Thank You, Godzilla.
I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating. It’s the first time I went to Yorkshire and I wasn’t alone. I had two little kids in tow and one of them was responsible for the trip.
When my first child, David, was about five, he watched an old monster movie featuring Godzilla destroying London. He pestered me for days, saying he had to go to London to see Godzilla. Being a busy parent, I made a huge mistake when I told him no. “When you’re nine. We’ll go then.” I was sure he’d forget.
His ninth birthday came around and guess what? We went to England.
I don’t think David was too disappointed to find Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and the Tower intact, and after touring the city we rented a car and headed north (driving on the wrong side of the road). It was worth it. That’s when I fell in love with Yorkshire.
Some of my favorite memories are climbing the steps of York’s famous cathedral all the way into the tower, staying in a small hotel above a pub, and the glorious countryside. I highly recommend spending a few days inside the old walled city. While it’s been ages since I was there, it’s easy to book accommodations and scope out restaurants via the web.
Decades after my visit, when I finally wrote Scandal’s Bride, I included Yorkshire, knowing I hadn’t been there in a very long time, but wanting to see it again through the eyes of my character.
Not trusting my memories, I rummaged through an old storage closet until I found pictures from that long-ago trip. I read a guidebook, did some internet searches, and tuned in to a season of Happy Valley, a modern cop show set in Yorkshire. Then I wrote, feeling relatively comfortable about the setting for Woodhaven Abbey, supposedly in the countryside not far from the Ouse River.
I found pictures of sheep, swore a guidebook said gorse was red (all the others said it was yellow), and dug out scenes of ruined abbeys. I was set to write my book about strangers who marry, who work to make their crumbling estate a home, and who (of course) encounter many difficulties along the way.
I love how the characters find their way to their happy ending and I have Godzilla to thank. Or maybe my son who never let us forget that one day we would take him to London.
Title: Scandal’s Bride
Series and Book #: Book Two of Scandal Series
Author/pen name: Pamela Gibson
Genre: Historical (Regency)
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Date of Publication: July 10, 2019
Number of pages: 265
Word Count: 89,000
Lady Gwendolyn Pettigrew longs to be a mother, but refuses to marry the lecherous old fool her father has found for her. When her best friend convinces her to consider her husband’s younger brother as a suitable candidate, Gwen agrees to a marriage of convenience, hoping against hope that her dream of becoming a mother will have a chance.
The Hon. John Montague, a penniless younger son, is handsome, witty, and thrilled that a woman with a dowry has agreed to wed him. Best of all she’s a fiercely independent bluestocking, a woman who won’t want to bother with a family. Because John has a shocking secret. He’s vowed never to bring a child into the world, a child who, like his own mother, might carry the strain of madness.
As secrets unfold, tension grows, threatening the fragile bonds they’ve forged. Worse, someone wants them to abandon their home and leave Yorkshire, and they’ll stop at nothing to make it happen.
Buy links: www.amazon.com/dp/B07S92TBSM
He removed his waistcoat, laying it over the topcoat, and sat down opposite Gwen. “Gwen . . .”
They both laughed, and it was a good feeling. He drained his wine glass. “Drink up. I want to talk to you before we retire.”
Her eyes widened, and her breath seemed to catch. Was she feeling faint? He certainly was. Why had he left this so long? Most people consummated their marriage the first night.
She picked up her glass and took a hefty swallow. Her cheeks were as pink as her dress, and she looked as good as an iced sweet in a bakery window, something he’d like to swirl his tongue around and gently taste.
Get on with it.
He took a deep breath, scooted his chair closer to hers until their knees touched, and took one of her hands in his. Her fingers were long and well-shaped. He wondered what they would feel like on his . . .
“Gwen . . .”
They laughed again, and their merriment gave him an opening. He placed his hand behind her head, leaned in, and took her bottom lip in his mouth, nibbling as he watched her face. She was as wide-eyed as he was, not even trying to move away. Then her lashes fluttered, and her eyes closed as she moved closer, inviting him to deepen the kiss. She moaned as his lips closed over hers, and he was totally undone.
Author of eight books on California history and twelve romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who lives in the Nevada desert. Having spent the last three years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading, writing, cooking and keeping up with the antics of her gran-cats, gran-dog, and gran-fish. Sadly, the gran-lizard went to his final reward.
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