Sunday, August 2, 2020
Sunday's Sport Stats: Keeping Kyle by Jeff Adams
An NHL All-Star
A workaholic entrepreneur
One irresistibly tempting opportunity
KYLE
I can’t believe I let my best friend talk me into being auctioned off for charity. But when I get a look at the guy who placed the winning bid, I feel like I’m the one who snagged the top prize.
AUSTIN
I didn’t get to where I am by letting opportunities slip through my fingers. When I learn that Kyle Pressgrove will be part of the bachelor auction taking place during All-Star weekend, that’s the kind of chance that you grab ahold of, and I have no intention of letting go.
With my career on the line and the possibility of Kyle being traded to a team half-way across the country, things between us might be over before they’ve even begun. I’d give anything to keep Kyle in my life, but everything might not be enough.
I'm going to start off by saying that I loved how Austin is a workaholic but not for purely selfish gain. By that I mean, it was wonderful to see a character who is devoted to getting his company going, keeping it strong, but not just for himself but also for his employees. He doesn't want to let them down, such a fresh approach not explored nearly enough in fiction for my taste, so when it's done I take notice and when it's done believably then it stays with me.
Now you know why I love Austin so let's look at Kyle. Austin's dream date, his one luxury he's allowed himself to unwind down with: hockey and his favorite player. Kyle is living the dream by playing for his hometown team but doing his buddy, Garrett(from RJ Scott's Guarding Garrett, book one of this great series) a favor could change his life. I can't imagine what it would be like to be able to play for the team you grew up watching but I think the author shows us a glimpse of the joy Kyle feels doing so. Kyle can be a bit of a stickler when it comes to being on time vs. lateness and when dealing with a workaholic that can be issue, I liked how the author factors it in but doesn't let the story get bogged down with "rehashing" elements just to create drama.
Throw these two intriguing characters together and what you have is fun, sexy potential. Fate never likes to make things easy. You got business hiccups, trading rumors, and does all that make it the right time for Kyle and Austin to start something beyond the charity auction? For that answer you have to read for yourself, which I highly recommend doing. Sure there were times I wanted to bang the guys' heads together for their lack of or miscommunication but without some drama fiction can be a very boring world. Again I loved how the author "spread the drama about" and didn't just hone in one issue, a little bit of everything created the pull that kept me interested from beginning to end.
This is the first book by Jeff Adams that I read and I can safely say it won't be the last. Aside from the creative idea of the charity auction for a multi-author series, Jeff Adams' characters had their own creative and intriguing side that made them fun to read and root for. Keeping Kyle is a wonderful blend of friendship, family, romance, heat, humor, drama, all wrapped together in a great little heart-filled package.
RATING:
Hot hockey players on the auction block…
Win a date with a professional hockey player during All Star weekend in Chicago. From leading scorers to fan favorites to guys you love to hate, watch the players strut their stuff in support of the Hockey Allies charity.
Place a bid. You just might find someone to keep you warm.
Jeff Adams has written stories since he was in middle school and became a published author in 2009 when his first short stories were published. He writes both gay romance and LGBTQ+ young adult fiction…and there’s usually a hockey player at the center of the story.
Jeff lives in central California with his husband of more than twenty years, Will. Some of his favorite things include the musical "Rent" and, the Detroit Red Wings and Pittsburgh Penguins hockey teams, and the reality TV competition "So You Think You Can Dance." He, of course, loves to read, but there isn’t enough space to list his favorite books.
Jeff and Will are also podcasters. The "Big Gay Fiction Podcast" is a weekly show devoted to gay romance as well as pop culture. New episodes come out every Monday at BigGayFictionPodcast.com. The "Big Gay Author Podcast" chronicles their journey to become full time authors. New episodes drop Saturdays at BigGayAuthorPodcast.com.
Keeping Kyle #3
Saturday, August 1, 2020
Saturday's Series Spotlight: Changing Tides by Bryce Winters featuring Time and Tide #2
Title: Time and Tide
Author: Bryce Winters
Series: Changing Tides #2
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: July 31, 2020
Cover Design: Resplendent Media
Summary:
Lincoln Holt and Kent Scott, former lovers, find themselves thrust together again twelve years later after Linc comes home from the Army with an injury that Kent will be treating.
The tides tore them apart…
Lincoln Holt is a damn fine soldier - one of the best. But an ambush leaves Linc injured and many of his squad dead. Discharged and disillusioned, he heads back to the small town he’d once been desperate to leave. Then a physical therapy appointment brings him face to face with a grown-up, sexier version of the boy he had once loved, and Linc finds himself hoping against all hope for one more chance.
Time kept them apart…
Love doesn’t last. That’s Kent Scott’s belief after watching his mother bounce from husband to husband. His own short-lived affair with Linc is further proof – especially since Linc had left without saying goodbye. Kent had resolved to never let love dig its claws into him again. Then Linc lands in Kent’s clinic, looking taller, broader, and more gorgeous than ever, and Kent feels the pull.
Time and tides renew…
With every heady moment spent in Linc’s presence, Kent’s resolve weakens. But when Kent discovers a secret, all his doubts and fears come rushing back. The time and tides of life were once strong enough to keep them apart, but will love be enough to keep these forces at bay?
Welcome to The Changing Tides Inn, the perfect getaway for those looking for a little romance. Time and Tide is the second 77 000 word novel documenting the inn’s (and owner’s) impact on the lives of its guests and can be read as a standalone. Follow the guests’ adventures and be assured there will always be a happily ever after.
Summary:
The rising tide brings storms...
Harris Brewer has seen it all – and cut it open. As a cardiac surgeon, he's used to challenges, used to surprises. But when he's slapped with a high-profile malpractice suit the last thing he expects is to get shipped off to a tiny Oregon town to 'let the lawyers handle it.' Then he sees a big blond hunk jogging down the street and realizes that maybe a hot vacation fling is just what the doctor ordered...
