Yay! Third week in the blog tour, and I’m happy to welcome Amy Crowin to the blog today. Amy’s going to tell us about meeting her one true love! Take it away, Amy!
If you want to find the love of your life, give up now. Stop looking. You’ll find love when you’re not searching for it and least expect it.
It sounds weird, but it’s true in life and fiction. Pick up a romance and you’ll generally fine a heroine who considers herself out of the dating game for myriad reasons. Take my Regency romantic mystery, The Bricklayer’s Helper. Sam, aka Sarah, is masquerading as a young man. She has no expectations of finding the love of her life and when she meets William, she’s only hoping he’ll help her stay alive after witnessing a ruthless murder.
Charlotte in I Bid One American not only doesn’t want to marry, but views the entire idea as ludicrous. And yet, once she meets Nathaniel, he’s as hard to resist as fate.
Even in my “real life” it took my decision to just give up and move on with my life as a single woman to throw me into the path of my husband. Or maybe it was the decision to follow my passion, bird watching, that did it. But one thing is true, meeting him was as unexpected as any confluence of events in any of my romance novels. I was living my own life and trying to spot a few more birds for my life list when I meet a man doing exactly the same thing. Oddly, he’d pretty much given up the idea of getting married, too, and was pursuing his passion of…bird watching.
So the next time you’re complaining that all the dateable men are married and there’s no hope for you, just give up. And follow your mother’s or friend’s advice to pursue your own interests. You never know where they may lead you.
I guess it’s true (and just like my granny always said), we don’t find love…love finds us!
And here’s a little more about Amy’s books…
What would you do if you were a young girl, orphaned during the early years of the 19th century? Without a family and references, you’d find pitifully few jobs for women, leaving you to face a desperate life of thievery or prostitution.
Sarah faces this terrible situation in The Bricklayer’s Helper.
When work takes her to London, a man from her past recognizes her and arranges a meeting, only to be murdered before they can speak. Desperate that she may be vulnerable, Sarah hires an inquiry agent from the Second Sons Inquiry Agency.
Unfortunately, her decision may prove dangerous to their heart…if not downright fatal.
* * *
In this scene, Sarah—disguised as Sam Sanderson—meets inquiry agent, William Trenchard, for the first time.
Excerpt from The Bricklayer’s Helper
“Sir,” Sotheby asked from the doorway. “There is a person here.”
William turned his head but didn’t bother uncrossing his ankles. There was a tone in Sotheby’s voice that made William’s chest spasm with a suppressed laugh. “What sort of person?”
“A—a common laborer, sir.”
“Really?” William sat up, removing his feet from the desk. “Well, show him in.”
A laborer? What on earth would a common laborer want with an inquiry agent? He stared at the door which Sotheby held open. The butler’s nostrils pinched as if he smelled a disagreeable odor.
To William’s surprise, a slender man walked in. Small puffs of reddish dust delicately swirled in his wake. The young man examined him while William half-stood, leaning over his desk with a hand outstretched. Finally, the lad clasped him with a firm handshake, his fingers hard with calluses.
“I’m Mr. Trenchard. And you are?” William asked.
“Samuel Sanderson, sir.”
A pair of clear grey eyes met his. Steady, honest eyes fringed with ridiculously long lashes that gave him a faintly feminine look. William sat back in his chair and motioned to his visitor to take the seat opposite the desk.
The man was indeed a laborer. His smudged and torn linen smock had large red patches of brick dust. Grit obscured his face and hands. His short, brown hair had long streaks of blond, bleached from constant exposure to the sun, no doubt. Large, intelligent eyes dominated his face. He stared at William directly, measuring him even as he weighed his odd client.
Firm mouth, square chin, and a short, straight nose. William instinctively warmed to the lad, feeling a sudden and surprising rush of warmth. He looked like someone’s younger brother, in trouble and manfully resolved to admit it. Although his clean features appeared very young, no more than eighteen, there was something in his gaze that made William think his client was older. Still, Sanderson’s narrow shoulders and slight build spoke of hardship and near starvation, as did the hollows under his stark cheekbones.
Something caught suddenly in William’s chest in a ripping pang of sympathy.
“So, Mr. Sanderson, what can I do for you?”
Sanderson nodded sharply and fumbled under his smock for a moment before pulling out a worn leather purse. “Money’s always first. There is nearly a guinea here. I don’t carry more, but I can pay you an additional sum when the work is completed. Within reason.”
William stared at him, trying not to appear surprised. A guinea? Mr. Sanderson obviously had no idea how much Second Sons normally charged their illustrious—and generally noble—clients. Still, business had been slow. And he had a desire to prove to Mr. Gaunt that he wasn’t just another bored boudoir bantam who thought working as an inquiry agent might be amusing.
And William was curious.
“And what would be reasonable?” William asked.
“Five pounds. No more. That ought to be enough,” Mr. Sanderson said, his chin rising slightly.
“Enough for what?”
“There was a man murdered this morning.” Mr. Sanderson scrabbled about his person again before he pulled out a scrap of paper. He threw it into the middle of the desk.
William picked up the note and read it over twice before raising his brows. “Did you kill him?”
“Certainly not. I was to meet him this morning. He was murdered before I could.”
“Then why come to me?”
Mr. Sanderson’s remarkable eyes stared back. William thought he saw a flicker of disappointment and then fear, quickly submerged into their clear depths. “I want to know what he knew.”
Check out The Bricklayer’s Daughter and even more of Amy Corwin’s releases at thewildrosepress.com
Here’s how to find Amy when she’s not hanging out with me–
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