Award-Winning Author Laurie Benson

ONE NIGHT UNDER THE MISTLETOE

Convenient Christmas Brides Anthology

A convenient arrangement

Three festive Regency romances…

In The Captain’s Christmas Journey by Carla Kelly, Captain Everard is escorting Verity to her governess job—and for propriety’s sake that means a convenient engagement! In Louise Allen’s The Viscount’s Yuletide Betrothal, Eleanor advertises for a “suitable” gentleman to pose as her betrothed over Christmas. And in Laurie Benson’s novella, Juliet’s One Night Under the Mistletoe leads to a marriage of convenience with handsome former love Lord Montague…

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  Turning to face Juliet, Monty held her wedding ring between his fingers and pushed aside his thoughts of it rolling across the drawing-room floor. Suddenly, she shoved her hand behind her back and leaned close to his ear.

  ‘We need to talk,’ she whispered to him.

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes, now,’ she whispered back impatiently. ‘Before you put that ring on my finger, there is something we need to discuss.’

  He stepped back and shifted his glance between her and the expectant vicar. ‘Lady Juliet and I will be but a moment,’ he said to the man. Ignoring the questioning looks from those around them, he took Juliet by the hand and led her out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and began pacing in front of him. He waited for her to stop, wondering what she could possibly have to say to him now that she couldn’t have said to him in the last few days. Finally, she stopped in front of him.

  ‘I can’t do this to you. I thought I could, but I can’t.’

  ‘What are you doing exactly?’

  ‘Marrying you, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ He rubbed his lips to prevent himself from uttering the curse that was about to come out. ‘Juliet, you were the one who said in your letter to me that aside from arranging where we would live and your financial settlement, there was nothing we could say to one another that we had not already said. I respected your wishes. And now you want to talk?’

  ‘Do you love her?’

  It took a moment for his brain to process her question. ‘Love who?’

  ‘Miss Fellsworth.’

  ‘Miss Fellsworth? Why on earth do you think I love Miss Fellsworth?’

  ‘There had been talk about the two of you at the ball.’

  ‘Do you always believe the gossip you hear?’

  ‘You were going to meet with her in the library. You were having an assignation with her.’

  ‘For a kiss. I was to meet her that night for a kiss. Just because I wanted to kiss her does not mean I am in love with her.’

  She pushed him.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘I am well aware you kiss women you do not love. You do not have to remind me of that!’

Would there ever be a time that Juliet would let his actions of the past remain there? Her mere presence was a constant reminder of how much he had hurt her. It wasn’t something he was proud of.  It wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do. While he had fancied himself in love with her for a few days, he had come to realise it was just heated passion for a woman he was very fond of. Nothing more. Logic told him that he barely knew her.

  ‘Juliet, what is it you are trying to say to me that couldn’t wait until after we recited our vows?’

  ‘I can’t marry you. I won’t be responsible for coming between you and Miss Fellsworth. I know Society dictates that we marry, but I won’t do it if you are in love with her.’ She put her hand on her stomach and seemed to be trying to steady her breathing.

  ‘Do you need to sit? We could find another chair for you,’ he said, glancing around the corridor.

  ‘I do not need to sit down. I need you to go in there and tell the vicar we will not be getting married while I go and lie down…in my room…if I can find it in this massive house your family calls a cottage.’

  Rubbing her brow, she turned to leave him, but he pulled her back gently by the arm. ‘I am not in love with Miss Fellsworth,’ he said in a reassuring tone.

  Her amber-coloured eyes searched his. It was evident when she realised that he was telling her the truth because her expression softened. ‘Are you certain you have no wish to marry Miss Fellsworth?’

  ‘I’m certain.’

  They stared at one another, both unsure what to do next. They were alone in the corridor, standing close enough to one another that he could smell her faint lavender scent. He had always wanted to get her into bed to find out if that scent originated from her skin or her clothes.

  Thinking of her in bed caused his gaze to drop to her lips and he remembered that time he had kissed her…the only time. No other kiss had compared to the one they shared that day. And he had made it his quest to kiss as many women as it took to find someone who could give him that same experience. Not one of those other kisses ever came close.

  Just as he considered kissing her once more, she took a step back. The rise and fall of her chest let him know she had felt that pull that had always been between them, as well. She knew he had wanted to kiss her and, for the briefest of moments, he thought she might have wanted him to.

  ‘I still do not like you or forgive you for what you did.’ She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Oh, very well, come along, Monty, if we have to get married, we might as well do it now.’

  There was a time that he thought the beautiful creature before him, in the white-muslin gown with the blue-satin ribbon under her breasts, was the most romantic person he knew.

