Top Ten Things That Make A Regency A Regency

The Regency historical romance. What could be grander? But would it be a Regency if it didn’t contain at least one of the following?

1818 Guide to Cravat Styles

10. Cravats

Can anyone think of the Regency period without imagining all those handsome men in cravats? Perhaps I’ve watched one too many Jane Austen movies (not that such a thing is possible), but for me, those crisp, white folds signal early 19th century like nothing else. Or, in the case of The Demon Duke, a carefully crafted black masterpiece, complete with skull pin. Ah, a fine Regency gentleman, clothed in boots, breeches, waistcoat, and cravat. Sign me up, please!

9. Titles, titles, everywhere…

Speaking of gentlemen, when we crack open a Regency romance, we find dukes and earls and viscounts and marquesses. We find dowager duchesses and countesses and baronesses and more. And we love it. Sure, there are misters and misses mixed in, and those of no title at all. But for many of us, the title somehow gives that magical, fairytale essence we love. Who cares if there were really fewer than two dozen dukes in all of England? I, for one, can never get enough. Hence my new Put Up Your Dukes series.

By Unknown 1823 artist [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
1823 Ballgown
8. Those empire gowns

Who doesn’t dream of strolling through gardens while clad in a muslin gown, complete with a jaunty spencer? Or of twirling around the ballroom in the finest silk, with a high waist but low neckline, capturing the attention of every rogue in the room with delicately gloved hands, ringlets surrounding one’s face, and an admirable figure? Yeah, okay, so larger ladies like me might have struggled in such styles, but we can fancy ourselves a Regency-era Cinderella, can’t we?

7. A grand ball

Speaking of ballrooms, if you’re dancing in one, it must be at a ball, right? Is there anything more romantic than waltzing about in the arms of the object of your affections? Of spying him or her across the room and exchanging a quick but meaningful glance? Of perhaps escaping to the gardens or the library for a not-so-innocent interlude? There isn’t for me. In my mind, in my reading, I can dance like I’m on one of those dancing competitions – and winning. We won’t talk about real life skills.

Hyde Park and west Mayfair

6. Mayfair

Ah, Mayfair. That most delightful (read: rich) West End of London. Grosvenor Square, Berkeley Square, Hanover Square… Squares-O-Rama, all featuring the finest townhouses and perhaps the opportunity to bump into a beaux at Gunther’s Ices, Bullock’s Egyptian hall, or even Hatchard’s bookshop.

5. Hyde Park

Right next to Mayfair, of course, is Hyde Park – the place to see and be seen in the late afternoon, at least for London’s elite, especially along Rotten Row. Can’t you just picture handsome lords riding along on fine horses, horses perhaps procured from Tattersall’s, tipping their hats to ladies strolling or riding by? Could there be anything sexier? (Don’t answer that; I’m lost in my Regency fantasy here.)

1816 Phaeton

4. Phaetons or barouches

And speaking of riding, one simply must have the finest carriage to show off one’s wealth and status – much like owning an expensive luxury car today. The most luxurious barouche was a good, solid, Mercedes-level vehicle, while the elegantly outfitted phaeton more a hot sports car – perhaps a Lamborghini (or Lambo, as my son calls them). Not all would have been at those levels, of course – but let’s just go with it. It’s all about the fantasy.

3. The ton

Even fantasies have to face reality sometimes, though, right? And for many a couple wanting a moment alone, that reality would have come in the form of the ton, the top echelon of society eager to judge the behaviors and actions of others, to determine who should move in the finest circles, and who should not. Were you unlucky enough to be caught in a compromising position, you might find yourself in need of #2.

 By T. Malton (British Library [1]) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Many a Regency couple married at St. James’ in Hanover Square
2. A special wedding license

Ah, nothing sounds more Regency that a gentleman procuring a special license in order to wed. Special licenses were rare, hard to come by, and expensive, so what better way to emphasize the hero’s status than by his ability to acquire such a license? Normal people had to wait for the banns to be called, a process which took weeks and during which people could raise objections to the union. And who’s got time for that if #1 is involved?