The rising tide brings change...
Never get involved with a tourist. That's been Reid Colburn's policy and it's served him well. They come, bring their money, and leave. That's good enough for his restaurant business – and his heart. But this new guy in town, he's something else. Reid can’t deny enjoying the relentless flirting. Too bad Dr. Stud is just passing through...
The rising tide erodes the past...
Despite being careful to avoid it, Reid finds himself on the brink of falling in love. They both knew this was a temporary thing, so why does it hurt so bad when Harris going back to Los Angeles becomes the inevitable reality? Maybe Reid shouldn't be fighting against the tide. Maybe he should just ride this stormy affair to wherever it leads...
This novel features 73,000 words of contemporary MM romance, no cliffhangers, an HEA, and a gray tabby with white named Leo. It can be read as a stand alone.
Time and Tide #2
Kent made his way to the door, laptop tucked under his arm, but before he could get far, Linc’s hand snatched his. Startled, Kent looked back at Linc, who looked confused as he stared at their hands.
“Thank you, Kent,” Linc said after a long moment, dropping Kent’s hand. “This is the first time I’ve actually felt some relief since being home,” his voice trailed off, and he shrugged. “Just thank you.”
“Of course,” Kent said, not knowing what else to say. “We’re going to get you better, Linc. But it isn’t going to be easy.”
“You said that to me before,” Linc said, giving Kent a quick smile. “You’re probably not lying now either.”
Kent blinked at Linc before remembering the talk they had in the library during their first meeting as tutor and tutee. Kent had lost his patience with Linc, who had been moaning about baseball practice and the games coming up and how he was wasting so much time studying math with Kent when he should be in the gym. Kent had told him then and there that unless he gave some effort toward his math homework, Linc wouldn’t be playing ball period. That had shut Linc up enough to listen.
“It isn’t going to be easy,” Kent had said then. “But I guarantee that if you try, you’ll succeed.”
Kent stiffened at the memory, even as he answered Linc’s smile with a nod. He needed to remain professional here, not take a stroll down memory lane.
“You’re going to do fine,” Kent said. “Have a nice nap. If you need us, ring the bell on the cart.” With that, Kent snapped the light off and nearly ran from the room, leaving the door propped open so anybody could hear the bell.
Kent heaved a sigh of relief as he made his way back out to the gym. The appointment was over. All Kent had to do was unhook Linc when he was done, type up his notes and submit them. That would hopefully be the end of his professional relationship with Linc. With the extent of his injuries, it was very likely that his boss, Nick, would take over the case.
“Kent, how’d it go?” Nick asked, walking up to Kent from behind. Startled, Kent whipped around. Nick stood tall and wide, having been a college football star back before he decided physical therapy was his calling. He had his jacket on and a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. He must have just arrived.
“Fine,” Kent said with a tight smile. “Linc’s been through a lot, but I think he’s stubborn enough to make a full recovery. Won’t be easy.” Kent gave him a quick rundown of his eval, emphasizing that he would write up the report for Nick’s review later.
“Good work, Kent,” Nick said as they headed to the center desk. It was long, overlooking the gym, with connection hubs for each of the physical therapists’ laptops. None of them had private offices, instead choosing to work out in the middle of the action. Nick said it built a rapport with the patients and tech assistants, and it was always a good idea to have the physical therapists on hand for exercise questions that came up. Kent found he liked the busy atmosphere, finding a natural rhythm in preparing for a patient's arrival and writing up session notes while his patients completed their exercises.
“I think he’ll be a great new patient for you. A challenge,” Nick continued. Kent froze in place, the words taking their sweet time to register fully in his brain.
“What?” he asked, voice small.
“Holt. I’m assigning him to you. Good luck.” With that, Nick turned his back to Kent and began to pull his own laptop from his bag, unaware that he had turned Kent’s world upside down.
Kent made his way to the door, laptop tucked under his arm, but before he could get far, Linc’s hand snatched his. Startled, Kent looked back at Linc, who looked confused as he stared at their hands.
“Thank you, Kent,” Linc said after a long moment, dropping Kent’s hand. “This is the first time I’ve actually felt some relief since being home,” his voice trailed off, and he shrugged. “Just thank you.”
“Of course,” Kent said, not knowing what else to say. “We’re going to get you better, Linc. But it isn’t going to be easy.”
“You said that to me before,” Linc said, giving Kent a quick smile. “You’re probably not lying now either.”
Kent blinked at Linc before remembering the talk they had in the library during their first meeting as tutor and tutee. Kent had lost his patience with Linc, who had been moaning about baseball practice and the games coming up and how he was wasting so much time studying math with Kent when he should be in the gym. Kent had told him then and there that unless he gave some effort toward his math homework, Linc wouldn’t be playing ball period. That had shut Linc up enough to listen.
Kent stiffened at the memory, even as he answered Linc’s smile with a nod. He needed to remain professional here, not take a stroll down memory lane.
“You’re going to do fine,” Kent said. “Have a nice nap. If you need us, ring the bell on the cart.” With that, Kent snapped the light off and nearly ran from the room, leaving the door propped open so anybody could hear the bell.
Kent heaved a sigh of relief as he made his way back out to the gym. The appointment was over. All Kent had to do was unhook Linc when he was done, type up his notes and submit them. That would hopefully be the end of his professional relationship with Linc. With the extent of his injuries, it was very likely that his boss, Nick, would take over the case.
“Fine,” Kent said with a tight smile. “Linc’s been through a lot, but I think he’s stubborn enough to make a full recovery. Won’t be easy.” Kent gave him a quick rundown of his eval, emphasizing that he would write up the report for Nick’s review later.
