didn’t believe her, and his conversation faltered. She regretted that, for she hadn’t intended to be rude to him.

“Er … did I speak of Lickspittle Furrybottom?” he asked.

Lissa did a mental shriek at her mistake. “We spoke briefly about her last year. You were worried about her compatibility with Snout Droolalot.”

About the Book

A Christian Regency Romance novella with secrets, suspense, and a dash of humor

In Regency-era London, Miss Lissa Gardinier enters her second Season seeking a marriage in order to escape her mother's constant criticism. So she represses her cheeky remarks behind a quiet, innocent facade.

The enigmatic Lord Jeremy Stoude is dismayed when a chance encounter with Miss Gardinier entangles her in his world of secrets and subterfuge. He cannot afford to be distracted by Lissa’s charming smile and unflappable demeanor.

As danger stalks them and true feelings come to light, can Lissa and Jeremy navigate the labyrinth of society’s expectations and their own insecurities to find love?

Ready to enjoy the full adventure?

Download Lissa and the Spy for free when you join my newsletter!

Dangerous Secrets and Afternoon Tea

What happens when a determined Regency widow suspects her oldest friend is keeping dangerous secrets?

In this scene from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer, Lady Wynwood invites Solomon Drydale to tea—and promptly begins an interrogation.

“Tea?” Laura offered.

Sol eyed it. “Is it poisoned?”

“Would you believe me if I told you no?”

“No,” he answered baldly.

“No tea, then.” She took a slightly perverse satisfaction in sipping her tea while studying him.

Sol shifted in his chair in the silence. “I was surprised to receive your note today, asking me to call upon you when I had seen you only a few days ago.”

“Eighty-four hours ago, in fact.”

Sol cleared his throat. “Just so that I’m aware of the situation, are you upset with me or with something that happened while we were at Lady Meynhill’s birthday celebration?”

Her eyes narrowed at him.

He sighed and answered his own question. “Both.”

“You promised me that long discussion, did you not?”

He colored slightly but gave a smile full of all the charm he could infuse it with, including that adorable—er, lone dimple on his left cheek. “But I sent you that note as soon as I returned to town late Saturday—actually, quite early Sunday morning.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. The one that said, ‘All are well. Thanks for your help this weekend.’”

“It was not that terse, surely.”

“It was nearly that terse. But it was not your letter, Sol. I realize there are certain things about which you cannot speak.” She had purposefully never spoken to him about his clandestine work for the government officials in the Home Office. She had suspected—how could she not, when she and Sol had been such close friends in the ten years since her husband died? Although she had not known about Sol’s work for the government when they had first met decades ago at her debut into society, she had observed him closely enough in the past few years to know that he was involved in some way in the government’s efforts against France’s secretive infiltration of these shores. And then his mysterious agenda at the birthday celebration this past weekend had solidified it in her mind, although he had never overtly spoken about it.

—from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer

Enter the Goodreads Giveaway

Pride and Prejudice meets Mission: Impossible—Christian Historical Suspense with slow-burn romance and a touch of the supernatural.

An alchemist’s potion creates monstrous soldiers who could turn the tides of war. Can a team of misfit aristocrats stop the sale to Napoleon?

Ready for More Regency Intrigue?

Click below to enter the Goodreads giveaway for an ebook copy of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer and step into a world of Regency intrigue, danger, and slow-burn romance.

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📖 Alternately, read the first 3 chapters now

When a Regency Spy Falls in Love with a Lady Archer

Michael Coulton-Jones — master of disguises and reluctant heir.

If you enjoy heroes who grin at danger and bow over a lady’s hand as if the world were nothing more than a ballroom—you might like Mr. Michael Coulton-Jones.

At first glance, Michael is exactly the sort of Regency gentleman who should not be trusted.

He is broad-shouldered and deceptively relaxed. His coffee-brown hair falls longer than fashion dictates, often into glass-green eyes that seem to be laughing at a joke no one else has heard. He speaks French like a commoner from the countryside and Spanish like it is a childhood lullaby.