1. A scandal

Ah, yes. A scandal! What could make a Regency romance juicier than an event of scandalizing proportions? Not much, which is why they’re so common, I’m betting. There are few things that truly cause romantic scandals in our 21st century day and age, so how mesmerizing is it to ponder an era in which being caught alone with a gentleman could lose you your reputation, in which slights of honor could mean being called out to a duel, in which breaking any of the many social rules and regulations could have effects nearly unfathomable now? It’s what makes such tales exciting – the scandal itself, and then the ways our hero, heroine, or both, work to overcome them.

A Regency wedding proposal – or perhaps a tete-a-tete in a garden?

What would the Regency be without the Regent himself? Prince George, soon to be George IV.

Now of course many a fine Regency romance deviates from this list, either in part or in whole. It’s become much more common to feature locales other than London, heroes other than titled gentlemen, and heroines more likely to serve as spies than sip tea. We’ve got Regencies in Scotland, Ireland, and India. We’ve got thieves and vicars and merchants as heroes; governesses and actresses and seamstresses as heroines.

The expansion of the Regency romance is exciting and inspiring.

Still, for those of us who love the Regency era romance, these Top Ten are those little symbols, those specific ideas, that make us both smile and sigh and feel right at home among those dukes and debutantes, and make me want to always #ReadARegency.

At least me.

How about you? What would you add or delete from this list?  


Writer Wednesday: Meet Laurie Benson, Historical Romance Author!

Welcome back to Writer Wednesday! We were on hiatus last week while I launched my own Regency, The Demon Duke, but I’m thrilled to be back, especially since I get to present historical romance author Laurie Benson to you!

Laurie and I met on social media (she posts wonderful information on her blog), and we share a love of the Regency period, so I’m excited to have her here today to tell us a bit about herself and her newest release, The Unexpected Countess.

Take it away, Laurie!


What inspires you to write?

I write romances set in the early 19th century and draw most of my writing inspiration from history. I read a lot of non-fiction books and sometimes when I discover a particularly intriguing snippet of history, my mind will play the “what if” game with the facts I uncover. While I was thinking up story ideas for my latest book, An Unexpected Countess, I had read about the theft of the French crown jewels during the French Revolution and learned that there was no trace of most of them during the Regency era. I kept thinking about where they were and who had them. The plot for An Unexpected Countess was built around those musings and it became a treasure hunt romance where my hero and heroine are both after the same piece of the missing French crown jewels.

Name one interesting thing you learned researching/writing your last book.

Aside from the theft of the jewels, one fun thing I discovered while doing research for An Unexpected Countess was that in the late eighteenth century, people were fascinated by electricity. Friction machines were developed to generate mild electric shock and used to amuse spectators at public exhibitions. During the Regency era, these Electrifying Machines became hugely popular and eventually cheap enough to find their way into the homes of the gentry. Using an Electrifying Machine became an unusual way to entertain both the male and female guests during an evening at home. Just imagine going to your friend’s house for dinner and then receiving a mild shock of electricity afterwards.

Name two things people don’t know about you.

The first is that my favorite trope to write and read is enemies-to-lovers. I love the verbal sparring that happens in those books. And the second thing people don’t know about me is that my all-time favorite snack is trail mix with some kind of chocolate in it. I’m an avid hiker, and can work through problems and find my calm place while I walk for miles through the woods. I always have trail mix with me on hikes and I think I associate eating it with feeling calm. Just writing this has made me want to grab some.

What are you currently writing?

I’m in the process of writing my next three-book series for my publisher which is set in Regency era England and revolves around the life and loves of three sisters. So far, the first two books are marriages of convenience. I’ve still have yet to determine the romantic fate of the youngest sister.


A Bit About An Unexpected Countess

The Earl of Hartwick delights in scandalizing Society with his behavior. But it’s his turn to be scandalized when, leaving a liaison, he bumps into Miss Sarah Forrester—in the rain, at night, on a rooftop!

Sarah is hunting for a diamond, and the last thing she needs is the infuriating Hart distracting her. But he’s looking for the jewel, too! They may be rivals, but the sparks between them are uncontrollable. And soon Sarah finds herself longing for another treasure—becoming Hart’s American countess!