  He didn’t think that any more.

ONE WEEK TO WED

The Sommersby Brides #1

releases November 1st

One stolen night…
…leads to unexpected wedding vows!

Widowed Lady Charlotte Gregory believes she’ll never marry again after losing her husband. Until meeting dashing Lord Andrew Pearce brings her respectable, lonely world back to vibrant life! Left alone one night, they give in to their desires only to find their secret passion leads to shock, scandal…and a sudden marriage of convenience!

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LAURIE BENSON is an award-winning author who writes flirty and frisky historical romances. She began her writing career as an advertising copywriter, where she learned more than you could ever want to know about hot dogs and credit score reports. Her novel AN UNEXPECTED COUNTESS was voted Harlequin's 2017 Hero of the Year by readers.

When she isn't at her laptop avoiding laundry, Laurie can be found browsing antique shops, going on ridiculously long hikes, or sitting in her car on the school pickup line. She lives with her husband and two sons in a house filled with testosterone--even her bunny is a boy.

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THE Q&A

ANGI: How often to you get lost in a story?

LAURIE: Whenever I’m writing them.

ANGI: What’s your favorite thing about your book’s hero?

LAURIE: I find a sense of humor extremely sexy in a guy, so all my heroes have one.

ANGI: What’s your favorite movie of all time?

LAURIE: I’m a big Nancy Meyers fan and The Holiday, which she wrote and directed, is my absolute favorite movie. I’ve watched it over 25 times. There are so many clever and memorable lines in that screenplay, and the characters are wonderfully developed. And, those sets are stunning!

ANGI: What’s your perfect day?

LAURIE: My perfect day would have to include being with the people I care about, either on the beach or on a hiking trail near the top of a mountain.

ANGI: Salad or soup?

LAURIE: Hmmm. I love them both and frequently have a soup and salad combo for lunch. I suppose if I had to choose one, it would depend on how cold it was outside.

ANGI: Would you put yourself in a Fairy Tale or Action Adventure?

NAME: I don’t even have to think about this one. Put me in an Action Adventure movie. I want to be the one running across roof tops, driving the car in the car chase, and doing round kicks at the bad guys. I’d probably throw my back out at some point, but I’d have a blast doing it. I love the pacing of Action Adventure movies and tend to include a bit of adventure and action into the historical romances that I write.

ANGI: Favorite date night…fancy or at home? 

LAURIE: I generally like cozy nights at home, but for a date night there is nothing quite like going out in a gown with your guy in a tux.

ANGI: Champagne or Soda?

LAURIE: Champagne, hands down.

ANGI: Geek or Jock?

LAURIE: Can I have a geek who is also physically fit?

ANGI’s GOTTA ASK:  Where is your favorite writing place & why?

LAURIE’S GOTTA ANSWER:  There are actually two places where I write. The first place is at my desk in my writing nook. However, when I’m suffering with writer’s block, I’ll often take my laptop and go for a drive. Driving seems to stimulate the creative place in my brain and I’ve been known to write while sitting in my car in the parking lots of the parks in my area. In fact, I wrote half of my fourth book while sitting in my car.

UP NEXT for LAURIE:

HIS THREE-DAY DUCHESS

The Sommersby Brides #2

Releases February 1st

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PREVIOUSLY RELEASED by LAURIE:

AN UNEXPECTED COUNTESS

The Sommersby Brides #1

Read a little, Buy the book

AN UNCOMMON DUKE

Secret Lives of the Ton #2

Read a little, Buy the book

AN UNSUITABLE DUCHESS

Secret Lives of the Ton #1

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LAURIE is giving away a copy of ONE WEEK TO WED to one lucky winner. Autographed copy to U.S. resident. Digital copy if international.

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Your host, Angi Morgan

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LAURIE WANTS TO KNOW:  In my latest release, Juliet and Monty find themselves getting married at an English country estate during Christmas. What’s your favorite season for a wedding and why?

Get Lost In A History-Inspired Collection Featuring Two New Stories From E.E. Burke

Purchase Today

No city personifies the American experience quite like Kansas City. This year, our local writing organization took on a big project -- to write history-inspired stories about our hometown, weaving fact with fiction and our own unique experiences and outlooks. The result is KANSAS CITY STORY.

This rich collection takes the reader from the muddy banks of the Mighty Mo to the gleaming glass and steel of the Sprint Center. The journey highlights memorable moments in our river city's intriguing history, beginning as a trading settlement in 1821. Written by local authors, this anthology covers 20 decades that reflect not just the story of a city, but also the story of America. 