He is charming. Reckless. Quick with a blade. Quicker with a smile.

And he lies for a living.

A Spy in Disguise

As a younger son, Michael joined the army at seventeen, where his gift for languages and his ease with disguises drew the attention of men who worked quietly in the shadows. Before long, he was no longer simply a soldier. He was retrieving information, slipping through borders, trading false documents for real ones. He learned to become other men as easily as changing coats.

He cultivated a persona—the fool, the adventurer, the rogue who never appears worried. It made people underestimate him. It kept him alive.

But even then, he had somewhere to return to—his family’s estate only an hour from London, a steady older brother who handled responsibility, a charming younger sister, and a mother who believed him merely restless, not dangerous.

His anchor was his brother Richard.

And then Richard was murdered.

The Brother He Could Not Save

Michael could have prevented the tragedy. That’s what haunts him the most.

Richard had written to him after a friend had been killed and he suspected a man with strange facial scars was involved. But Michael was in the middle of a mission and didn’t take it seriously enough.

By the time he returned to England, Richard was dead—officially poisoned along with other club members in what was called an unfortunate incident.

But Michael knew otherwise. Richard’s papers regarding the strange man were missing.

His own unconcern gave evil time to strike.

He hasn’t forgiven himself, and he wonders if God has not forgiven him either.

The Archer He Should Not Want

Before all of that—before grief hardened him—Michael had met a woman who unsettled him.

He was drawn to Miss Phoebe Sauber from the first moment they were introduced—she was awkwardly tall but pragmatic, not impressed by his flirtations. He was intrigued because she did not seem to need him.

But a spy’s life is not kind to attachment, and he’d already learned to keep women at arm’s length. Better to remain unattached. Better to remain free.

So he left her alone.

And then Richard died.

Michael’s focus narrowed to one thing—finding the truth behind his brother’s murder.

A Dangerous Reunion

When Michael encounters Phoebe again, it is not in a ballroom.

It’s when she nearly uses him for target practice.

She found her arrow lodged, not in a victim, but knee-height in a tree trunk at a downward angle, and it had caught a strangely shaped leaf against the bark. As she yanked it out of the tree and the leaf fluttered to the ground, a snapping twig behind her made her tense. It did not sound like anyone from her party who may have been running into the trees after her—it was an isolated sound, made from a slow-moving foot, like someone sneaking up on her.

It had not occurred to her that it might be dangerous for a young woman to be alone on the Heath, where she and her friends often had social gatherings. But these trees extended back hundreds of yards, and anyone could be sneaking around within.

Phoebe clenched the arrow tightly, regretting that she had dropped her bow. She straightened, trying to appear relaxed, listening for sounds other than the leaves dancing in the wind. Then she whirled around, her right arm pulled back and brandishing the arrow overhand like a dagger. At the very least, if there was someone behind her, she could try to stab them.

“Whoa! Whoa!” A tall man stood about ten feet—no, twenty feet distant as he backed away from her, his hands raised in front of him. “I apologize, miss, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The man’s voice had a strong country accent, but the timbre was familiar. At first glance, he didn’t look like anyone she knew. His plain colored clothes were made of rough-woven fabric, stained with dirt in places, and his shoes were old cracked leather. His coat was shabby and poorly sewn, and much too short for him. He had a large nose and deep chin, and his eyes, shadowed by heavy brows, were glass-green.

But then she recognized something about his limbs, the way he moved his hands, the general shape of his face—and those glass-green eyes. “Mr. Coulton-Jones?” she exclaimed in surprise.

She had seen him only rarely over her past several Seasons because he had been fighting on the Peninsula up until last year, when his older brother had died. They had been introduced at a ball in her second Season, and he had danced with her only that one time. While she had a good memory for names and faces, that wasn’t the reason she remembered him clearly—it was because he had made an impact upon her that she hadn’t wanted, but couldn’t erase.

Mr. Coulton-Jones controlled his face admirably, affecting a confused look. “I’m sorry, miss, but you’re mistaken.”