Scoop Up An Unexpected Countess here:

Amazon: getBook.at/UnexpectedAmzUni
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2kjGkIM
iBooks: http://apple.co/2jUPGHq
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2jUOFiK


A Bit About Laurie:

Laurie Benson is an award-winning historical romance author who writes books about men in boots and the women who fall for them. She began her writing career as an advertising copywriter, where she learned more than you could ever want to know about hot dogs and credit score reports. When she isn’t at her laptop avoiding laundry, Laurie can be found browsing antique shops, going on ridiculously long hikes, or sitting in her car on the school pickup line. She lives with her husband and two sons in a house filled with testosterone—even her bunny is a boy. Laurie is represented by Courtney Miller-Callihan of Handspun Literary Agency.

Want to connect further with Laurie? Find her here:

Website: http://lauriebenson.net/
Historical Blog (The Cozy Drawing Room): https://thecozydrawingroom.com/
Twitter: @lauriebwrites
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LaurieBensonAuthor


Thank you so much for joining us today, Laurie! It was fabulous to have you here. 

Congrats to Ann S, winner of my VIP Email Club $10 Amazon GC giveaway!

 

Congratulations to Ann S., who won a $10 Amazon gift card in The Demon Duke Release Day giveaway, just for being a VIP Email Club Member!

Want access to giveaways like this, as well as exclusive excerpts, info on fellow authors, on new releases, and more? Join my VIP Email Club today!

And don’t miss The Demon Duke, out now! Here’s what one Amazon reviewer had to say about it:

“This book is one of the best books I’ve read this year. Margaret has a way with words that just draws a body in and won’t let go. Damon the Demon Duke had me crying for him with what he went through. And I think that Grace was the perfect heroine for him… Their romance was so adorable… This book had a few shocking twists and was very fast paced. I will be reading it over many more times.”

– Belinda, Amazon Reviewer

 

The Demon Duke has arrived. Find him on Amazon, iBooks, Kobo, and B&N!


 

More whispers and gossip about him had reached her in the recent weeks. Some said he’d shot a man over a card game. Others, that he rode a beast of a horse pell-mell through Hyde Park, leaping bushes and forcing spectators to rush out of his way, lest they be trampled. Emmeline’s friend Adelaide insisted his eyes had turned orange and glowed in a possessed manner when he’d encountered Lady Sarah Trumble at Gunther’s last week.

Grace didn’t believe any of it. First off, what would a devil be doing getting ices at Gunther’s, anyway?

 


The Demon Duke has arrived!

Welcome him to your ereader or your bookshelves here:

http://bit.ly/MLDemonDuke

Writer Wednesday: Maggie Tideswell & her new release, Goodbye My Love

Welcome to Writer Wednesday!

Today I’m delighted to bring you paranormal romance author Maggie Tideswell, who’s dropped in to share a bit about her newest release, Goodbye, My Love – including a special excerpt!

So please, grab your favorite libation, settle in, and enjoy! And of course I hope you’ll leave some love in the comments.

 


Roxanne’s Ghost Saga

Roxanne’s Ghost Saga, a new mystery series from internationally acclaimed author Maggie Tideswell, is set against the stunningly beautiful backdrop of modern-day South Africa. It is a compelling ghost story of identical twin sisters’ love for the same man, and the magical connection the women share.

And the theme?  Nothing is what it seems.

Here, we move into the realms of the mists of time that could either reveal or conceal.

Book 1, Goodbye, My Love, sets the scene. It introduces country vet, Ben, his four-year-old autistic daughter and the would-be nanny, Jessica James. Jess’ interview with Ben for the nanny position takes place on Friday the 13th. An attraction between the two is immediate, which by all accounts isn’t entirely normal.

Ben’s three oddball sisters-in-law descend on him for the anniversary of his wife Roxanne’s death. They try to convince Ben that Roxanne isn’t dead, more than likely to put an end to whatever might develop between Ben and Jessica. But Ben knows that no one could have survived what led to Roxanne’s death.

His daughter, diagnosed as autistic, only sometimes does she display the symptoms that led to her diagnosis. Autism is not a disease, it’s a condition. A condition with symptoms that can’t be turned on and off at will. So…what is the child really suffering from?

Ben’s wife’s twin sister, Millicent, is accompanied by an over-board caricature of a psychic to Ben’s home in order to help them find Roxanne. Of course, Millicent isn’t happy to find Jess already in Ben’s house—trouble is imminent. But only as far as Ben’s ancient housekeeper, will allow her to. What does the housekeeper know that will keep Millicent’s ruffled feathers under control?

