Today I am happy to introduce you to such a lovely lady and talented author, Arabella Sheen. I met Arabella through the Romantic Novelists’ Association and it has been a pleasure to learn more about her work. Today she will be sharing the news about her latest sweet Regency release…Westbury.
Chit-Chat from Arabella Sheen…
Lizzie has asked me to tell her readers a little bit about me…so here goes.
Before, in a previous life, I left school with a few GCSE’s and trained as a nurse. Having qualified as a General Nurse, I then specialized in theatre nursing and moved to Holland in the Netherlands, where, for nearly twenty years, I lived, worked and breathed hospitals. I loved it. The work, the people, the place…everything. It was a brilliant life experience and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. The challenge of solving health problems whilst helping sick people at the same time was amazing. Although hard work, nursing is a rewarding job and one that I would recommend to anyone. Sadly, due to personal health reasons and the need for family support, I returned to England and my career track changed completely.
By day, I’m now employed as a chef in a busy international hotel and by night, I’m pounding the keys on the laptop, working on my latest work-in-progress.
Writing has always held a fascination for me. I have drawers, shelves, cupboards, and bookcases, all filled and covered with books. Anywhere and everywhere a book can be stored, you’ll find one. And it was simply a step from the longing to read romance novels, that the urge to write books evolved. The creation of stories has always captivated me.
I was fortunate enough to have been born and raised in Clifton, Bristol, England, (where I now live), and grew up surrounded by beautiful classical Georgian architecture. The romance of the Regency era has always held me spellbound and my imagination runs riot whenever I think about what could have happened behind some of the doors and in some of the buildings I walk by on a daily basis.
But, it was while travelling to a RNA Chapter meeting which was being held with fellow authors in Lacock, a historical village in the heart of Wiltshire, England, (where Cranford, Pride and Prejudice, Downton Abby, not to mention Harry Potter, were filmed), that the urge to write Westbury evolved.
BOOK BLURB: Westbury
Can Miss Georgina Morton surrender her independence and accept the Duke’s love?
Miss Georgina Morton, at the age of four-and-twenty, with a modest annual income of four hundred pounds, believes she has no need of a husband and can manage quite nicely without one. Yet within a matter of weeks, she’s betrothed to Giles Glentworth, the Sixth Duke of Westbury, and bound for Regency London.
Set in rural Wiltshire and elegant, fast-paced London…a runaway ward, a shooting at mid-night, and a visit to fashionable Almack’s, are only a few of the adventures Georgina enjoys while falling for the Corinthian charms of the Duke.
The Marquis was a fine figure of a man. Handsome enough, with a crop of thick, raven-black hair swept back from his brow in the style known as a Brutus. His features, although not rugged, were strong and compelling. And his penetrating eyes, by startling contrast, were of a cool steely grey that was mesmerising. But his good looksand manly attractiveness did not sway her from the fact that his gentleman-likebehaviour wasn’t up to scratch or that he was shouting, giving her a dressing down in public.
Flustered and on the point of apologising for her hasty action, Georgina remained silent. When she heard his angry words and the tone of voice in which he spoke, she pointedly ignored his outburst and concentrated solely on straightening her lopsided bonnet. But when his horses moved, restlessly shaking their manes for attention, her bonnet, which had by now fallen from her head and dangled by its ribbons down her back, was completely forgotten.
Drawing near to where the high-perch phaetonstood, and with total disregard for her safety, she’d gone to the front of the carriage, taken the horses’ bridles in her gloved hands, and tried to calm them. Stroking their forelocks, she’d spoken soothing words before fixing a steely glare of disdain upon their owner.
Never before had she been more thankful for all the hours she’d spent in her bedchamber as a young girl, standing in front of the mirror, practising and perfecting the art of delivering the harshest of stares imaginable. Any lesser man than the Marquis would have baulked at herglower, but her unflinching look seemed not to affect him.
Westbury – Ballrooms, Cotillions and Almack’s
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