She was not. Like a woman deranged and obsessed (which she very well might be), she had covertly watched him at every gathering they attended together. This was most definitely him. “Mr. Coulton-Jones, why are you dressed like that? And your face … is that stage cosmetics? It’s quite realistic.”

He hesitated for several seconds, and she could tell he was debating between continuing to deny his identity or abandoning his act. The certainty in her gaze must have decided it for him, because he relaxed and his normal saucy smile quirked up the edge of his mouth. “You have me at a disadvantage, Miss Sauber.”

From there, they discover they’re both caught in a web of secrets that stretches farther than either of them expected. Michael discovers that Phoebe’s own uncle may have had ties to the very conspiracy that killed Richard.

Now the woman who unsettles his carefully constructed detachment is suddenly entangled in the same darkness he is hunting. The two of them are drawn together by questions neither can answer alone and a growing awareness that neither truly wants to be rootless.

Guilt, Forgiveness, and a Slow-Burn Love

The story has espionage and secret societies. But it also is about Michael’s guilt over failing his brother.

Phoebe sees what he hides—the grief he buries beneath humor, the daredevil courage that masks shame. And she, too, carries wounds of her own.

Their romance does not resolve quickly.

This series is a serial novel, and their love unfolds gradually across multiple volumes. Trust is earned. Wounds are revealed slowly. Faith is wrestled with honestly. Forgiveness—of others and of oneself—is not immediate.

Michael may be fearless in battle, but learning to hope again is far more dangerous.

If you enjoy:

• A master of disguises who can become anyone—except the man he wishes he were
• A heroine strong enough to face danger beside him
• An ensemble cast investigating a conspiracy threaded through Regency society
• And a slow-burn Christian romance rooted in redemption

… then you may enjoy meeting Michael and Phoebe.

Their story begins in Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1, and the conspiracy that took Richard’s life has only just begun to unfold. Read the first 3 chapters here.

A Touch of Humor in a Regency Romantic Suspense by Camille Elliot

If you enjoy sweet romance with a touch of mystery—and the occasional moment of dry, slightly absurd humor—you may enjoy this glimpse into Regency England with a twist.

My historical romantic suspense stories are set in the early 1800s and feature quiet courage, restrained romance, and characters who find themselves navigating danger with wit as well as resolve. Even in tense moments, there’s often room for an unexpected line of dialogue that lightens the mood.

The following excerpt is from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer and takes place during a serious investigation—but a certain unfortunate nickname has taken on a life of its own among the locals.

If you enjoy clean historical fiction that balances suspense with moments of levity, I hope you enjoy this short excerpt.

***

Sep had made a living out of keeping his emotions from his face, but it was increasingly hard to do so as he and Calvin disembarked from the cart on the streets of Jem Town.

They first headed to where he knew Michael had last been, at Auntie Ann’s Bakery. But Calvin grew tense as they approached from down the street. “There are more people than normal hanging around. Something happened.”

They didn’t need to ask anyone—there were several groups of people huddled together and whispering, so Sep and Calvin sidled up to one of them. Calvin had a look of salacious interest on his young face, and a woman in a dirty mobcap immediately asked, “Did you hear what happened? Lotty was killed early this morning! Found lying against the wall of the bakery, her neck broke.” The woman shivered.

“Must be strong to break a woman’s neck,” the man next to her said in a low voice.

“Hush,” a second woman said. “We don’t talk about them.”

Sep was almost certain they were talking about Jack’s men, who were taking the Root.

“Why would they kill her?” a third woman asked in soft, wondering voice.

“It’s because of that no-good man of hers, that actor thinks he’s a writer. What was his name?”

“He went by some ridiculous name, something like Archipelago Constipation or something or other.”

Sep had to tighten every muscle in his face to keep from reacting to that.

“Didn’t you hear? He went mad only a few days ago. Busted up my cousin’s cabbage cart over in the Long Glades.”

“I hope they threw him in Newgate.”

“He never got there. Got trampled by a horse.”

“So now both Lotty and her man are dead?” The horrified question made everyone pause for a long moment at the unspoken implications of that fact.