More importantly…

Where is Roxanne?


An Excerpt from Goodbye, My Love:

Chapter 1

Does anyone live here?

The house looked deserted, kind of spooky. Jess couldn’t see any other houses nearby. Sally had not been kidding—this was a rather isolated place.

Dilapidated outbuildings behind the sprawling house looked as unused as the house itself. Some sort of creeper covered most of the buildings except the house—it looked far too fragile to bear the added weight.

There were what looked like turrets on each end of the house, and a domed one in between. That might be a skylight. Jess worried her bottom lip. What century was this place built?

Lightning played over the majestic mountains behind the house, silhouetting it against the darkening sky, but down here in the valley, the late sun cast long shadows over the overgrown garden.

It all fit so well with Friday the thirteenth, because this was creepy. What had she been thinking? She should have postponed the interview until Monday. One weekend surely wouldn’t have made that much of a difference.

Jess studied the map on her tablet, which she held propped up against the steering wheel. This could be the right place, but she had thought that about both the previous two places, and neither had turned out to be Weltevreden. Neither had been as eerie as this place, either.

No, this couldn’t be it. Tapping her finger against the edge of the tablet, she studied the house again. This whole thing smacked of a Friday the thirteenth Sally-prank.

Sally, her bestie since high school, ran a very successful employment agency. The professional image notwithstanding, she still loved pranks of any kind—she would never outgrow them.

Her eyes had lit up that morning when Jess sat in front of her desk, mugs of coffee steaming on the polished wood between them. The platter of doughnuts had been for Jess’ benefit. Sally and her perpetual dieting.

“Something different,” Sally mused, tapping her pen against her front teeth, then pressed a button on her laptop, and reached for the sheet of paper the printer spewed out. “This might be just the thing. It came in just now.” She’d tossed her platinum curls over her shoulder, grinning at Jess.

Another thing Sally would never outgrow, her Barbie-doll looks.

“It has my name on it, then.” Jess leaned her forearms on Sally’s desk. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.” She grinned back, barely able to contain her excitement. “Does it involve a man?”

Neither Sally nor Jess had found their Mr. Full Potential yet, although both had been ready for wedded bliss, the kids and the house in the suburbs thing, a long time ago.

“As a matter of fact it does, but he doesn’t seem to be in the market. It says here that a nanny is required for a four-year-old autistic girl. Dr. Arnold specifically requested that only older women be put forward for the position.”

“How old-fashioned. Where is this job?”

“In the Wellington area.” Sally frowned at the monitor.

“There you go. He won’t find anybody qualified to work that far from Cape Town. It is his child, I presume?”

“It is, but do you seriously want to give this a go?” Sally looked worried as only she could. It went with the Barbie look. “I’m intrigued. What kind of doctor is he?”

“A veterinary surgeon. And a widower, it says here. That is all the information I have for you, I’m afraid.” Sally sat back in her chair. “I shouldn’t disregard so specific an instruction, Jess, but just this once, I’ll make an exception. Then it’s up to you to change his mind for him. It’ll be in his own best interest in the end.” She passed an information sheet across the desk. “I’ll tell Dr. Arnold to expect you at four. I’d pack an overnight bag if I were you. Call me, okay?”

Now, sitting in front of the house that might or might not belong to Dr. Ben Arnold, Jess didn’t feel all that confident anymore. And it didn’t really sound like a prank, unless Sally had kept some information to herself.

There was only one way to find out, and that was to knock on the door and ask.

If there was anybody in the house to ask.

Switching the engine off, she consulted the rear-view mirror to apply some color to her lips and pat her shoulder length bob into place. She took a moment to admire the rich auburn color in the late afternoon sunshine and sighed.

I don’t know about this. It was a long way from Cape Town.

What did people do around here for fun?

Trying her best to ignore the goose bumps on her forearms, she opened the car door and stepped out. Her heels sank into the gravel, her shadow stretching all the way back to the gate.

Only when she turned toward the house did she see the man sitting on the top step in the shadows, his shoulder against the railing, one knee pulled up with his arm resting on top of it. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and it looked as if his feet were bare, too.

Was he there a moment ago? Why didn’t I see him?

Smoothing her palms down her red pencil skirt, she started toward the house and the man on the steps. If he wasn’t Dr. Arnold, maybe he could give her directions.

