“The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”
EMILY BRONTE, Wuthering Heights
Welcome Jerri. I’m also a big fan of Wuthering Heights, did a blog post on it, and I’ve written several ghostly romances in my ‘Somewhere’ series, so we have much in common. Your new story sounds most intriguing.
And now, back to Jerri.
Thanks Beth. Most authors are influenced in their writings by their values and beliefs. We are likely to reflect our perspective into our words which will affect the way the reader will relate our story. It should come as no surprise that our own experiences influence our writings. So the question would have to be asked if you one writes a paranormal book, where does one gather experience to write a ghost story?
The answer to me is quite simple…a vivid imagination. Being an avid reader, I love to immerse myself in books and transport myself into a different world. Some books stay with you such as Wuthering Heights, one of my favorite books. I can still visualize Catherine as a misguided soul wandering the moors searching for what she lost.
Ghost stories are meant to scare. Admit it- we all love a ghost story. So is it the fear and the thrill that attracts us to books with paranormal elements? Ghosts are an unexplained occurrences, but in some aspect I believe we empathize with these lost souls. Most would agree if ghost do exists they are lost souls searching for an answer. So can spirits cross back over from the other side? Are they searching for closure? Good or malevolent? With purpose or simply lost?
The thought sparked a question within me. Would justice be served if a person could reach beyond the grave to right a wrong?
Daughter of Deceit is a story about forbidden love. Set in Regency England, Lord Julian Casvelyn has long lived with the guilt brought on by the murder of his brother by the hands of England’s most notorious traitor. Alyce Hythe is the daughter of that man who is bent on clearing her father’s name, but strange things have been happening to Alyce causing rumors to be whispered of mystic ghosts.
Blurb: Someone wants Alyce Hythe dead…
Shunned from London society for being the daughter of England’s most notorious spy, Alyce Hythe desires only to clear her father’s name. For years, she has been hidden away from all prying eyes, given a new identity and told to forget who she was. But strange things have been happening causing old rumors to once more be whispered.
Long has Lord Julian Casvelyn lived with guilt brought on when his brother was murdered by England’s most infamous traitor. But one eventful night has changed everything Lord Julian believed about his brother’s death. Never did he suspect the woman he has just saved from certain harm is the daughter of that man. Now Julian is caught in midst of a conspiracy and desire for that woman.
Thrown together by fate, the two search for answers long denied them and along the way discover a love that can free them both.
Excerpt:
Thankful indeed she could breathe again at least for a moment. She turned to stand by Lissa, but instead she froze upon the sight. The last person she ever expected to see this night stood in front of her.
She froze in her spot. His wide mouth curved into a vague smile which could easily turn hard she suspected. He looked quite striking, handsome and elegant in his crisp black and white evening clothes. His dark eyes darkened intensely upon her. Before she had a chance to protest, his arm gripped her elbow firmly.
“Oh, no, my dear, I think not,” his utterance carried a hard edge which startled her. “I have long tried to gain an audience with you and have been reputed one way or another. If you choose to make a scene, it will not bode well for you. You may have been hiding in the nest of the Arungdon, but I can guarantee you that legally you are still the ward of my grandfather and I…”
“Please, Lord Casvelyn, you do not have to resort to threats,” she turned her head to see if any other’s attention lay upon them, but none seemed interested. Her gaze shifted back to him. “What, pray, could you have to talk to me? Charles did send his appreciation for you saving me. He assured me he had taken care of the situation and the magistrate…”
“Come. Come. Miss Rufford…or should I say Hythe. I believe there is much we could talk of.”
She glanced back over her shoulder as he edged her along beside him. “Where are you taking me? It will not be proper…”
He cut her words short. “No one will see, I can assure you. I have arranged how I can I say this a few minutes where we will not be disrupted. Then you can rush back to your lordship.”
She watched Lord Casvelyn nod to a man in front of him, a tall man tawny hair and blue eyes. The man nodded back. Immediately, she felt herself being flung into a side door, closing tightly behind her. She could only imagine why Lord Casvelyn thought it necessary to have a guard at the door.
The room was small, quaint in appearance. There was no fire lit nor candle only the moonlit shone in light. He gestured to her to sit upon a settee. She hesitated, but then complied. To her dismay he sat beside her.
She found it difficult to catch a breath with him so near. He stared at her in a manner which made her remember all too well being in his arms with his lips upon hers.
“Now will you please explain yourself so I can rejoin Charles.”
“Ah, yes, the love of your life. I have heard. Unfortunately, I tend to doubt your proclamation of feelings.”
She stared at him and he returned it. He sat close to her, too close. She scooted back but he moved, allowing only her a scant space between her and this man who made her skin shiver with just his touch. “How dare you,” she uttered under her breath. “You don’t know me. Charles and I love each other greatly…”
“Do you?” he asked in a low voice. “Are you in the habit of sharing kisses with another while in the deep throbs of love for another? Come. Do not think I have forgotten having you in my arms. Kissing you, touching you…if not interrupted, perhaps it would have lead to more than…”
She slapped him, hard, and attempted to rise. He thwarted her with his two strong hands, pulling her down to him.
“You are no gentleman!”
“Perhaps,” he answered her, but his voice softened. “Perhaps.”
His hands released her back to her seat. What did he do to her that made her act as if she had not a reasonable thought in her head?~
***Daughter of Deceit at Amazon
Jerri Hines (Carrie James Haynes)
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Twitter: @jhines340 or @CarrieJHaynes
“The name, Harebell, has its roots in magic. The name came from the fact that Scottish Bluebells are found growing in meadows frequented by hares. Some would argue, the name Harebell was given this flower due to the fact that witches were known to turn themselves into hares and hide among them. Both are interesting stories, one for the non-believer and believer alike.”
“Another name for bluebells is Dead Man’s bells. This is due to the fact that fairies were believed to cast spells on those who dare to pick or damage the beautiful, delicate flowers. The people of Scotland are fond enough of the flower to continue this tradition in the hopes of protecting the little flower.”
One Writer's Way 