“Good work, Kent,” Nick said as they headed to the center desk. It was long, overlooking the gym, with connection hubs for each of the physical therapists’ laptops. None of them had private offices, instead choosing to work out in the middle of the action. Nick said it built a rapport with the patients and tech assistants, and it was always a good idea to have the physical therapists on hand for exercise questions that came up. Kent found he liked the busy atmosphere, finding a natural rhythm in preparing for a patient's arrival and writing up session notes while his patients completed their exercises.
“I think he’ll be a great new patient for you. A challenge,” Nick continued. Kent froze in place, the words taking their sweet time to register fully in his brain.
“What?” he asked, voice small.
“Holt. I’m assigning him to you. Good luck.” With that, Nick turned his back to Kent and began to pull his own laptop from his bag, unaware that he had turned Kent’s world upside down.
After reading no fewer than one million romance novels and earning her Master's of Arts in English and Creative Writing, Bryce finally mustered up the courage to write her own. Filled with love, laughter, and steamy scenes, Bryce's novels will welcome you deep into their pages.
Happily married with three kitties, Bryce can most often be found reading, crocheting, or trying to master Crow Pose. Or her next batch of cookies. Could go either way.
Time and Tide #2
Rising Tide #1
Friday, July 31, 2020
📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation🎥📘: Mansfield Park by Jane Austen
A shy young woman discovers her true power in this poignant love story from one of the world’s most cherished authors
The eldest of nine children born to a naval lieutenant with a meager pension, Fanny Price is sent to live with wealthy relatives at Mansfield Park. Only ten years old, she is nervous around her rich cousins and uncomfortable in their grand house. And as the years pass, Fanny comes to believe that she will never truly feel at home. Only Edmund Bertram makes life worth living.
He is the only one of her cousins who is kind to her, a gentle soul whom she has loved since childhood. But when the worldly and charismatic Crawford siblings, Henry and Mary, arrive from London and ensnare the Bertram family in a complicated web of romance and intrigue, Fanny worries that her relationship with Edmund will never be the same. To win his heart, she must keep her head—a task that becomes all the more difficult when her family pressures her to accept Henry Crawford’s unexpected marriage proposal.Widely regarded to be Jane Austen’s first mature novel, Mansfield Park subtly critiques the snobbery of English society by celebrating the virtues of its unassuming yet profoundly compelling heroine.
Chapter One
ABOUT THIRTY years ago, Miss Maria Ward of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, with all the comforts and consequences of an handsome house and large income. All Huntingdon exclaimed on the greatness of the match, and her uncle, the lawyer, himself, allowed her to be at least three thousand pounds short of any equitable claim to it. She had two sisters to be benefited by her elevation; and such of their acquaintance as thought Miss Ward and Miss Frances quite as handsome as Miss Maria, did not scruple to predict their marrying with almost equal advantage. But there certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world, as there are pretty women to deserve them. Miss Ward, at the end of half a dozen years, found herself obliged to be attached to the Rev. Mr. Norris, a friend of her brother-in-law, with scarcely any private fortune, and Miss Frances fared yet worse. Miss Ward's match, indeed, when it came to the point, was not contemptible, Sir Thomas being happily able to give his friend an income in the living of Mansfield, and Mr. and Mrs. Norris began their career of conjugal felicity with very little less than a thousand a year. But Miss Frances married, in the common phrase, to disoblige her family, and by fixing on a Lieutenant of Marines, without education, fortune, or connections, did it very thoroughly. She could hardly have made a more untoward choice. Sir Thomas Bertram had interest, which, from principle as well as pride, from a general wish of doing right, and a desire of seeing all that were connected with him in situations of respectability, he would have been glad to exert for the advantage of Lady Bertram's sister; but her husband's profession was such as no interest could reach; and before he had time to devise any other method of assisting them, an absolute breach between the sisters had taken place. It was the natural result of the conduct of each party, and such as a very imprudent marriage almost always produces. To save herself from useless remonstrance, Mrs. Price never wrote to her family on the subject till actually married. Lady Bertram, who was a woman of very tranquil feelings, and a temper remarkably easy and indolent, would have contented herself with merely giving up her sister, and thinking no more of the matter: but Mrs. Norris had a spirit of activity, which could not be satisfied till she had written a long and angry letter to Fanny, to point out the folly of her conduct, and threaten her with all its possible ill consequences. Mrs. Price in her turn was injured and angry; and an answer which comprehended each sister in its bitterness, and bestowed such very disrespectful reflections on the pride of Sir Thomas, as Mrs. Norris could not possibly keep to herself, put an end to all intercourse between them for a considerable period.
Their homes were so distant, and the circles in which they moved so distinct, as almost to preclude the means of ever hearing of each other's existence during the eleven following years, or at least to make it very wonderful to Sir Thomas, that Mrs. Norris should ever have it in her power to tell them, as she now and then did in an angry voice, that Fanny had got another child. By the end of eleven years, however, Mrs. Price could no longer afford to cherish pride or resentment, or to lose one connection that might possibly assist her. A large and still increasing family, an husband disabled for active service, but not the less equal to company and good liquor, and a very small income to supply their wants, made her eager to regain the friends she had so carelessly sacrificed; and she addressed Lady Bertram in a letter which spoke so much contrition and despondence, such a superfluity of children, and such a want of almost every thing else, as could not but dispose them all to a reconciliation. She was preparing for her ninth lying-in, and after bewailing the circumstance, and imploring their countenance as sponsors to the expected child, she could not conceal how important she felt they might be to the future maintenance of the eight already in being. Her eldest was a boy of ten years old, a fine spirited fellow who longed to be out in the world; but what could she do? Was there any chance of his being hereafter useful to Sir Thomas in the concerns of his West Indian property? No situation would be beneath him-or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent out to the East?
The letter was not unproductive. It re-established peace and kindness. Sir Thomas sent friendly advice and professions, Lady Bertram dispatched money and baby-linen, and Mrs. Norris wrote the letters.