Taking a deep breath, Jess reminded herself that she wasn’t superstitious about this Friday the thirteenth nonsense. People liked to scare themselves with the silliest things. What was supposed to happen on this day? It was a day like any other.

That certainly looked like a real man on the steps. He wasn’t going to bite her. Today being a Friday and the thirteenth meant nothing, but now that she’d thought of it, the idea would stick with her like the taste of garlic.

Leaving the car door open for a quick escape should she need it, she’d gone no more than a few steps when she heard something other than the crunch of her shoes on the gravel. It sounded suspiciously like a dog whining.

She slowly turned her head, curling her fingers into the fabric of her skirt. It couldn’t be a dog. She hadn’t seen any dogs when she drove through the gate.

I don’t do dogs!

Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw them. They were right next to her car, beside the door she’d deliberately left open, a whole pack of them. Their lips curled away from their teeth, their tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths, dripping saliva onto the gravel. Yellowish eyes watched every move she made.

Where did they come from?

How many were there?

They cut her off from the safety of the Fiesta!

Now she had only one way to go—into that house. Why hadn’t that man called them off? Why wasn’t he helping her?

Slowly, making no sudden moves, she took another step toward the porch. The dogs followed her. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Another couple of quick steps toward the house. The dogs did the same. She broke into a trot, her scream shattered the still of the afternoon.

Missing the first step, she stumbled, recovered her balance, and took the rest of the stairs two at a time. The dogs were on her heels, whining and yelping, their breaths hot on the backs of her legs.

Just as a sharp whistle rent the air, but looking at the dogs, she careened into the man before the noise had even died down. Her momentum sent them both crashing to the floorboard. She landed on top of him, but with the dogs all around them, she hid her face in his neck. Another whistle— right in her ear—made her cringe, but the dogs were gone.

He lifted his head off the floorboards to glare at her, his hands at her waist, as if he was about to lift her off him. Stubble covered his jaw, his lips pressed into a tight line. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He dragged his eyes out of her gaping blouse to meet her stare.

They had to be the greenest pair of eyes she’d ever seen, and he was clearly not amused.

Then she noticed how much leg was exposed by her skirt bunched around her hips and she quickly scrambled to her feet, pushing her skirt back down her legs.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her face on fire. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but from the corner of her eye, she saw the stranger slowly unfold himself from the floor. Up and up he went, until she felt him looking down at her. Even in her heels, the top of her head barely reached his nose.

With fists on his hips, he glared at her. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she lifted her chin and stared back.

Despite her bravado, she was intimidated and she had no idea if she had reason to be. She didn’t have a clue who he was. For all she knew, he was a vagrant taking advantage of an abandoned house.

She quickly looked him up and down, hoping he wouldn’t notice. A vagrant—looking like that? This man looked too strong, too well-fed, and clean, to be homeless. He smelled good too, of soap and sunshine. Wide shoulders tapered to a flat stomach and slim hips in a pair of well-washed denim cutoffs. The button was undone and the zipped half down. And he had a hard-on!

Jess swallowed with difficulty, forcing her eyes to the garden. Maybe he was the gardener or something.

If he was the gardener, he wasn’t very good at it, judging by the state of the place. The flowerbeds were overgrown with weeds, and grass seeds reached for the sky. With a bit of care, it could be a rather pleasant garden.

Her attention whipped back to the man when he spoke. “What’s wrong with you, woman? Those are lap dogs.” His voice was deep, the timbre vibrating on her skin. “They thought you were playing with them.”

She’d forgotten about the dogs. Erections did that to her, they made her forget everything else. She took another look at the animals. There were only four of them, and now that they were at a safe distance and there was a man on hand whom they seemed to obey, they didn’t look all that fierce, or even very big. By panicking, she’d unnecessarily gotten them both in a rather embarrassing situation.

The veranda was shadowed, despite the lightning dancing over the mountains, yet the peeling paint was clearly visible. She should ask this man for directions so that she could be on her way, but at that moment her nose itched and she sneezed instead. She just barely managed to get her hand across her nose. The dust from the floorboards, and she most likely had it all over her face now. She needed to freshen up before she met with Dr. Arnold. Rubbing her hands over her face was probably making matters worse.

