On the 11th Day of Christmas My True Lord Gave To Me...With Anna Campbell and Giveaway

Eleven Mamas Plotting - Anna Campbell

ANNA CAMPBELL has written six multi award-winning historical romances for Avon HarperCollins and her work is published in eleven languages. Always a voracious reader, Anna decided when she was a child that she wanted to be a writer. Once she discovered the wonderful world of romance novels, she knew exactly what she wanted to write. Anna has won numerous awards for her Regency-set romances including Romantic Times Reviewers Choice, the Booksellers Best, the Golden Quill (twice), the Heart of Excellence, the Aspen Gold and the Australian Romance Readers Association's favorite historical romance (three times). Her books have twice been nominated for Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA Award and twice for Australia's Romantic Book of the Year.

Places to find Anna:

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11 Mamas Plotting… 

Slipping on the frosty grass, Lady Belinda Cassell grabbed the door’s rusty handle, flung it open and whirled inside. Breathlessly she slammed it shut behind her.

Just in time.

Luckily her pursuers stayed on the rise above the hut. Their strident voices rose over the distant scrape of a string ensemble and the chatter of London’s bluest bloods celebrating Yuletide at the Sheridans’ annual Christmas picnic. The mamas of the Heavenly Eleven had harried her since her first ball two weeks ago. They’d put aside natural rivalries to secure her—or rather her fortune—for one of their unimpressive sons.

“Lady Belinda!” Mrs. Borthington’s powerful soprano rang out.

Her heart racing, Belinda huddled in the dark against the door’s fragile timbers. Mrs. Borthington wasn’t the worst of the Heavenly Eleven, but she went close.

The woman gave a horse-like snort. “Bother the gel. She promised to play forfeits with Algernon.”
After a fraught silence, the women marched off, their steps on the gravel perfectly audible. Belinda played fox to these particular hounds. The image sent a chill down her spine.

Or perhaps that was the arctic temperature in this ramshackle Thames-side hut. Gingerly, in case she touched something slimy, she straightened and sucked in a ragged breath. Her senses flooded with the smells of mildew, stagnant water, rotting timber and tobacco smoke.

Tobacco smoke?

Suddenly she was nervous of what waited inside the hut as well as what waited outside. “H-hello?” she asked shakily, inching her hand toward the door handle.

She heard a rustle from the far corner and terror twisted her belly. Suddenly Mrs. Borthington didn’t seem quite so frightening. Belinda straightened, fumbling for the latch. Where on earth was it? Her hand only encountered another splintery board.

“Hello, yourself.” The rap of heels across wooden floor. “Welcome to the Tudor boatshed, now disused.” The voice was male, deep and warm with laughter. None of those qualities reassured her.

“It smells like there’s still a few dead Tudors in here.” Her eyes adjusted enough to see a large black shape looming closer. “Who are you?”

“A fellow escapee from the madness.” A small red circle flared and she realized he drew on his cheroot. Before she had a chance to object, she heard him crush it beneath his heel. “You must be an heiress.”

He hadn’t answered her. Deliberately, she guessed. “Why?”

When he laughed softly, the sound played along her nerves. “The Borthington witch seeks a well-dowered wife for her puling cub. As do the other ten matchmaking mamas of the Heavenly Eleven. If they’ve united to hunt you as a pack, you must be a rich prize indeed.”

Two could play the game of not answering. “I must return to the party.”

“Let me see if they’re gone.”

“That’s remarkably gentleman-like of you.”

She only realized she’d spoken aloud when that soft laugh shimmered across her skin again. “Isn’t it just, Lady Belinda?”

She stiffened and backed against the clammy walls. “You know my name?”

“Peace, sweet. The harridans outside were howling it.” He brushed past and opened the door. With a surge of resentment, she noticed he immediately located the latch. Then shock blasted pique to dust as she caught sight of her companion in the light.

He looked like a…pirate. A magnificently handsome pirate. Tall, lean, dark, rakish. And good heavens, was that a gold earring glinting in the weak sunlight? If anyone discovered her sequestered with such a brigand, her reputation would be in shreds.