Such were its immediate effects, and within a twelvemonth a more important advantage to Mrs. Price resulted from it. Mrs. Norris was often observing to the others, that she could not get her poor sister and her family out of her head, and that much as they had all done for her, she seemed to be wanting to do more: and at length she could not but own it to be her wish, that poor Mrs. Price should be relieved from the charge and expense of one child entirely out of her great number. "What if they were among them to undertake the care of her eldest daughter, a girl now nine years old, of an age to require more attention than her poor mother could possibly give? The trouble and expense of it to them, would be nothing compared with the benevolence of the action." Lady Bertram agreed with her instantly. "I think we cannot do better," said she, "let us send for the child."
Sir Thomas could not give so instantaneous and unqualified a consent. He debated and hesitated;-it was a serious charge;-a girl so brought up must be adequately provided for, or there would be cruelty instead of kindness in taking her from her family. He thought of his own four children-of his two sons-of cousins in love, &c.;-but no sooner had he deliberately begun to state his objections, than Mrs. Norris interrupted him with a reply to them all whether stated or not.
"My dear Sir Thomas, I perfectly comprehend you, and do justice to the generosity and delicacy of your notions, which indeed are quite of a piece with your general conduct; and I entirely agree with you in the main as to the propriety of doing every thing one could by way of providing for a child one had in a manner taken into one's own hands; and I am sure I should be the last person in the world to withhold my mite upon such an occasion. Having no children of my own, who should I look to in any little matter I may ever have to bestow, but the children of my sisters?-and I am sure Mr. Norris is too just-but you know I am a woman of few words and professions. Do not let us be frightened from a good deed by a trifle. Give a girl an education, and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one but she has the means of settling well, without farther expense to any body.
A niece of our's, Sir Thomas, I may say, or, at least of your's, would not grow up in this neighbourhood without many advantages. I don't say she would be so handsome as her cousins. I dare say she would not; but she would be introduced into the society of this country under such very favourable circumstances as, in all human probability, would get her a creditable establishment. You are thinking of your sons-but do not you know that of all things upon earth that is the least likely to happen; brought up, as they would be, always together like brothers and sisters? It is morally impossible. I never knew an instance of it. It is, in fact, the only sure way of providing against the connection. Suppose her a pretty girl, and seen by Tom or Edmund for the first time seven years hence, and I dare say there would be mischief. The very idea of her having been suffered to grow up at a distance from us all in poverty and neglect, would be enough to make either of the dear sweet-tempered boys in love with her. But breed her up with them from this time, and suppose her even to have the beauty of an angel, and she will never be more to either than a sister."
"There is a great deal of truth in what you say," replied Sir Thomas, "and far be it from me to throw any fanciful impediment in the way of a plan which would be so consistent with the relative situations of each. I only meant to observe, that it ought not to be lightly engaged in, and that to make it really serviceable to Mrs. Price, and creditable to ourselves, we must secure to the child, or consider ourselves engaged to secure to her hereafter, as circumstances may arise, the provision of a gentlewoman, if no such establishment should offer as you are so sanguine in expecting."
"I thoroughly understand you," cried Mrs. Norris; "you are every thing that is generous and considerate, and I am sure we shall never disagree on this point. Whatever I can do, as you well know, I am always ready enough to do for the good of those I love; and, though I could never feel for this little girl the hundredth part of the regard I bear your own dear children, nor consider her, in any respect, so much my own, I should hate myself if I were capable of neglecting her. Is not she a sister's child? and could I bear to see her want, while I had a bit of bread to give her? My dear Sir Thomas, with all my faults I have a warm heart: and, poor as I am, would rather deny myself the necessaries of life, than do an ungenerous thing. So, if you are not against it, I will write to my poor sister to-morrow, and make the proposal; and, as soon as matters are settled, I will engage to get the child to Mansfield; you shall have no trouble about it. My own trouble, you know, I never regard.
I will send Nanny to London on purpose, and she may have a bed at her cousin, the sadler's, and the child be appointed to meet her there. They may easily get her from Portsmouth to town by the coach, under the care of any creditable person that may chance to be going. I dare say there is always some reputable tradesman's wife or other going up."
Except to the attack on Nanny's cousin, Sir Thomas no longer made any objection, and a more respectable, though less economical rendezvous being accordingly substituted, every thing was considered as settled, and the pleasures of so benevolent a scheme were already enjoyed. The division of gratifying sensations ought not, in strict justice, to have been equal; for Sir Thomas was fully resolved to be the real and consistent patron of the selected child, and Mrs. Norris had not the least intention of being at any expense whatever in her maintenance. As far as walking, talking and contriving reached, she was thoroughly benevolent, and nobody knew better how to dictate liberality to others: but her love of money was equal to her love of directing, and she knew quite as well how to save her own as to spend that of her friends. Having married on a narrower income than she had been used to look forward to, she had, from the first, fancied a very strict line of economy necessary; and what was begun as a matter of prudence, soon grew into a matter of choice, as an object of that needful solicitude, which there were no children to supply. Had there been a family to provide for, Mrs. Norris might never have saved her money; but having no care of that kind, there was nothing to impede her frugality, or lessen the comfort of making a yearly addition to an income which they had never lived up to. Under this infatuating principle, counteracted by no real affection for her sister, it was impossible for her to aim at more than the credit of projecting and arranging so expensive a charity; though perhaps she might so little know herself, as to walk home to the Parsonage after this conversation, in the happy belief of being the most liberal-minded sister and aunt in the world.
