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?"
