The Muse




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Love Letters Series

Noted poet Blaine Hobson counts the Prince Regent among his patrons. But ever since the socialite he wished to marry took her life, he has been unable to compose a single line of poetry. With a sonnet commissioned by the Regent due in a few weeks, Blaine spends his time alternating between trying to write ... and wishing he had the courage to join his beloved in the grave.

Raised in an orphanage with her sister, seamstress Emma Tompkins lives with the guilt of her sibling’s death. Accidently finding a suicide note penned by Blaine, she resolves to keep him alive at all costs. Vigilant, she returns each day, pushing her way into his home--and losing her heart.

Can Blaine forget his beloved and return the affections of the seamstress? Or once finished with his work, will he cast Emma out of his life forever?

Regency
Rating: Sweet
Page Count: 75
Word Count: 19426
978-1-61217-166-1 Digital ISBN

Excerpt:

“I promised nothing.” Emma pulled her arm free. “I have no grand plan to steal from you or anything else.” She stepped closer. “When I told Cyrus of your letter, he was concerned as well. I convinced him to allow me entrance into your home so I could watch over you during the day.”

“What is to keep me from putting a bullet in my brain after you leave?”

“Cyrus promised to watch over you at night.” Blaine paced back and forth, dead leaves crunching underfoot with each step. “You didn’t even know who I was before Cyrus gave you that blasted coat.”

She gave him a look of utter disbelief. “I may not move among the aristocracy, but everyone knows who you are. Blaine Hobson, favored poet of the Prince Regent, the man who wrote Death Rides the Night and the even more well known, An Ode to Beauty.”

“You know of my poetry,” Blaine conceded, “but it doesn’t explain why you care whether I live or die.”

“I couldn’t save my sister.” She sighed and pushed a wayward curl out of her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe I thought if I could help you see that life is still worth living even after an unimaginable loss, I would somehow make it up to Penny.” She looked away. “I can’t live with another death on my conscience, not when I can do something to stop it,” she whispered the last. Blaine stared at her at a complete loss for words. Him, a poet, a master of words, and unable to utter a single syllable. After a moment, he cleared his throat trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling clogging it.




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