I loved researching Kansas City and discovering historical gems and seeing what different writers touched on in their stories. This was a collaborative project with local authors who are writing buddies, friends, and mentors. Contributors include USA Today bestselling authors and several authors who are experiencing the thrill of debuting their first published works.

Bobbie (Sunny) Cole, E. E. Burke, Cheryl Rabin, Laura Stapleton, Michelle Grey, Gwen Duzenberry, Madonna Bock, Amy Harden, Darlene Nicholson, D. L. Rogers, Sally Berneathy, Alfie Thompson, G. A. Edwards, Diana Day-Admire

Find out more about the book here, along with purchase links: 
www.midwestromancewriters.com/home/kansas-city-story/

History Inspired

My two stories, which cover two tumultuous decades, are inspired by actual events and historical figures. The Songbird -- set 1863 -- is based on an old newspaper article about an imprisoned singer and a conflicted officer. The Orphan and The Outlaw sees the James/Younger robbery at the Kansas City Exposition in 1872 through the eyes of an orphaned newspaper boy where his chance meeting with an outlaw leads to an unexpected outcome.

Here's an excerpt from The Songbird (1860s)

September 1863, City of Kansas, Union Hotel

Alice Nash put her shoulder against the window frame and tugged with all her might. She’d picked away at the layers of paint until the window sash moved a little. With great effort, she inched it upward. At last a breeze swept in.

On the street three stories below, bluecoats were stationed in front of the hotel and on every corner she could see. If she tried escaping by this route, she’d either be shot or fall to her death which was probably the only reason the window hadn’t been nailed shut.

She straightened and wiped away the perspiration inching down her temple.

It took more ingenuity to get to an itch beneath her bosom. She loosened the strings of her corset and scratched.

Ahhh.

Mama would have a conniption fit if she were here. Thank God, she wasn’t.

She’d been locked in this hot room for three unbearable weeks. She could expire from the heat or strip down to her unmentionables.

Propriety wouldn’t keep her alive.

At least with the window open she had fresh air and a place to sit other than on a smelly cot, the only thing the Yankees had left besides the chamber pot.

She had nothing to read to pass the time, not even an old newspaper.

Her only human contact was with a wizened black cook who acted too scared to speak when she delivered a thin soup once a day. Did the Federals plan to starve her or kill her with boredom?

She’d been charged with treason for nothing more than being loyal to her family. From what little she could find out, a military tribunal would decide her fate.

No justice could be expected from that court.

She swallowed a tight wad of tears. She had only one way to fight this boredom and despair. Thank God the Federals couldn’t confiscate her vocal chords.

Alice leaned against the window frame and began to sing.

“We loved each other then, Lorena, more than we ever dared to tell; and what we might have been, Lorena, had but our loving prospered well….”

The melancholy ballad suited her mood.

Once she’d sung for audiences who’d cheered her. Now she sang to the blue sky and drifting clouds. Singing gave her joy. It was, in a sense, her only way to escape.

The lock clicked.

Alice leapt to her feet and crossed her arms over her exposed chest as the door swung open.

When a soldier stepped inside, she flushed with mortification.

The man’s eyes went wide, registering surprise. Then he performed an immediate about-face. “Beg pardon, miss, I didn’t realize you’d be—

“What did you expect? That I’d be sitting in here knitting to pass the time or lounging, fully dressed, awaiting your pleasure?”

“Miss Nash, forgive me for intruding on your privacy.” The Yankee’s low, smooth baritone seemed intended to be comforting. But she couldn’t help notice he was the only other person in the room, and he’d shut the door.

“I have no privacy here.” She snatched up her satin skirt from across the bed, pulled it over her head and tied it around her waist then fumbled with her jacket. Her hands shook as she did up the buttons.

She was at this man’s mercy. Who would come to her aid if she screamed? Another of his kind?

The intruder stood with his back to her, holding his head and shoulders erect. The auburn hair curling softly from beneath his hat over his collar made him appear youthful and rakish. His dark blue officer’s jacket and light blue trousers hung on his lanky frame. He might’ve filled out the uniform at one time. He still cut an intimidating figure.

Many of the officers stationed in the City of Kansas lived at the Union Hotel. She assumed he was one of them. Seeing as she’d had no contact with him before now, she could only assume why he’d come to her room. Her assumption didn’t provide the slightest reassurance.

“I am…” She refused to say decent. That would imply she had acted improperly, not him. “I am covered.”

When he turned around, she caught her breath with surprise. Handsome wasn’t exactly the right word. Compelling came closer. With his prominent brow, sharp features and golden-brown eyes, he reminded her of the red-tailed hawks that hunted over her family’s fields.

