Tudor Christmas Tidings
Make Merry at Court
…with three Tudor Christmas stories!
In Christmas at Court Sir John Talbot and Lady Alice’s secret betrothal must wait until Henry Tudor claims the throne. Next in Secrets of the Queen’s Lady the lady-in-waiting to Anne of Cleves is unexpectedly reunited with a handsome—younger—diplomat at the palace’s festivities! And in His Mistletoe Lady Catherine seeks help from a mysterious Spaniard to free her father in time for Christmas!
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About Jenni Fletcher
Jenni Fletcher is from the north coast of Scotland and now lives in Yorkshire where she writes historical romance novels. She studied English at Cambridge University before doing a PhD on Edwardian literature & psychology at Hull. She has been nominated for 4 RoNA awards and won for Short Romantic Fiction in 2020. In her spare time she loves baking and, of course, reading.
Social Media Links – @JenniAuthor
About Blythe Gifford
After many years in public relations, advertising, and marketing, Blythe Gifford started writing seriously after a corporate layoff. Ten years and one layoff later, she became an overnight success when she sold to the Harlequin Historical line. Her books, set in the 14th to 17th centuries, typically incorporate real historical events and characters. The Chicago Tribune has called her work “the perfect balance between history and romance.” Blythe lives and works along Chicago’s lakefront.
Facebook page: www.facebook.com/BlytheGifford
About Amanda McCabe
Amanda wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen–a vast historical epic starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class (and her parents wondered why math was not her strongest subject…)
She’s never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA Award, the Romantic Times BOOKReviews Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers Best, the National Readers Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion. She lives in Santa Fe with a Poodle, a cat, a wonderful husband, and a very and far too many books and royal memorabilia collections.
When not writing or reading, she loves taking dance classes, collecting cheesy travel souvenirs, and watching the Food Network–even though she doesn’t cook.
She studied the room with the same narrowed, matchmaking eyes he had seen too often with his mother. “My husband does have a sister in Valladolid…”
“I cannot think of marrying again until I leave England.”
“Perhaps not,” Manuelita sighed. “It does feel as if all our lives are frozen for a time. But we can still make merry at Christmas!” A new group appeared in the doorway, two pretty ladies.
“Ah, there is Mistress Dormer now,” Manuelita said. “You can see why Suarez is so besotted! It must be almost time for the queen to process to Mass.”
Diego glanced at the petite, golden-haired Mistress Dormer. She was indeed pretty, but it was the lady beside her that captured his attention. She did not wear the fine gowns of the others, but a traveling skirt and doublet of green wool, the sleeves slightly shabby, her gleaming chestnut hair escaping from a netted caul to lay against her white neck. She was small and slim, with a pointed little chin and shimmering, jewel-bright green eyes. She bit her lip as she studied the crowd, as if she was shy, and hung back a bit behind Mistress Dormer.
Suddenly, her gaze met his, and her eyes widened. Her cheeks turned bright pink, and she turned away—only to glance back again, like a delicate, frightened, lovely little fawn.
“Who is that lady with Mistress Dormer?” he asked Manuelita, watching the mystery lady as she whispered with Mistress Dormer. She peeked at him again, making him smile.
Manuelita’s gaze sharpened, as if she was interested by his interest, and he knew he could give nothing of his thoughts away. Or she would be writing to his mother about his imminent betrothal to a lady he hadn’t even yet met. “I do not know. She must be new to Court. Very new, to judge by her travel clothes. She’s rather pretty, isn’t she, despite that ghastly skirt.” She turned to one of the men near them. “Don Pablo, do you know that lady with Mistress Dormer?”
Don Pablo, a notorious old connoisseur of female beauty, rubbed at his silver beard as he examined the lady. “I believe I did hear something of her this afternoon. Her name is Catherine Greaves. Her mother is Spanish, but her father is a great scandal, locked in the Tower now. I am not sure why Queen Mary keeps her close. But she must have her royal reasons, I suppose. Keep one’s enemies closest…”
Greaves. The daughter of Diego’s secret contact in the Tower. Tasting the bitter tang of disappointment, he turned away from her pretty face and stared out at the gray river. The one lady who had intrigued him in many years—and she was the very one he could not draw close to at all.