When the subject was brought forward again, her views were more fully explained; and, in reply to Lady Bertram's calm inquiry of "Where shall the child come to first, sister, to you or to us?" Sir Thomas heard, with some surprise, that it would be totally out of Mrs. Norris's power to take any share in the personal charge of her. He had been considering her as a particularly welcome addition at the Parsonage, as a desirable companion to an aunt who had no children of her own; but he found himself wholly mistaken. Mrs. Norris was sorry to say, that the little girl's staying with them, at least as things then were, was quite out of the question. Poor Mr. Norris's indifferent state of health made it an impossibility: he could no more bear the noise of a child than he could fly; if indeed he should ever get well of his gouty complaints, it would be a different matter: she should then be glad to take her turn, and think nothing of the inconvenience; but just now, poor Mr. Norris took up every moment of her time, and the very mention of such a thing she was sure would distract him.
"Then she had better come to us," said Lady Bertram with the utmost composure. After a short pause, Sir Thomas added with dignity, "Yes, let her home be in this house. We will endeavour to do our duty by her, and she will at least have the advantage of companions of her own age, and of a regular instructress."
"Very true," cried Mrs. Norris, "which are both very important considerations: and it will be just the same to Miss Lee, whether she has three girls to teach, or only two-there can be no difference. I only wish I could be more useful; but you see I do all in my power. I am not one of those that spare their own trouble; and Nanny shall fetch her, however it may put me to inconvenience to have my chief counsellor away for three days. I suppose, sister, you will put the child in the little white attic, near the old nurseries. It will be much the best place for her, so near Miss Lee, and not far from the girls, and close by the housemaids, who could either of them help dress her you know, and take care of her clothes, for I suppose you would not think it fair to expect Ellis to wait on her as well as the others. Indeed, I do not see that you could possibly place her any where else."
ABOUT THIRTY years ago, Miss Maria Ward of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, with all the comforts and consequences of an handsome house and large income. All Huntingdon exclaimed on the greatness of the match, and her uncle, the lawyer, himself, allowed her to be at least three thousand pounds short of any equitable claim to it. She had two sisters to be benefited by her elevation; and such of their acquaintance as thought Miss Ward and Miss Frances quite as handsome as Miss Maria, did not scruple to predict their marrying with almost equal advantage. But there certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world, as there are pretty women to deserve them. Miss Ward, at the end of half a dozen years, found herself obliged to be attached to the Rev. Mr. Norris, a friend of her brother-in-law, with scarcely any private fortune, and Miss Frances fared yet worse. Miss Ward's match, indeed, when it came to the point, was not contemptible, Sir Thomas being happily able to give his friend an income in the living of Mansfield, and Mr. and Mrs. Norris began their career of conjugal felicity with very little less than a thousand a year. But Miss Frances married, in the common phrase, to disoblige her family, and by fixing on a Lieutenant of Marines, without education, fortune, or connections, did it very thoroughly. She could hardly have made a more untoward choice. Sir Thomas Bertram had interest, which, from principle as well as pride, from a general wish of doing right, and a desire of seeing all that were connected with him in situations of respectability, he would have been glad to exert for the advantage of Lady Bertram's sister; but her husband's profession was such as no interest could reach; and before he had time to devise any other method of assisting them, an absolute breach between the sisters had taken place. It was the natural result of the conduct of each party, and such as a very imprudent marriage almost always produces. To save herself from useless remonstrance, Mrs. Price never wrote to her family on the subject till actually married. Lady Bertram, who was a woman of very tranquil feelings, and a temper remarkably easy and indolent, would have contented herself with merely giving up her sister, and thinking no more of the matter: but Mrs. Norris had a spirit of activity, which could not be satisfied till she had written a long and angry letter to Fanny, to point out the folly of her conduct, and threaten her with all its possible ill consequences. Mrs. Price in her turn was injured and angry; and an answer which comprehended each sister in its bitterness, and bestowed such very disrespectful reflections on the pride of Sir Thomas, as Mrs. Norris could not possibly keep to herself, put an end to all intercourse between them for a considerable period.
Their homes were so distant, and the circles in which they moved so distinct, as almost to preclude the means of ever hearing of each other's existence during the eleven following years, or at least to make it very wonderful to Sir Thomas, that Mrs. Norris should ever have it in her power to tell them, as she now and then did in an angry voice, that Fanny had got another child. By the end of eleven years, however, Mrs. Price could no longer afford to cherish pride or resentment, or to lose one connection that might possibly assist her. A large and still increasing family, an husband disabled for active service, but not the less equal to company and good liquor, and a very small income to supply their wants, made her eager to regain the friends she had so carelessly sacrificed; and she addressed Lady Bertram in a letter which spoke so much contrition and despondence, such a superfluity of children, and such a want of almost every thing else, as could not but dispose them all to a reconciliation. She was preparing for her ninth lying-in, and after bewailing the circumstance, and imploring their countenance as sponsors to the expected child, she could not conceal how important she felt they might be to the future maintenance of the eight already in being. Her eldest was a boy of ten years old, a fine spirited fellow who longed to be out in the world; but what could she do? Was there any chance of his being hereafter useful to Sir Thomas in the concerns of his West Indian property? No situation would be beneath him-or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent out to the East?
The letter was not unproductive. It re-established peace and kindness. Sir Thomas sent friendly advice and professions, Lady Bertram dispatched money and baby-linen, and Mrs. Norris wrote the letters.
Such were its immediate effects, and within a twelvemonth a more important advantage to Mrs. Price resulted from it. Mrs. Norris was often observing to the others, that she could not get her poor sister and her family out of her head, and that much as they had all done for her, she seemed to be wanting to do more: and at length she could not but own it to be her wish, that poor Mrs. Price should be relieved from the charge and expense of one child entirely out of her great number. "What if they were among them to undertake the care of her eldest daughter, a girl now nine years old, of an age to require more attention than her poor mother could possibly give? The trouble and expense of it to them, would be nothing compared with the benevolence of the action." Lady Bertram agreed with her instantly. "I think we cannot do better," said she, "let us send for the child."
