The Christmas Salon

The year was 1814....

I love it when my side characters decide to form a story of their own - don't you? This one all takes place in the art world of Paris - where there was a lot going on.

The year 1814 was a pivotal period for Europe, especially for those familiar with Regency history. Following Napoleon’s abdication and exile to the island of Elba, the Treaty of Fontainebleau was signed by several European powers in April 1814. 

By November of the same year, the Congress of Vienna had convened, bringing together the leading statesmen of Europe to reshape the continent’s political landscape in the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars.

Although the British Crown and Parliament refrained from signing the Treaty of Fontainebleau - being skeptical of Napoleon’s willingness to abandon his imperial ambitions - they actively participated in the Congress of Vienna. One of their primary goals was to seek the restitution of the many works of art looted by the French during their conquests, which included treasures from some of Europe’s most renowned cultural centres, such as Rome, Florence, and Venice.

One of these plundered masterpieces was Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss, a neoclassical sculpture by Antonio Canova. Despite efforts to reclaim it, the piece has remained in the Louvre Museum to this day.

Cupid and Psyche: A Symbolic Love Story

The myth of Cupid and Psyche has endured through the ages as a profound allegory for love’s complexities. Psyche, symbolising the soul (often depicted as a butterfly), and Cupid, the god of love, represent both the physical and spiritual dimensions of romantic love. However, their journey towards eternal union is fraught with misunderstandings and trials, reflecting the struggles that lovers must overcome to achieve a deeper, more meaningful connection.

This timeless myth provided inspiration for my holiday reunion novella The Christmas Salon, where I explore similar themes of love and reunion.

The Christmas Salon

Canova’s evocative artwork served as the creative spark for The Christmas Salon. In this story, Henry, a British major and avid art collector, finds himself haunted by memories of Louisa, the woman he once knew. While visiting a gallery, he encounters a portrait that bears a striking resemblance to her. Concerned for her wellbeing—especially given that posing for such a portrait would have been scandalous for a society lady—Henry sets out to discover the truth behind her circumstances.

Writing about these secondary characters from Always a Princess has been a delightful endeavour, and I look forward to exploring their stories further. If there are any other characters you’d like to see more of, feel free to let me know. I have plenty of storylines in reserve!

SPECIAL OFFER:

For every review you post of The Christmas Salon, I'll send a free digital copy of of Always a Princess in the format of your choice.

How it works:

Simply get your hands on The Christmas Salon, read it and post your review - and tag me on IG, X, Facebook, Tiktok, Pinterest or Goodreads.

Happy Holiday Reading!

Your Money or Your Love (Happy Valentine's Day 💋)

 Last year, I released The King's Mistress of Valentine's Day. This year, I put a different kind of heroine out into the world - a young widow, with a wicked secret.

Stand & Deliver

https://books2read.com/u/3GzqEn

This charming second chance novella brings together a hero and heroine who were always meant to be.

​

Elliot Brock is devastated when the woman he loves marries his best friend, who happens to be the son of an earl. When the two men are sent to war in 1812, only Elliot survives. The earl's dying wish is to unite his friend with his widow but by the time Elliot returns to England, the countess is courting more than scandal. She's risking her neck – and her life – to preserve a legacy for her son.

To find a way round the family trustee with nefarious designs, Countess Olivia Essex takes on the persona of Black Peter, a notorious highwayman. With her stalwart mama as accomplice, she keeps the estate running with a minimum of staff and supplies, but the legend of Black Peter grows daily, and Olivia is running out of time. Soon, she must re-enter society and her midnight rides will be noticed.

When Colonel Brock finally returns from war, Olivia is both relieved and alarmed. Brock is too clever not to guess what's going on – and too attractive not to kiss. More than kiss… She'd better hold her nerve. She'd better not give way to distraction - especially when the man who's after Black Peter is also the man she loves.

No one ever said love was easy.

Here's your free extract:

“You handle your mount exceptionally well,” he said. “Though I expect no less from the daughter of one of the finest riders in the regiment.”

