As part of our guest blogger event this week we introduce Maggi Andersen!
A bit about Maggi:
She is an Australian mother of three and a grandmother of one and had this to say about herself:
I write historical romance and romantic suspense. I live with my husband, a lawyer in the countryside outside Sydney. We have recently moved there from an apartment in the city and now enjoy the bird life, the ducks in the stream at the bottom of our garden, and the neighbor’s chickens that supply us with wonderful eggs. I began writing at about eight, and always wanted to be a writer. I studied for a BA in English and then completed my Master of Arts in Creative Writing with this end in view. My first book was a romantic suspense novel set in England. I found this hard to sell so I sat down and wrote a historical romance and found I loved writing them. That was two years ago and I now have ten books published! I was influenced by Mary Stewart, Georgette Heyer and Victoria Holt years ago, and I guess these fabulous writers have stayed with me.
My January release, NIGHT GARDEN encompasses all those elements that inhabit my stories. It is a gothic Victorian with a touch of the paranormal. It was inspired by my mother’s painting – she was an award winning artist-and she also picked the title. Sadly, she passed away before the book came out.
NEW RELEASE: NIGHT GARDEN, a historical romance set in Victorian Cornwall, England.
By Maggi Andersen
Laura Palmer marries the mysterious baron, Lord Nathaniel Lanyon, and goes to live in his ancient home in Cornwall. A dark cloud hovers over Wolfram. The death of Nathaniel’s first wife has never been solved, and some of the villagers believe him responsible. Struggling to understand the distant man she married, Laura tries to uncover the truth. With each stone unturned, she comes closer to danger.
Available from New Concepts Publishing: http://newconceptspublishing.com/maggiandersenbooks.html
Laura came down the stairs as Barker opened the front door to a late guest. A broad-shouldered man well over six feet tall entered the hall. His black hair curled over his collar, reminding Laura of Heathcliff from one of her favorite books. She halted on the bottom step, one hand on the banister. He studied her as he divested himself of gloves, coat, top hat, white silk scarf and cane, into the waiting arms of the butler.
"I'm Lord Lanyon." He came forward and offered her his hand. "I apologize for staring."
Laura stepped down onto the marble floor and gave him her gloved hand. She craned her neck and looked up at him. It was not something she was used to, being quite tall herself. "Laura Palmer."
"So, you are the young lady of the house." His full-lipped mouth lifted in a smile.
His powerful build and impressive height intimidated her. Grey eyes studied her approvingly.
Laura gave a polite smile. She smoothed her yellow crepe gown, regretting she hadn't worn the pink. "Father's party is in the drawing room. I believe the guests have finished dining."
"Yes. I am disgracefully late."
"It wasn't meant to be a criticism." Laura motioned down the corridor and they followed the butler as he led the way.
Lord Lanyon smiled down at her. "I take my medicine quite happily when it's delivered in such a fine package."
Laura's eyebrows rose at his self-assured tone. "I dislike flattery on such short acquaintance, sir."
A drone of conversation came within the drawing room. The butler threw open the doors, and Lord Lanyon turned to her, a gleam warming the grey depths of his eyes. "Then I shall store my compliments until next we meet."
Curious as to what her father might want with him, she said, "You plan to call on us again, my lord?"
"You shall see more of me, Laura. May call you by your given name?"
"You already have." The sound of her first name on his lips unsettled her strangely. She crossed the large expanse of thick carpet through the milling guests. He had said her name quite deliberately, of that she was sure. He toyed with her, and she had reacted. What would a man such as he make of her parent's home? She looked around her. Everything was so new. Mother had ruthlessly decorated the reception rooms in coffee and cream. A pair of chiffoniers displayed an abundance of porcelain and coloured glass. Framed prints covered the wall-papered walls. At the windows, white muslin curtains stirred below their scalloped velvet valances, and a gentle breeze wafted around the smoke from the gentleman's pipes and cigars in the smoking room. Ladies in their organdie, taffeta and silk gowns, their hats trimmed with plumes, ribbon and flowers, chatted on the cream serpentine-backed upholstered sofas, flanking the fireplace. Others perched on uncomfortable antique chairs. The rest stood about in groups, through which wandered the waiters, refilling glasses.
Laura found her father holding court among the ferns and orchids in the conservatory where the smokers had been exiled, and left Lord Lanyon with him. Walking back through the room, she greeted guests as her mind stubbornly refused to remove him from her thoughts. Finally, her gaze was drawn back to him. She met his eyes from across the room and turned away hurriedly.
"Thank you." She took the glass from him, glancing past him at the quill of feathers from her mother's straw turban bobbing above the crowd. Laura raised the glass to her lips. "Mother won't approve of this." She took a long sip. The bubbles tickled her nose and the alcohol threaded its way through her body, warming as it went.