Sir Thomas could not give so instantaneous and unqualified a consent. He debated and hesitated;-it was a serious charge;-a girl so brought up must be adequately provided for, or there would be cruelty instead of kindness in taking her from her family. He thought of his own four children-of his two sons-of cousins in love, &c.;-but no sooner had he deliberately begun to state his objections, than Mrs. Norris interrupted him with a reply to them all whether stated or not.
"My dear Sir Thomas, I perfectly comprehend you, and do justice to the generosity and delicacy of your notions, which indeed are quite of a piece with your general conduct; and I entirely agree with you in the main as to the propriety of doing every thing one could by way of providing for a child one had in a manner taken into one's own hands; and I am sure I should be the last person in the world to withhold my mite upon such an occasion. Having no children of my own, who should I look to in any little matter I may ever have to bestow, but the children of my sisters?-and I am sure Mr. Norris is too just-but you know I am a woman of few words and professions. Do not let us be frightened from a good deed by a trifle. Give a girl an education, and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one but she has the means of settling well, without farther expense to any body.
A niece of our's, Sir Thomas, I may say, or, at least of your's, would not grow up in this neighbourhood without many advantages. I don't say she would be so handsome as her cousins. I dare say she would not; but she would be introduced into the society of this country under such very favourable circumstances as, in all human probability, would get her a creditable establishment. You are thinking of your sons-but do not you know that of all things upon earth that is the least likely to happen; brought up, as they would be, always together like brothers and sisters? It is morally impossible. I never knew an instance of it. It is, in fact, the only sure way of providing against the connection. Suppose her a pretty girl, and seen by Tom or Edmund for the first time seven years hence, and I dare say there would be mischief. The very idea of her having been suffered to grow up at a distance from us all in poverty and neglect, would be enough to make either of the dear sweet-tempered boys in love with her. But breed her up with them from this time, and suppose her even to have the beauty of an angel, and she will never be more to either than a sister."
"There is a great deal of truth in what you say," replied Sir Thomas, "and far be it from me to throw any fanciful impediment in the way of a plan which would be so consistent with the relative situations of each. I only meant to observe, that it ought not to be lightly engaged in, and that to make it really serviceable to Mrs. Price, and creditable to ourselves, we must secure to the child, or consider ourselves engaged to secure to her hereafter, as circumstances may arise, the provision of a gentlewoman, if no such establishment should offer as you are so sanguine in expecting."
"I thoroughly understand you," cried Mrs. Norris; "you are every thing that is generous and considerate, and I am sure we shall never disagree on this point. Whatever I can do, as you well know, I am always ready enough to do for the good of those I love; and, though I could never feel for this little girl the hundredth part of the regard I bear your own dear children, nor consider her, in any respect, so much my own, I should hate myself if I were capable of neglecting her. Is not she a sister's child? and could I bear to see her want, while I had a bit of bread to give her? My dear Sir Thomas, with all my faults I have a warm heart: and, poor as I am, would rather deny myself the necessaries of life, than do an ungenerous thing. So, if you are not against it, I will write to my poor sister to-morrow, and make the proposal; and, as soon as matters are settled, I will engage to get the child to Mansfield; you shall have no trouble about it. My own trouble, you know, I never regard.
I will send Nanny to London on purpose, and she may have a bed at her cousin, the sadler's, and the child be appointed to meet her there. They may easily get her from Portsmouth to town by the coach, under the care of any creditable person that may chance to be going. I dare say there is always some reputable tradesman's wife or other going up."
Except to the attack on Nanny's cousin, Sir Thomas no longer made any objection, and a more respectable, though less economical rendezvous being accordingly substituted, every thing was considered as settled, and the pleasures of so benevolent a scheme were already enjoyed. The division of gratifying sensations ought not, in strict justice, to have been equal; for Sir Thomas was fully resolved to be the real and consistent patron of the selected child, and Mrs. Norris had not the least intention of being at any expense whatever in her maintenance. As far as walking, talking and contriving reached, she was thoroughly benevolent, and nobody knew better how to dictate liberality to others: but her love of money was equal to her love of directing, and she knew quite as well how to save her own as to spend that of her friends. Having married on a narrower income than she had been used to look forward to, she had, from the first, fancied a very strict line of economy necessary; and what was begun as a matter of prudence, soon grew into a matter of choice, as an object of that needful solicitude, which there were no children to supply. Had there been a family to provide for, Mrs. Norris might never have saved her money; but having no care of that kind, there was nothing to impede her frugality, or lessen the comfort of making a yearly addition to an income which they had never lived up to. Under this infatuating principle, counteracted by no real affection for her sister, it was impossible for her to aim at more than the credit of projecting and arranging so expensive a charity; though perhaps she might so little know herself, as to walk home to the Parsonage after this conversation, in the happy belief of being the most liberal-minded sister and aunt in the world.
When the subject was brought forward again, her views were more fully explained; and, in reply to Lady Bertram's calm inquiry of "Where shall the child come to first, sister, to you or to us?" Sir Thomas heard, with some surprise, that it would be totally out of Mrs. Norris's power to take any share in the personal charge of her. He had been considering her as a particularly welcome addition at the Parsonage, as a desirable companion to an aunt who had no children of her own; but he found himself wholly mistaken. Mrs. Norris was sorry to say, that the little girl's staying with them, at least as things then were, was quite out of the question. Poor Mr. Norris's indifferent state of health made it an impossibility: he could no more bear the noise of a child than he could fly; if indeed he should ever get well of his gouty complaints, it would be a different matter: she should then be glad to take her turn, and think nothing of the inconvenience; but just now, poor Mr. Norris took up every moment of her time, and the very mention of such a thing she was sure would distract him.
"Then she had better come to us," said Lady Bertram with the utmost composure. After a short pause, Sir Thomas added with dignity, "Yes, let her home be in this house. We will endeavour to do our duty by her, and she will at least have the advantage of companions of her own age, and of a regular instructress."
