Guest Author, Emily Murdoch, with a Special Offer
Have you ever wanted to work with an author to craft a story?
Regency author Emily Murdoch is offering just that if you support her Kickstarter campaign to launch her new eight book Ravishing Regencies series. If you pledge £19/$25 to her Kickstarter campaign, you’ll get eight ebooks, a signed paperback, an exclusive limited edition bookmark AND a digital surprise!
There are rewards for just £4/$5, and opportunities to name characters and make plot decisions, so make sure you grab your rewards before they run out!
It’s an intriguing idea. Click here for more information.
Guest Excerpt: Emily Murdoch’s Lost with a Lord
Regency romance author Emily Murdoch has just launched her campaign for new series Ravishing Regencies, and has revealed an exclusive excerpt from the first book in the series, Lost with a Lord. Enjoy!
The Scene Set-up: After accidentally meeting as they wander into a riot on the dockyards of London, Lord George Northmere and Miss Florence Capria take refuge in an abandoned room – and try to ignore the growing passion rising between them . . .
A giggle escaped her, and George unconsciously returned the smile. “What is so amusing?”
Florence smiled joyfully. “You must admit, it is rather ridiculous. I am lost with a Lord!”
His deep laugh joined hers. “It is an unusual circumstance, I will admit – but if I was going to be punched, chased by an angry mob, and barricaded inside a small and dingy room, I would not want to do it with anyone else.”
His words surprised him: they had risen, unbidden, and escaped him before he was able to put any censoring thought into them. Completely truthful, they made Florence laugh all the more, her shoulders shaking and her bosom rising in a way that made his stomach lurch again.
“That is remarkably comforting,” she said quietly, still smiling. “You are very unlike most men, Lord George.”
“George, then.” Florence smiled at him. Her blue gown, torn along the skirts and ripped by one shoulder, revealed soft skin glistening in the firelight.
George swallowed. This was not the time to lose his head; Florence had made her opinion perfectly clear.
“It is so strange,” said Florence, musingly. “It is almost like we have known each other for quite some time, do not you think? We have discussed topics I never seem to get to with my own acquaintances.”
George nodded. “How many friends actually speak like this; for hours at a time? No, it is usually five minutes before a card game, or ten minutes between a dance.”
Was her breathing faster, or was it just his wild imagination, trying to take him back to that heady moment.
“I feel as though I have known you for years, George,” she said, her tongue tripping over his name. “As though we have shared stories for decades, as though you know all of my most intimate secrets.”
“I suppose that, to some extent, you do,” he admitted. “No one else knows why I came to the dockyards tonight, and I doubt whether many of your acquaintances here know any details about your mother.”
She shivered, and George’s heart beat faster. Everything about her was attracting him to her, and she did not even know it. it was to be sweet torture then, staying in this cage of a room with her for hours on end, unable to touch, unable to taste –
“Thank you,” said Florence as she shivered once more. “I like you, my lord, though you may find it strange to hear that. You are a good man.”
Her eyes flickered down to him as she leaned forwards slightly on the chair. “And a handsome man, I will admit. Though of course, you already know that.”
If she had not spoken, George surely would not have acted. If those words had not left her lips, those pink and welcoming lips, then surely he would have been able to restrain himself.
But she did speak, and those words of honesty, tinged with desire, were enough to drive him over a cliff face he had known he was dancing too close to the edge.
Gathering up his discarded greatcoat in one hand, George moved forward onto his knees before her.
“You are cold,” he said in a low voice, brimming with passion. “Here.”
In a swift movement, he swung the greatcoat around her shoulders, and then clasped her hands in her own.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes staring deeply into his own.
George hesitated for a moment. Once he stepped over this line, he would know; he would feel her reaction, she would not need to spell it out in words. Either he was welcome, or . . .
“No,” she said quietly.
Desperate to find out what happens next? Make sure you support the campaign and gain yourself rewards: from signed paperbacks, free audiobooks, and even naming a character in the series!
Emily Murdoch is a historian and writer. Throughout her career so far she has examined a codex and transcribed medieval sermons at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, designed part of an exhibition for the Yorkshire Museum, worked as a researcher for a BBC documentary presented by Ian Hislop, and worked at Polesden Lacey with the National Trust. She has a degree in History and English, and a Masters in Medieval Studies, both from the University of York. Emily has a medieval series, a Regency novella series, and an 1840s Western series published, and is currently working on several new projects.