New Book "Isabella's Heart" Coming Soon

My new book "Isabella's Heart" will be out the first of the year. Here is a small taste of what is to come. Pass it on to friends you know who like a good Adventure Romance Novel. And thank you for your encouragement and support. Prelogue Spring 1787 Dublin, Ireland I grew up in a loving home, overlooking the Bay of Biscay, in France. Our lavish home and lands were awarded to Father for services rendered to the crown, during the Seven Years War, a battle fought throughout Europe for political domination. My brother, Charlie and I were blessed to grow up in this loving home, with plenty of sunshine, sand and room to run free. Of course we had the normal teachers, siblings and parents who occasionally tried to come between us, but Charlie and I always managed to thwart their best efforts. Charlie was named after my mother’s brother, who died at the age of five, when she was an infant. I was simply named after a beloved grandmother of my fathers. As twins born of one womb, I often felt as if we were of one mind. I would think of something and Charlie would know exactly what I was thinking and vice versa. We had a strange connection that gave us an advantage over other children. I always knew where to find Charlie, even when he didn’t want to be found. In turn, Charlie always knew how I was feeling, even when I insisted that I was fine, when I truly wasn’t. We each shared an intuition about the other that some felt was abnormal or not of this earth, and yet I never gave the matter much thought, because this was just the way our minds worked. I guess I always knew we were different from other children and I was alright with that, because I considered it a gift we were given, and not a curse. Charlie was very handsome, with dark auburn hair like Mother’s and striking blue eyes like our father. He was blessed with a natural athletic ability and physical appeal that drove all the young ladies around him to distraction. I, on the other hand, had dark hair like father, with streaks of red running through it that would show up when I spent too much time in the sun. My eyes were the same jade green as Mother’s, but from time to time, tiny flecks of blue would appear, when I was distraught or scared. I was also blessed with my mother’s curves, which I found vexing when I wanted to keep up with Charlie, or run free through the countryside, masquerading as a boy. Eventually I learned to use my God-given gifts to my advantage, when it came to my male counterparts. I found that it was infinitely easy to sway them to my way of thinking, when it suited me, by simply pouting or giving them a well practiced look. Charlie said it was the devil in me that made me so good at it. But I say it was the need to survive in a male-dominated world that made it necessary for me to resort to such tactics. Our parents had a strong loving bond that often manifested itself in ways that embarrassed Charlie and me. We especially despised their public displays of affection when they were anywhere near us. We would make funny faces and act as if the life was being sucked from our very souls. This was done in hopes of distracting them, but it never seemed to work. Mother and Father would ignore our antics, choosing instead to stare longingly into each other’s eyes and laugh like kids sharing a private joke. Mother referred to us as her little angels when we were born. Yet it didn’t take long for us to earn reputations as petits diables, titles we earned because of our devious or creative minds. It really is a matter of perspective. We had a way of coming up with new and innovative ways of tormenting our younger siblings, Honore’ and Nicolette. Honore’ was named after Father’s best friend and confidant, who had become a permanent fixture in our home. We affectionately referred to our little brother as Honore’ the Younger, a nickname he despised for some reason, so we never missed the opportunity to make our digs. Honore’ was three years our junior, while Nicolette was two years younger than Honore’. Nicolette was a pleasant child, but a bit quiet in comparison to the rest of us, and it often felt wrong to torment her as we did. But Charlie and I dealt out our brand of torture to our two siblings equally. Unfortunately for Honore’ and Nicolette, Charlie and I had a little sibling rivalry of our own going on, and it knew no bounds. When I say sibling rivalry, I mean we both tried to out-do the other, when it came to annoying our younger siblings. That was, until that dreadful day when our parents came to a decision, that would change everything. They had decided that our education would be better served abroad, at separate boarding schools in London. We were told it was in our best interest, that we needed to develop healthy relationships with other young men and women outside of our small, but intimate circle of two. To say that my life was turned upside down would be an understatement. I remember breaking down and clinging to Charlie as if my world had just fallen apart. This did nothing to sway our parents’ decision. I felt off kilter and my life took on a new direction altogether, one fueled by anger and general mistrust of all people not Charlie. I will say that the unfortunate experience did teach me a few things that came in handy later on. I learned to think and to do everything for myself. I became strong, self-sufficient and independent minded. There were some harsh critics among my peers who called it something else altogether. They said I was tough, inflexible, and far too stubborn for my own good. There were even those who claimed I possessed a few severe character flaws that would prove to be of detriment to me later in life. I was deaf to their criticisms, as it didn’t serve my purpose at the time. My challenges and problems stemmed more from a broken heart, than anything else. I felt incomplete, as if a part of my vital organ had been ripped from my chest, while it was still beating. Most children our age would have clung to their parents and pleaded for them to reconsider, or perhaps chosen to resign themselves to their fate, as Charlie had done, obediently stepping into the waiting carriage and graciously waving farewell as it pulled away. It would be safe to say that I was not like most children. As I looked into my parents’ eyes that day, I vowed I would never forgive them for their betrayal. Then I took it one step further, like the proverbial knife to the heart, some would claim. I swore to them both, that I would never again darken their door-step. I was fearless. But I think we are all fearless, until the unthinkable happens. Straightening my spine and drying my tears, I climbed into my waiting carriage, alone, with nothing but my sheer determination to keep me warm. I steeled myself against the urge to glance back at my two appalled parents, standing there in the drive, clinging to one another. I’m sure the consensus between them was that I would come to my senses soon enough, that I was merely being a dramatic sixteen-year-old girl and that the entire matter would blow over quickly enough and all would be forgiven with time. Instead, my resolve was only strengthened with each passing mile, and determination became like the air I breathed in and out that day. To say that I was shaped into the person I’ve become could be traced back to that one defining moment in time would be a valid but far too simple explanation. So now I tell you my story, as I am able to recall it.

(I hope you enjoyed what you read and pass this on to your friends you know, who enjoy a good Adventure Romance Novel.)