“Bless you,” the man said, his jaw clenched. “Explain yourself.” Fists planted on his hips, his bare chest rose and fell. Jess’ fingers itched to test the contours more fully before she realized that the man was actually angry.

Who was he? And what was he so angry about? Knocking him over had been an accident, which he could have avoided it if he’d controlled the animals sooner. His annoyance didn’t stop him from giving her a thorough inspection, though.

Barely suppressing the urge to stamp her foot, Jess snapped, “Those animals should be locked up.” The hand she pointed at the dogs was streaked with dust. Dropping it, she rubbed at the smudge with her other hand.

“They were, until a few minutes ago. When the visitor I expected didn’t show up, I let them out again. Who are you and what do you want?”

“How rude!” Jess gasped. “Do you welcome all visitors half naked?” His arousal was disturbing her.

“Uninvited visitors never come into the yard,” he growled. He knew she knew about his condition. “That’s what the clinic entrance is for. And I’m not half naked, I’m shirtless because I took it off when my visitor failed to show up for her four o’clock appointment. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s hot. If you’re Jessica James, you’re way too late—”

“The directions weren’t very clear,” she interrupted. “I got lost.” Hesitating only a moment, she stuck her hand out to him. “You’re Dr. Arnold?”

He ignored her hand and question, reaching instead for the shirt draped over the railing behind him and shrugged it on. Doctor or not, the man has no manners.

Buttoning the shirt, he leaned in closer. “So, it’s my fault you can’t follow a set of simple instructions? Look, miss, you might as well go back to wherever you came from. The position has been filled. Good day.” He started to turn away.

“What? When? I had an interview for this afternoon!”

He glanced at his wristwatch. “You missed the appointment. You wouldn’t have gotten the job anyway. Sorry for the inconvenience. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye, Ms. James.”

She noticed his eyes on her lips as he dismissed her. “Just a minute. You’re going to disregard my application because I’m a few minutes late? I have excellent credentials, and the agency—”

“Had been told that only older women need to apply.”

“So you’re dismissing my application because of my age, is that it?”

“Yes. And you’re more than a few minutes late. The appointment was for four o’clock sharp, and it’s nearly six now. Take your gripes up with your agent, Ms. James. Your timekeeping actually has very little to do with it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re wasting my time.”

Jess narrowed her eyes. “I pity the person you’ve employed, if that is in fact the truth. You are a very rude man,

Dr. Arnold.”

He wasn’t exactly what she’d expected—in his early to mid-thirties and attractive, in a wildly blond caveman kind of way. And hot.

If only he had some manners.

It had sounded quite romantic when Sally first told her about this position, but the reality was far from romantic. She didn’t need this man or his job, and especially not his erection. There had to be other positions available in Cape Town. Sally would find her a good job, with interesting work. She would get into her car and drive away without a backward glance.

Not being given a fair interview had nothing to do with Friday the thirteenth. A damp gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes as she turned toward the stairs. It had everything to do with him being turned on by her.

Jess remembered the dogs when they jumped to their feet, tails wagging.

She froze, clutching her skirt. They might be small, but they were dogs. They had teeth. Damn it, she was going to need his help to get back to her car. Gnawing the corner of her mouth, she glanced at him. Would he help her, or would he cross his arms and enjoy the spectacle from the veranda?

Before she could do anything, the door behind them creaked open and pale, gnarled fingers curled around the edge of the wood. Jess took an involuntary step closer to the doctor, goosebumps covering her entire body, her hand to her throat.   Oh, God.

Find Goodbye, My Love here: http://tinyurl.com/n2ko8u4

 


A Bit About Maggie:

Maggie lives in Johannesburg, South Africa with hubby Gareth. Over the years she’s worked in everything from nursing to catering, and then she started writing love stories. With three kids, a girl and two boys, and eleven cats at that time, life could become quite interesting.

The paranormal, things that happen for which there are no logical explanations and ghosts, are of particular interest to Maggie. What events in a person’s life would prevent that person from ‘resting’ after death? The ‘Old Religion’ is another special interest.

And love, of course. Why do people fall in love? What keeps them together for a lifetime when so many relationships fail?

Want to connect further with Maggie? Find her here:

Blog: https://maggietideswell.blogspot.com/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Maggie-Tideswell/e/B005GJ3DG8


Thanks so much for joining us, Maggie! Best of luck with your new release!