Calvin took this moment to tug at Sep’s sleeve and lead him away, toward the entrance to the bakery. In a low voice, Calvin said, “Once they realized both Lotty and Mr. Constipation are dead, they wouldn’t talk anymore about who might have done it. It would be too dangerous.”

***

If you enjoyed this small glimpse into a Regency mystery, the story continues with danger, loyalty, and a slow-burn romance woven quietly through the intrigue.

You can read the opening of Lady Wynwood’s Spies free and decide whether this world is one you’d like to explore further.

👉 Read the opening here

Reference Footer

This post relates to Camille Elliot’s Lady Wynwood’s Spies, a Christian Regency romantic suspense series set in 1811 London and featuring intrigue, espionage, botanical alchemy, slow-burn romance, and themes of faith and redemption.

• Lady Wynwood’s Spies Series Reference Page

• Reading Order: Lady Wynwood’s Spies Reader Journey Roadmap

Puppy Dog Tales Excerpt by Liwen Y. Ho

I know some of us are a little "holiday-ed out" with all the year-end celebrations we just had, but I can't help but be excited about the next big day coming up. Yes, I'm talking about a romance author's favorite holiday: Valentine's Day! 

We're still about a month away, but most stores are already decorated in shades of pink and red. I've had this day on my mind for a while now because I'm working on a Valentine's story, which will be released February 1st. I'll have more details about it for you soon, but in the meantime, I'd like to share about a rom-com I wrote last year. Puppy Dog Tales has all the makings of a total disaster—opposites attracting, matchmaking mamas, and animal antics—and also the warm fuzzies of a sweet romance.

Here's the blurb:
An animal hater and an animal lover’s paths collide the week leading up to Valentine’s Day.

Melvin Lai inherited the last thing he ever wanted from his favorite uncle: a cocker spaniel. Now he’s on the verge of losing his home to the unruly puppy and, much to his surprise, his heart when he meets Dr. Chu, Sparkle’s vet.

Vivian Chu loves caring for her furry friends, so she can’t fathom how anyone could think poorly of her new patient, especially his owner. To her, first impressions are everything, and the one Melvin left has her feeling disheartened and bruised—literally. 

He longs to make her his valentine; she can’t wait to escape him. It’s going to take a miracle for Melvin to win Vivian’s heart, but nothing’s impossible when four-legged conspirators are involved.

And here's an excerpt:
When the middle-aged lawyer with the bad comb-over recited Uncle Bruce’s last will and testament twenty minutes later, he paused before announcing Melvin’s inheritance. Not only did he pause, he might have snickered as well.

“I bequeath unto the persons named below the following property: To my beloved nephew, Dr. Melvin Lai, I leave my beloved cocker spaniel, Sparkle. To my beloved nephew Calvin Lai, I leave my 80s music collection. To my beloved nephew, Erwin Lai, I leave my set of golf clubs. To my beloved niece—”

“No ....” Melvin finally overcame his shock enough to speak. “What did you say? I’m Melvin Lai. Can you repeat what you said about me? Please.”

The lawyer’s body trembled with suppressed laughter. “It says your uncle left you his dog.”

“His … dog?” Melvin shook his head so hard his neck hurt. “You must be mistaken. I hate dogs.”

A collective gasp resounded in the room. His female relatives all shook their heads in disbelief. They were without a doubt second generation Chinese Americans because their foreign-born parents considered canines a delicacy. Having a dog for a pet was a western way of thinking and the “right” way, according to everyone glaring at him. He waved his hands in a gesture of peace. “Wait, I don’t mean I hate dogs. Hate’s too strong a word. Dislike, maybe?”

The next gasp was quieter, but still disapproving.

“Why would Uncle Bruce leave me his dog? Are you sure he was, you know, in a clear state of mind when he wrote the will?”

“I assure you he was,” the lawyer insisted with a stern look. “He stated he wanted you, and only you, to get the dog.”

