I’m working on edits for my February 2015 novella, When Good Earls Go Bad. It’s one of my zanier books; the heroine is exceedingly literal, and the hero is quite pragmatic. They share a love of books, toast, and honesty. Here’s a bit from when Annabelle and Matthew are walking home, and she’s taken his arm:
Goodness, he was strong. Maybe he did do his own housework; bringing in firewood, beating rugs, moving furniture around, and other tasks would certainly build up his muscles. Perhaps there were different requirements for Earls of the Scottish persuasion so it was necessary for them to be all muscular, as well as handsome.
Or maybe it was only this one. In which case she was quite pleased she had not ended up with, say, the gouty Earl with the high-pitched cackle and a penchant for eating smelly fish.
Not that she knew if this one ate smelly fish, but she knew about the rest of it.
After I turn the edits in for this one, I’m launching into edits for Put Up Your Duke, and then–? I’m not sure!
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