She tensed to flee then heard Mrs. Havelock’s booming voice. “Mr. Grahame, la, you gave me a fright lurking in the bushes.”

“Your pardon, Mrs. Havelock,” the pirate said smoothly.

“Have you seen a young woman? Tall. Blonde. Wearing a yellow gown?”

Mr. Grahame’s laugh was suggestive. Another unwilling shiver of awareness rippled through Belinda. “To my regret, I haven’t. I live in hope.”

Mrs. Havelock giggled in a quite revolting fashion. “Oh, sir, you jest.”

“I suggest you search closer to the house.”

“We saw her come this way.” It was Lady Parkfield, the most terrifying member of the Heavenly Eleven.
“I’ve been alone with my cheroot the last half hour, dear ladies.”

Mr. Grahame waited while the matchmaking mamas moved away, cackling and squabbling. Then he turned to where Belinda hovered inside the doorway. “They’re gone.”

“Thank you.” She drew a shaky breath. “Mr. Grahame.”

“Now you know my name.” A smile tugged at his mouth and black eyes alight with devilry met hers. Her heart lurched and she told herself she should look away.

“Part of it.”

The smile intensified and her heart skittered wildly. He performed a deep bow, the gesture vaguely foreign although his accent was as English as her own. “Orlando Grahame at your service, Lady Belinda.”

“I…I must go.” She cursed the stammer. She wasn’t a girl who stammered. She was a girl who stood up for herself.

He didn’t shift from the doorway and suddenly his height seemed vaguely threatening. Not of violence but something dark and adult beyond her meager experience. “Perhaps I should elaborate further. I’m Orlando Grahame, late of Verona, newly come to London in search of a rich wife. I’m surprised nobody’s warned you against the Sheridans’ black sheep cousin.”

She swallowed to moisten a dry mouth and backed away, her unsteady hands tangling in her filmy skirts. “I’m new to London myself.”

The musical baritone was no longer amused. “In escaping the Heavenly Eleven, you’ve jumped from frying pan into the fire, my delightful Lady Belinda Cassell. When the interfering mamas return, as they undoubtedly will, they’ll discover us in a kiss. You’ll be well and truly compromised.”

She didn’t miss the significance of him knowing her surname. Her voice vibrated with contempt. “I’ll never marry a scoundrel. You’re wasting your time.”

“We’ll see.” With leisurely grace more intimidating than haste, he drew the door shut until thick darkness enclosed them once more.

###

London's most notorious seducer, Nicholas Challoner lives solely for revenge…

The dashing, licentious Marquess of Ranelaw can never forgive Godfrey Demarest for ruining his sister - now the time has come to repay the villain in the same coin. But one formidably intriguing impediment stands in the way of Nicholas's vengeance: Miss Antonia Smith, companion to his foe's unsuspecting daughter.

Having herself been deceived and disgraced by a rogue - banished by her privileged family as a result and forced to live a lie - Antonia vows to protect her charge from the same cruel fate. She recognizes Ranelaw for the shameless blackguard he is, and will devote every ounce of her intelligence and resolve to thwarting him.

Yet Antonia has always had a fatal weakness for rakes…

Check out an excerpt here

Places to purchase:

| Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | The Book Depository |

For readers in Australia and New Zealand, HarperCollins have released three of my books, CLAIMING THE COURTESAN, TEMPT THE DEVIL and MY RECKLESS SURRENDER as an e-bundle called THE COURTESAN COLLECTION at a bargain price. It’s out 13th December and you can get it from all local e-book retailers. | Amazon |

**Giveaway**

Anna is giving away a signed copy of Midnight's Wild Passion to 1 lucky winner. So make sure to leave a comment and to fill out the Rafflecopter form.

Don't forget to head over to Not Another Romance Blog and check out author Theresa Romain's special scene.

**Grand Prize Giveaway**

On behalf of myself, Rita and lots of awesome authors, we will be having one BIG Grand Prize given away to 1 lucky winner. The grand prize consists of a mix of books, swag, and lots of other secret goodies. Believe me, you want to enter to win this prize. Just make sure to leave a comment everyday on each post on both blogs and fill out this FORM. That's it. Super easy!

Good Luck everyone and Happy Holidays!

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