    Olivia laughed, lifting her reins. “The credit is due Old Hal,” she declared, patting her horse. “Papa trained him for Mama. He is the sweetest equine fellow who ever lived, and hopelessly obedient.”

    “A fine quality in a domestic horse,” Elliot agreed. “Though not in a battlefield horse. Are you certain the theft of your French horse is insignificant?”

    Olivia’s gloved hands rubbed at the leatherwork of her pommel. “I’ve not seen the estate accounts for some time,” she admitted at last. “The trustee won’t allow it.” She looked up, a sudden stiffness in her seat.

    “Everyone asks if I’m satisfied with the estate trustee, Colonel Brock.” She made an irritated sound in her throat. “The polite widow’s response is to smile and nod. Express my gratitude.” She turned away, her gaze roving over the woodlands until her glare found Castlewood’s Folly. “In truth, I cannot answer for his conduct.”

    “Do you doubt him?” Elliot asked, silently elated that his earlier suspicions were allayed.

    Olivia flexed her fingers. “I’m inclined to question a man who refuses to show me the estate figures. If all is well, why deny me?” 

    “His reticence is not reassuring.” Elliot followed the lady’s eyeline, staring at the folly. “You’ve reason enough to request his ledgers.”

    Olivia sighed. “Reason, but with no power to compel any disclosure. I’ve no proof of wrongdoing. Merely concerns, and – and,” she paused, gathering herself before forging rapidly on. “All my intuition tells me the trustee is funding his lifestyle at the expense of our tenancies.” Her passionate, burning stare collided into his. The effect was so alarming Elliot nearly closed his eyes. 

    Olivia seemed to sag in her saddle. “Do you think me quite mad? You must know that I’m not adept at hopeless obedience.” 

    Her falsely bright smile hurt to witness. Elliot stared into Olivia’s face for a long time, remembering a girl at a ball who saved a dance for a lowly captain. 

    “Hopeless obedience is for horses and dogs, Olivia. Not women.” He reached one hesitant, leather-clad palm towards her troubled face. When she didn’t protest, he cupped her soft cheek, still pink from their exertions. 

    “You’ve always had excellent instincts. Do not doubt them now.” He studied those chocolate eyes as though he might paint her. “My mother, and my aunts, left me with a healthy respect for women’s intuition. One of them made a scandalous career out of becoming mistress to a former Prime Minister. Her influence allowed me to attend Eton.”

    “Not your mama, obviously,” she murmured, cupping her palm over his hand holding her face.

    “Obviously.” Elliot’s gaze dropped to her mouth. 

    He forgot the hideous folly and his suspicions of the trustee in the fullness of this woman’s lower lip, dark pink and lush. He licked his own lips, shifting in his saddle as his thumb stroked her cheek. He swallowed as she angled her head upward, parting her lips until his mouth slid against hers, his tongue delving deeply into her warm, wet mouth. He revelled in her sigh as one daintily gloved arm reached up, grasping the lapel of his riding jacket, tugging him closer, demanding more of him. Elliot could barely keep himself from dragging them both to the ground in the most inelegant dismount imaginable, because he wanted her beyond reason. He’d admired her, desired her, for years but not like this. Nothing like this wild need threatening to take him over.

     He drew back, gasping, staring as the desire in her eyes doubled and redoubled beneath the heat of his gaze until her pupils disappeared into the melting chocolate of her iris and he doubted his ability to remain atop his mount.

    “Elliot,” she whispered, sliding her palm over his jaw as though committing the planes of his face to memory.

    Elliot couldn’t speak. He was afraid of what he might say, or not say, or stumble the declaration he intended to make three years ago at a ball, where his best friend might have witnessed his wedding…his best friend. The late earl. What was he doing, kissing a countess?

How about a discount?

Stand & Deliver is available for 99c until Sunday night, via this smashwords coupon: NZ4LN
For SweetnSexy Divas only! 

Happy Valentine's Day!

Love, Clyve XxX