Valentine Blog Hop!

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For my flash fiction surprise, I've attached a snippet from my upcoming Regency novella, "The Brunette Who Stole His Heart" which releases on February 16! Make sure to read all the way to the end to find out how to collect my Valentine’s Day gift to you, and don’t forget to comment on this post to be entered into the drawing for the Grand Prize gift card - a $75 value! The contest is open from sunrise on 14th February in New Zealand (noon on February 13 U.S. EST) until midnight on 14th February in Hawaii (or 5 AM February 15 U.S. EST). When the contest ends, we’ll collect all comments on all 15 blogs in the hop. We’ll draw one at random, and then announce the winner on our blogs! Good luck!

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Faith Albright protested, realizing that it wasn’t so much a “perfect plan” as her mistress claimed, but rather a disaster waiting to happen where more than just her position as ladies’ maid was at stake.

“Of course it is.” Lady Mercy Granville said from her dressing table. “Mother says all the time how much we resemble one another, what with our brown hair and eyes. We even have a similar height and build, and we’re the same age.” She shook her head. “Honestly, we could be cousins, or even sisters.”

“Perhaps. But we’re not twins,” Faith pointed out as she flopped on the bed, her pacing around the chamber having finally run its course.

Mercy sighed. “How many times must we go through this?” She got up and joined Faith. Taking her hand in hers, she said, “Great-Aunt Mary Ellen is at least eighty-seven, if a day, and hasn’t seen me in nearly five years. She generally spent most of her time in Bath taking the waters for her gout. I was only fifteen when I saw her last. No doubt her memory nor her eyesight are as sharp as they once were. Besides, it’s for a fortnight. Surely you can pretend to be me for that long? With Mother and Father on the continent for holiday the next two weeks, this little escape to Brighton is the only chance I’ll get to live a little before our betrothal is officially announced and I’m saddled to Viscount Westbrook for the rest of my days.” She rolled her eyes in disgust. “I don’t know why Father insists on keeping this ridiculous promise to a childhood friend when it’s mylife that hangs in the balance. So what if Malcolm Grant was a grand war hero who fought at Waterloo? I appreciate the sacrifices he’s made for England, but God only knows what he looks like now.” She gave a mock shudder. “What if he’s horribly disfigured from his injuries, or worse yet, old enough to be my grandfather? I daresay whenever I ask Father about him, he remains rather closemouthed on the matter saying I’ll find out soon enough.”

Faith silently admitted that she would despise being in Mercy’s shoes, to have someone control her life to such a degree that they would actually subject her to an arranged marriage, but then, spending one’s life in service wasn’t all that appealing either. Perhaps it would be nice to experience the other side of life for a change. At least she would be able to wear some of Mercy’s lovely gowns and dance the night away with a handsome stranger …

She shook her head to clear it from such mad inner ramblings. “My lady,” she began slowly. “You know I love you dearly, but I just can’t take the risk of meeting your intended, only to disappoint him. What if he changes his mind about marrying you?”

Mercy shrugged. “Then I’m free of a union I never wanted in the first place. But not to worry. He will adoreyou, just as I do. You never give yourself enough credit.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “For someone who is named Faith, you certainly don’t have enough of it.”

Faith sighed. “It’s one of my many weaknesses, I’m afraid.”

Mercy looked at her directly. “Haven’t you ever wanted to step out of your regular habits and routines and do something daring? Something bold?” When Faith would have opened her mouth, Mercy stopped her. “And don’t tell me that you’re worried about your position here. I told you that I wouldn’t allow you to be dismissed for something I coerced you to do, and I meant it.” She squeezed Faith’s hand. “You’re my best friend. I would perish without your friendship and loyalty.”

At last, Faith gave a long-suffering sigh. Mercy certainly had a talent for manipulation. “Very well. I’ll go to London.”

Mercy gave a squeal of delight and hugged her in a firm embrace. Faith, on the other hand, just looked toward the ceiling—and prayed.

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