Melvin released a long breath. This was unexpected. What was Uncle Bruce up to? If only he were still alive, he could provide some answers. Better yet, if he were still around, he could keep his dog for himself. He had no intentions of bringing a slobbery, smelly animal to live with him in his condo. “May I contest the will?”

“You don’t want the dog?” Stray pieces of the lawyer’s comb-over swayed back and forth as he shook his head in dismay. “Are you saying you don’t want to respect your beloved uncle’s last wishes?”

The lawyer sure had a way with words and, not to mention, guilt trips. He’d heard enough of those from his mother that they didn’t affect his conscience anymore, but this one was different. This one was about his uncle, his favorite uncle. The surgeon who’d sparked his interest in medicine. “Wait, what did you say the dog’s name was?”

“It’s Sparkle. Like what the stars do at night.”

Sparkle. Well, well. Maybe this dog was supposed to spark something in his life. A new interest, perhaps? There was only one way to find out. Melvin ran his hands through his hair and uttered the words he never thought he’d say. “Okay, fine. I’ll take the dog.”

----

Poor Melvin! He's in for a wild ride when he meets Sparkle and Sparkle's beautiful vet, Vivian. Don't worry though (spoiler alert!), he's going to thank his uncle big-time for giving him a dog. :)

Puppy Dog Tales is also now available as an audiobook. My narrator, Satauna Howery, did an amazing job bringing the story to life with her comedic timing. You can listen to her narrate the excerpt above in this sample clip. 

Are you looking forward to Valentine's Day? Do you enjoy listening to audiobooks? Let me know in the comments below!

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Sweet Christmas Kisses 4 Sneak Peek of "A Cowboy for Christmas" by Magdalena Scott

Hello! I'm delighted to share the first chapter of Hannah Kincaid's romance with you today. It's included in our annual anthology, "Sweet Christmas Kisses 4." If you've never visited my imaginary town of Serendipity, Indiana, this is a great time! "A Cowboy for Christmas" is book 9 in the series, but you can start here without any problems. I hope you'll enjoy! --Magdalena

~*~

Chapter 1

His eyes were wild with hatred. His breath escaped in hot, fast gasps. Everyone had told me that coming here was a mistake, and they were about to be proven very right. Unable to move, I watched as he leaned down. At the last second, I closed my eyes…

A soft, warm sensation tickled my outstretched palm. Then silence.

Opening my eyes, I met his for a moment before he tossed his head and snorted at my obvious fear. I had survived for now, but wondered what would happen next time.

My friend Jessica nudged me. “Hannah. Chill out, girlfriend. You lived through it.”

I sucked in a deep breath and stepped back from the massive chestnut horse on the other side of the wood slat fence. Killer—what an apt name. Turning, I managed a weak smile at Jessica. “Wow. You were right. That wasn’t so bad.”

She laughed loudly. “You passed apple slice administration 101, but just barely. It couldn’t be more obvious you’re afraid of horses. Tell me again why you wanted to work here on the Rocking H. Be sure to include the part that it has nothing to do with my brother Jacob.” When she mentioned his name, her face clouded, but in an instant was back to normal.

We’d had this conversation before, she and her sister Ashley and I, over coffee by the massive native-stone fireplace in the chuck wagon building. Now, Jessica and I walked away from the corral toward the dude ranch’s chuck wagon and guest housing. A cold wind blew my hair into my face. I pulled a scrunchie out of my jeans pocket, ran my fingers through my red hair, and created a thick ponytail. These days, looking good was reserved for evenings out, and there were few of those. How far I’d fallen since the days at Indiana University-Bloomington, when I didn’t leave the dorm floor looking less than my best.

“I’m still waiting for a job in environmental management,” I said. “I have profiles posted everywhere I can think of, and every night I follow up on whatever I find online. But in Serendipity, this is the closest thing to it.”

“Closest thing to a job or to environmental management?” She waved a hand, not expecting a response. “I know, I know. Ashley and I adore having you here while you try to find the right position to start your career. But we’re afraid that, even temporarily, it’s not a good fit for you.”

“I’ll get used to the horses. I’m making progress already, don’t you think?”