She remained as still and alert as a mouse when a predator’s winged shadow crossed its path. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Lieutenant Cyrus Leyton.” The officer removed his hat and smoothed his hand over his hair, the only thing about him that appeared soft. His keen gaze shifted to the open window behind her. “I hope you aren’t considering exiting that way.”

“If so, I’d need wings.”

“You sing beautifully. It’s easy to imagine that you might turn into a songbird and fly away.”

Flattery. Did he think that would gain her trust? He would be sorely disappointed.

“If only it were that easy, I would be long gone, soaring over you and your comrades, and I’d leave a reminder of my presence not quite as pleasant as a song.”

His fleeting smile told her he’d understood her meaning.

She released her breath slowly. He hadn’t taken offense at the suggestion she’d like to poop on his head. But he still hadn’t stated his purpose in visiting her. She wasn’t out of the woods yet. “Are you here to tell me singing is now a crime?”

“Never. Music is one of the few things we all can agree on.” His ardent assertion plucked some sympathetic string on her heart.

Her mind conjured an image of the lieutenant squatted beside a fire in the dead of night, listening to strains of music drifting from a camp somewhere out in the darkness beyond his line of vision. The sounds might stir a sense of kinship with men he would kill the next day.

Alice turned away, momentarily overcome. She went to the window and looked out at the bright blue sky which defied the drab, dirty, divided town below. Her heart ached for more than freedom. She yearned for peace.

Here's an excerpt from The Orphan and The Outlaw (1870s):

Three men on horseback rode full-tilt into the fairgrounds, waving handguns in the air. Fire and smoke spewed from the barrels, accompanied by more loud bangs. Their faces were covered with dark bandanas and only the shadows of their eyes were visible beneath broad-brimmed hats. 

All over Kansas City, men carried guns. But none would fire them off in a crowded fair. Well, maybe drunk cowboys.

“Clear out,” one of the men shouted. He shot his gun into the air again to make his point. He immediately replaced that gun with another pistol from one of two gun belts crisscrossing his buttoned-up jacket. 

Nope, he wasn’t no rowdy cowboy. An outlaw, maybe.

The mounted attackers rode right up in front of Bran. 

Two ladies nearby hiked their full skirts and ran away screaming. One of the farmers grabbed a little girl, tucked her under his arm and skedaddled. Bran couldn’t make his feet move to follow the others and no one dragged him out of the way. 

The riders reined in their horses. One of the black beasts snorted and flung white spittle into the air. The closest gunman leaped to the ground, dropped the reins and marched to the ticket booth where the old gent, Mr. White, who looked as pale as his name, clutched the metal box to his chest. 

“Give me the money. Now.” The outlaw pointed his gun at Mr. White’s face.

Bran’s stomach shrank to the size of a peach pit. Was he about a witness a murder?

The older gentlemen’s mouth moved but no sound came out. He handed over the box. “H-here,” he stammered. “That’s all there is.”

Cradling the moneybox, the robber swept off his hat and executed a cocky bow. “My thanks to you, sir. We’ll put it to good use.”

He tucked his pistol into his belt and went for his horse. It seemed that he flew into the saddle, he moved so fast. 

The other two men waited, guns at the ready, scanning the crowd. With narrowed eyes, they dared anyone who might take a notion to challenge them. 

Bran glanced around. Nobody was up to the task. Most of the spectators had run or were rooted to the spot, too scared to move. Like him.

Cole Younger

When one of the horses danced in Bran’s direction, he grabbed the leather pouch tucked beneath his shirt. His heart fluttered like cotton drawers on a clothesline. Would this other robber demand his bag of pennies? 

The man’s eyes, visible above the bandana, were clear as a blue sky and twinkled with mirth. “This ought to give your editor something to write about,” he drawled. “Tell him this: The knights ride for Camelot.”

Bran had no idea what the man meant, but he knew for certain the robbery was a bigger story than the fair. After this, nobody would care about schedules or events. He couldn’t give away these papers, unless…

He gripped the remaining sheets in a shaking hand and held up them up. “Want to buy my last three newspapers, mister?”

The man’s eyes registered surprise before they squinted with amusement, deepening the pale lines on either side. “This pup has more grit than any of these mongrels,” he remarked to his companions. “Sure, I’ll buy your newspapers.” 

www.midwestromancewriters.com/home/kansas-city-story/

Proceeds from Kansas City Story will go to Midwest Romance Writers, Inc., a non-profit organization of writers helping other writers.

Kansas City has a fascinating history and I love sharing my hometown with the world. Is there something about your hometown you find particularly interesting or unusual?

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