"Very true," cried Mrs. Norris, "which are both very important considerations: and it will be just the same to Miss Lee, whether she has three girls to teach, or only two-there can be no difference. I only wish I could be more useful; but you see I do all in my power. I am not one of those that spare their own trouble; and Nanny shall fetch her, however it may put me to inconvenience to have my chief counsellor away for three days. I suppose, sister, you will put the child in the little white attic, near the old nurseries. It will be much the best place for her, so near Miss Lee, and not far from the girls, and close by the housemaids, who could either of them help dress her you know, and take care of her clothes, for I suppose you would not think it fair to expect Ellis to wait on her as well as the others. Indeed, I do not see that you could possibly place her any where else."
Release Date: November 19, 1999
Release Time: 112 minutes
Cast:
Frances O'Connor as Fanny Price
Jonny Lee Miller as Edmund Bertram
James Purefoy as Thomas Bertram Jr.
Embeth Davidtz as Mary Crawford
Alessandro Nivola as Henry Crawford
Harold Pinter as Sir Thomas Bertram Sr.
Lindsay Duncan as Lady Bertram / Mrs Price
Victoria Hamilton as Maria Bertram
Justine Waddell as Julia Bertram
Hugh Bonneville as Mr Rushworth
Sheila Gish as Mrs Norris
Charles Edwards as Mr Yates
Hilton McRae as Mr Price
Sophia Myles as Susan Price
Anna Popplewell as Betsey
Hannah Taylor-Gordon as Young Fanny
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Jane Austen was an English novelist whose works of romantic fiction, set among the landed gentry, earned her a place as one of the most widely read writers in English literature, her realism and biting social commentary cementing her historical importance among scholars and critics.
Austen lived her entire life as part of a close-knit family located on the lower fringes of the English landed gentry. She was educated primarily by her father and older brothers as well as through her own reading. The steadfast support of her family was critical to her development as a professional writer. Her artistic apprenticeship lasted from her teenage years until she was about 35 years old. During this period, she experimented with various literary forms, including the epistolary novel which she tried then abandoned, and wrote and extensively revised three major novels and began a fourth. From 1811 until 1816, with the release of Sense and Sensibility (1811), Pride and Prejudice (1813), Mansfield Park (1814) and Emma (1815), she achieved success as a published writer. She wrote two additional novels, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, both published posthumously in 1818, and began a third, which was eventually titled Sanditon, but died before completing it.
Austen's works critique the novels of sensibility of the second half of the 18th century and are part of the transition to 19th-century realism. Her plots, though fundamentally comic, highlight the dependence of women on marriage to secure social standing and economic security. Her work brought her little personal fame and only a few positive reviews during her lifetime, but the publication in 1869 of her nephew's A Memoir of Jane Austen introduced her to a wider public, and by the 1940s she had become widely accepted in academia as a great English writer. The second half of the 20th century saw a proliferation of Austen scholarship and the emergence of a Janeite fan culture.
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Thursday, July 30, 2020
Blog Tour: Fade to Blank by CF White
Title: Fade to Blank
Author: CF White
Series: London Lies #1
Genre: M/M Romance, Suspense
Release Date: July 27, 2020
Cover Design: Rhys Everly-Lawless
A celebrity accused of murder. A writer needing his big break. The lies that tie them together.
Accused of a murder he didn’t commit, vilified celebrity Jackson Young enlists the help of a rookie journalist to clear his name and write his biography.
Jackson has a secret though. One he must keep from becoming public. But Fletcher’s dreamy green eyes, Irish drawl and effortless charm makes it hard to suppress those long-buried feelings, even if it could compromise his innocence.
Uncovering the murky past behind Jackson’s rise to fame, Fletcher grows closer to a man he’d once declared as talentless, and their intense attraction starts to affect not only his professional integrity but the life he’d made since moving to London.
Falling for the subject of his book could be fatal for Fletcher, and Jackson should know better than to trust a journalist.
Fade to Blank is the first book in the London Lies trilogy set in 1999, and is a slow burn, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort romantic suspense.
Fletcher drew troubled eyebrows in. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Okay? Okay?” Jackson breathed out a laugh that was more a release of pent up anguish. He’d always been taught to laugh in the face of adversity. He hadn’t been able to do much of that lately. Any flicker of amusement seeping out when in Flaymore would only have been captured by an inmate wanting a name for himself and used against him in the media. He rubbed his stinging eyes. “My girlfriend is dead. Someone strangled her whilst I was passed out in the other room. The world thinks I did it. I’ve spent six months inside because I wasn’t granted bail. This morning I wasn’t told that I was free because they believed I didn’t do it. They just couldn’t prove that I did. I can’t quite see how I would be okay after all that. Do you?”
Perhaps that was too blunt. Too much, too soon? Perhaps all this seeking the truth was coming across more selfish than he’d anticipated. It was. But the world was pointing at him. So he needed to prove his innocence to force people to look at who might have killed her, instead of allowing them to tie the noose around his neck.
And on that thought, his heart almost stopped. So the desperation kicked in. “I need you. Your help.”
Fletcher softened before him. “Okay,” he said. “Go on. Why would I, the fella you tried to knock out due to one bad review, want to write another article about you?”
“I want more than an article. And you’ll have a ready and waiting readership for this. It’ll rocket you to a fortune you never knew existed.”
“Wind your neck in, lad, that’s a touch arrogant there.”
“Arrogance doesn’t equal guilt.” Jackson leapt up from leaning against his bike, new found energy resumed. “Nor does it equal untalented.”
Fletcher glanced away, flicking his gaze back just as quick. “What are you talking here, then? A featured piece?”
Jackson forced a smile. “A full exposé of Jackson Young and why he isn’t the man he’s been depicted as in the media of late.”
“So this is all about you? Not… Tallulah?”
Jackson sucked in a breath at her name. It still stabbed at his heart, strangled his chest, erupted bile into his throat. He wondered if it would ever stop.