She was silent, but her facial expression spoke volumes.

“Okaa-ay. I will make progress. I’ve only been here a month, after all. I appreciate the two of you hiring me when the tree farm job ended. Especially since you sort of went behind your brothers’ backs to do it.”

“Jacob’s fine. He has plenty to take care of and keep his mind busy without second-guessing our staffing choice. And Michael—well, he doesn’t know what’s happening here except very generally.”

As far as I could tell, he didn’t care either. Three siblings lived and worked at the ranch—Jessica, Ashley, and Jacob. Michael, whom I’d never met, seemed to be a partner in name only. The fact that Killer, Michael’s horse, lived here seemed to indicate he had an intention of visiting sometime. Either that or he had abandoned the horse, just as it seemed he had abandoned his siblings.

The Rocking H Dude Ranch had opened just six months ago and had done better than most folks in Serendipity expected. For a small backward town, we had some outside-the-box businesses, like the bed and breakfast added to the Standish family’s Christmas tree farm across the road from the Rocking H. B&B guests stayed in tiny cabins sprinkled among the acres of Christmas trees. The location of Serendipity, twenty miles from the nearest interstate, had kept the town from growing as much as some of the other county seats, so recent improvements had been needed.

Jessica picked up her pace. “Come on. We have work to do.”

“Whatever I need to do today is an easy downhill slide from having my palm investigated by Killer’s mouth.”

“Muzzle,” she corrected, giggling. “And you’re probably right about that.”

We cleaned and straightened guest rooms while their occupants were on a trail ride with Jacob and Ashley. Twenty guests—a full complement, in spite of the chill November weather. When the guest rooms were finished, Jessica started dinner, and I cleaned the rest of the building interior. This day, like every day since graduating from IU in the spring, was light years away from what I envisioned.

Everyone returned mid-afternoon. After seeing to the horses with help from Jacob, Ashley, and Jessica, the guests burst into the chuck wagon laughing and cheerfully complaining of soreness. I served hot cocoa and soft drinks while the people who knew all things dude ranch finished up in the barn. Much of what happened here was beyond the scope of my position.

When the siblings entered the room full of guests, there was an obvious rise in enthusiasm. Every set of visitors relished the experience of playing cowboy for a few days while staying at the rustic dude ranch. Jacob’s handsome face was glowing with his enjoyment of the way he spent his work days.

When I handed him a cup of cocoa, he thanked me and put an arm around my shoulders. “Having you here with us on the Rocking H makes everything better, Hannah.”

Part of my reason for seeking this temporary job was to get to know Jacob, but so far that hadn’t worked out as planned. When we were together, he was funny, engaging, and flirtatious. But he was the same way with everyone else. I had fallen for him on sight, but months into our “relationship,” I was still nothing special to Jacob Hollingsworth.

The first time I met him was this summer when I was working at the Christmas tree farm. As new neighbors, he, Jessica, and Ashley paid a visit. He was tall and slim, in well-worn jeans and a pale blue Western shirt that matched his eyes. His tan was deep, and his Stetson white. To me, he was a perfect specimen of what a cowboy should look like. He even called my boss, Francie Standish Carrington, ma’am, which I thought was very brave. My mom feels old when people call her that, but I couldn’t tell what Francie thought about it.

It’s possible that Jacob’s sparkling eyes and brilliant smile helped soften the blow. They sure did things to me.

Now, one of the guests asked him a question. He crossed the room, squatted down next to her, and soon had everyone in the palm of his hand with his easy repartee and folksy stories.

I realized what I was doing wrong here. Being the support staff would never bring me close to Jacob. I needed to be part of the important goings-on of the ranch. My stomach clutched. That meant doing more than timidly feeding apple slices to horses. I needed to learn to ride.

You can pre-order Sweet Christmas Kisses 4 for only 99 cents and have it delivered to your reader on September 26^th.

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Magdalena Scott is a USA Today bestselling author of small town sweet romance and women's fiction. Learn more/connect by visiting her website.

 

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