It's A CHRISTMAS CAROL meets THE NATIVITY in Jane Austen's England!
I had a lot of fun writing his story. Yes, I took a few liberties, but I just want you to know that I am a fervent believer in the True Meaning of Christmas. I hope that shines through in this story. If you are looking for a warm, feel-good Christmas-time romance novella, then let me introduce you to my earl, Jacob Myserleigh, and his unexpected passenger, Miss Carole Meriwether. They're about to learn that true love is definitely the greatest gift this wonderful season can offer.
Jacob Myserleigh, the Earl of Bahumburgh, thinks he's merely delivering Christmas gifts to his sister. His simple trip home turns into a madcap journey filled with gold, frankincense, myrrh... even bedraggled shepherds. A beautiful young woman helps show him the way and the most unexpected thing happens--there might be no room at the inn, but he finds space in his heart for true love.
Here's an excerpt:
He cleared his throat loudly.
The young lady inside the horse stall looked up, startled. She could not have seemed more out of place, sitting primly on an overturned bucket while a rotund gray pony nibbled the straw flower on her trim bonnet. How did a Mayfair miss end up locked in this Cheapside mews with a pony? Why on earth wasn't she shouting for help? Surely someone had noticed her.
"Do you need some help, miss?" he asked.
"Er, no thank you, sir," she replied then glanced around nervously when he continued to stare. After a moment's silence, she spoke again. "But you appear to be confused. Do you need some help?"
"I was... well, I think I must be in the wrong place."
"Where are you supposed to be?"
He looked back at the letter. Yes, his sister's list definitely directed him to this place. The next gift he was to collect ought to be waiting for him here. But he'd expected a shop of some sort, not a dirty horse stall with a captive woman inside.
"I was given this address and instructed to meet with a man named Carl."
"Carl? I don't know any Carl, sir, and I've been tending the pony here every day for two weeks."
"You come to tend the pony often? Dressed like this?"
"No, of course not. But today I'm supposed to meet someone so I thought I should appear more presentable."
"I see. Well, good luck with that. I should probably continue my search for Mr. Meriwether."
"For whom, sir?"
"Meriwether. Carl Meriwether."
Now she looked as confused as he felt. Her delicate features screwed into a frown and she chewed her lip.
"I am Carole Meriwether, sir."
"Is Carl your relative, then?"
"No, sir. I don't know who... oh, good heavens! You aren't the Earl of Bahumburgh, are you?"