Scrubbing fingers across his perspiring forehead, Jackson had to find the right way to explain what he needed. What he had to do before it was too late and this was all hidden under the carpet as so many of the lies and manipulations already had been. He wasn’t sure how far he should go. How much he should admit he knew. There was the whole story. And there was his story.
“I was arrested for something I didn’t do,” he settled on. “I’ve been painted in the media as a monster. Pretty much all my friends and family have abandoned me because they believe people like you.”
“People like me?”
“People with the ability to write words and print them for the public to read, to believe and to act upon.”
“I never wrote about what happened to her. I’ve avoided talking about you, or her, since.”
“I know. Now I want you to.”
Jackson waited for the faint glimmer of understanding to work its way across Fletcher’s face. He had to know this would be the ultimate scoop for him. A writer, a journalist, a gossip columnist…whatever the man claimed to be, if he took this opportunity he could retire.
“I don’t write news. I write…gossip.” It sounded a lot like he hated to say that word, and his gaze blinked away from Jackson toward the glass frontage of London Lights HQ.
“I don’t want you to write for a paper. I don’t want this to be news, or gossip. This is the truth. My truth.”
“I’m not sure my editor will buy into it.” Fletcher sighed. “And if she did, she’d pass it onto the more seasoned journalists.”
“I don’t want your editor. I don’t want this in your poxy magazine.” Jackson spat the word, nodding toward the office block in contempt. He wanted nothing to do with any of that. Especially not London Lights. “This has got to be independent.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted an exposé?”
Jackson stepped forward, a hair’s breadth from Fletcher, so close he could taste the man’s coffee breath. “Ever want to write something different? Something good. Something that could make a name for yourself away from the trash rags? Don’t you want to see your name on a shelf?”
“What type of shelf?”
“A book shelf. I want you to write my biography. So if you ever wanted your fortune handed on a plate, Fletcher Doherty…” Jackson held out his arms. “It’s here.”
“Okay? Okay?” Jackson breathed out a laugh that was more a release of pent up anguish. He’d always been taught to laugh in the face of adversity. He hadn’t been able to do much of that lately. Any flicker of amusement seeping out when in Flaymore would only have been captured by an inmate wanting a name for himself and used against him in the media. He rubbed his stinging eyes. “My girlfriend is dead. Someone strangled her whilst I was passed out in the other room. The world thinks I did it. I’ve spent six months inside because I wasn’t granted bail. This morning I wasn’t told that I was free because they believed I didn’t do it. They just couldn’t prove that I did. I can’t quite see how I would be okay after all that. Do you?”
Perhaps that was too blunt. Too much, too soon? Perhaps all this seeking the truth was coming across more selfish than he’d anticipated. It was. But the world was pointing at him. So he needed to prove his innocence to force people to look at who might have killed her, instead of allowing them to tie the noose around his neck.
And on that thought, his heart almost stopped. So the desperation kicked in. “I need you. Your help.”
Fletcher softened before him. “Okay,” he said. “Go on. Why would I, the fella you tried to knock out due to one bad review, want to write another article about you?”
“I want more than an article. And you’ll have a ready and waiting readership for this. It’ll rocket you to a fortune you never knew existed.”
“Wind your neck in, lad, that’s a touch arrogant there.”
“Arrogance doesn’t equal guilt.” Jackson leapt up from leaning against his bike, new found energy resumed. “Nor does it equal untalented.”
Fletcher glanced away, flicking his gaze back just as quick. “What are you talking here, then? A featured piece?”
Jackson forced a smile. “A full exposé of Jackson Young and why he isn’t the man he’s been depicted as in the media of late.”
“So this is all about you? Not… Tallulah?”
Jackson sucked in a breath at her name. It still stabbed at his heart, strangled his chest, erupted bile into his throat. He wondered if it would ever stop.
Scrubbing fingers across his perspiring forehead, Jackson had to find the right way to explain what he needed. What he had to do before it was too late and this was all hidden under the carpet as so many of the lies and manipulations already had been. He wasn’t sure how far he should go. How much he should admit he knew. There was the whole story. And there was his story.“I was arrested for something I didn’t do,” he settled on. “I’ve been painted in the media as a monster. Pretty much all my friends and family have abandoned me because they believe people like you.”
“People like me?”
“People with the ability to write words and print them for the public to read, to believe and to act upon.”
“I never wrote about what happened to her. I’ve avoided talking about you, or her, since.”
“I know. Now I want you to.”
Jackson waited for the faint glimmer of understanding to work its way across Fletcher’s face. He had to know this would be the ultimate scoop for him. A writer, a journalist, a gossip columnist…whatever the man claimed to be, if he took this opportunity he could retire.
“I don’t write news. I write…gossip.” It sounded a lot like he hated to say that word, and his gaze blinked away from Jackson toward the glass frontage of London Lights HQ.
“I don’t want you to write for a paper. I don’t want this to be news, or gossip. This is the truth. My truth.”
“I’m not sure my editor will buy into it.” Fletcher sighed. “And if she did, she’d pass it onto the more seasoned journalists.”
“I don’t want your editor. I don’t want this in your poxy magazine.” Jackson spat the word, nodding toward the office block in contempt. He wanted nothing to do with any of that. Especially not London Lights. “This has got to be independent.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted an exposé?”
Jackson stepped forward, a hair’s breadth from Fletcher, so close he could taste the man’s coffee breath. “Ever want to write something different? Something good. Something that could make a name for yourself away from the trash rags? Don’t you want to see your name on a shelf?”
“What type of shelf?”
“A book shelf. I want you to write my biography. So if you ever wanted your fortune handed on a plate, Fletcher Doherty…” Jackson held out his arms. “It’s here.”
Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.
Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.
She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.
After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and brought pen back to paper having written stories as a child but never the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, she can’t stop. So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
Fade to Blank #1
The District Line Series
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