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Sherile
Reilly
Author of:
No kids! No pets! No men!
It’s the perfect life for uptight
thirty-seven-year-old Rachel McGivney, a career-woman who’s struggled for years
to gain a foothold in business and keep her emotions under control.
When Garrett Yates, her high school crush and
now a high-powered lawyer, returns to town and wants to foist Jamie Sorenson, a
mischievous nine-year-old orphan and his aggravating sheep dog, on her, Rachel
rebels.
She doesn’t want the kid or his dog, and she’s
definitely not ready to be Jamie’s guardian. That would open up too many sad
memories of a time when she was involved in a disastrous event, involving
another young child.
To complicate matters, Garrett’s presence
reminds Rachel of unrequited love. Handsome and persistent, Garrett believes in
Rachel and trusts her to be the right person for Jamie.
The
Winslow Curse
In Elizabethan England, where witches and
curses thrive, life is difficult for a woman—especially a beautiful, peasant
girl who attracts the attention of the Lord of the Manor’s son. He desires her
for his own pleasure and she mistakes it for love. When their affair is
revealed, an ancient curse is evoked.
Chapter One
The low whistle from outside alerts me
to my lover’s approach. Leaning against the stout oak chest, I tie my boot
laces and then I hasten to the door. I take an empty basket from a peg on the
wall of the small thatched cottage. I will collect firewood from the manorial
woods after I meet my beloved Richard.
Before leaving the dwelling place I glance back. The smell
of wood smoke lingers in the fireplace and nestled near it, on the best bed, my
grannie lies on her back, her breath whistling through her teeth. I hope she’ll
stay sleeping. I want more time with Richard. I caught his eye when I worked at
Winslow Manor. Richard is Lord Winslow’s eldest son and the most handsome
man—I’m sure in all the land. All the lasses love him, but he is mine—my true
love.
I tiptoe out of the stone dwelling and past the herb garden
where Grannie grows plants that she mixes into potions to help the sick.
Sweet-smelling pear and cherry blossoms scent the air. In the sky the moon
hovers, its last faint outline paying homage to the first rays of dawn.
I stop at the brook, kneel and plunge my hands into the cold
water. I splash my face and use my finger to brush my teeth. Once I have dried
my face against my sleeve I rush across the little bridge and head for the
woods, my basket bumping my leg.
I cross the field. Richard, the man I dream of marrying,
steps into the light, his black shape silhouetted against the brightening
promise of a new day. I run towards him, my heart pounding and my body yearning
for his touch.
He raises his arms and as I draw near, he says, “Good
morrow, Mistress Mary Elizabeth.” He says my name as if addressing the queen,
whom I am named after. He reaches out and I drop my basket and leap into his
arms. Laughing, we tumble to the ground.
“I have awaited the maiden who delights me as no other can,”
he says.
I fumble with the front of my dress, loosening the ties so
Richard won’t rip the garment, or later I’d have Grannie scolding me and giving
me the evil eye.
How can I expect my old grannie, with her wrinkled face and
gnarled hands, to understand the beautiful Richard? His long golden hair, tied
with a ribbon, and straight body that towers over men, surely make the gods
jealous.
“You offer a man such ripe fruit.” He nuzzles my neck and
squeezes my breasts.
I pull up my skirt and lie on my back, my eyes wide open so
I can see his beauty and know that I, above all other women, please him.
He never talks, but closes his eyes and as he enters me his
face twists. I arch my back. He moans and I bite my tongue, keeping quiet as he
has instructed. His pleasure and mine combine and we grip each other as spasms
shake our bodies.
He finishes, rolls on his back, and lies beside me. I raise
myself on one elbow and kiss him, my bare breast brushing his chest.
“When will you tell your father?” I ask in my most enticing
voice.
He pushes me aside and stands, giving an uneasy shrug.
Knowing our meeting is over, I scramble to my feet,
straighten my skirt and brush the leaves from my dress—the smell of our
love-making lingers. I cock my head to the side and offer him a mischievous
grin, the one I know he can’t resist. “Isn’t it about time we made our love
known to all those at the Manor House?”
He puts his finger
under my chin and gives me a quirky grin. “I will have to rein you in as I do a
mare.”
I giggle, knowing how he rides his mare every day.
His eyes harden. “For a maiden, who surely is a bastard, you
demand too much.” His words plunge a knife into my heart, but just as quickly
his mood changes. “I have you learning to read and write along with my brother
and sister. What more could a maiden of your standing expect?”
I won’t contradict him. He is my master and I but a peasant.
He is letting me be educated to a higher standard. However, it was Alice, his
younger sister and my dear friend, who suggested that I be allowed to attend
classes in the Manor. Richard’s father, who often gives in to his only
daughter’s requests, permitted it.
Surely Richard’s willingness to have me attend lessons with
his brother and sister means that he desires me for a wife.
His eyes twinkle and he smacks me on the behind. “Run along
and do your duties and don’t forget to collect the firewood.” He gives me a
quick kiss. “Each and every time you bewitch me,” he murmurs, and then his face
darkens.
Pleased with his utterance, I know it won’t be long before
he announces our love to the world.
For me the time can’t come fast enough.
Website: http://www.herilereilly.com/
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35664901-jamie-s-choice?from_search=true
Several years ago, before I started writing, my husband and I were travelling across Montana. While he drove, I read. It was at that moment, under the big blue Montana sky, that I knew I wanted to write books with characters that the reader sympathized with and loved.
At the time I was teaching school. I enjoyed reading aloud and doing novel studies with my students. I asked them what they would like to read and they told me about a kid everyone called the Barbarian, so I wrote Greg and the Barbarian.
I’ve always loved reading romance stories where the heroine flees to an isolated location and she has to rely on herself to get out of danger—and help the handsome hero who is tortured by an ancient curse.
My Women’s Fiction trilogy, Bringing Jamie Home, started with one question—what if a woman, who didn’t like children, became the guardian of a mischievous ten-year-old boy?
I hope you enjoy reading my books as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them.
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GREAT excerpt, Sherile! I have always loved your writing and still do. I look forward to reading the rest of, THE WINSLOW CURSE.
ReplyDeletePamela Yaye
Congratulations on your new series, Sherile. I'm looking forward to reading them.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a very interesting premise! Looking forward to reading!
ReplyDelete