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An Austen-inspired Short Story Duet
Enjoy two tea
parties, two romances and two characters from one of the world’s most beloved
authors.
Tea for Two:
An Austen-Inspired
Short Story Duet
by Bianca White
Genre: Historical Romance
Jane Austen and tea.
What more could one ask for?
Enjoy two tea parties, two romances and
two characters from one of the world’s most beloved authors.
In this historical romance short story duet gossip-loving Mrs Jennings meddles
in affairs of the heart, and scandalous Henry Crawford turns heads once again!
Be swept away by the amusements of the Regency tea party in
these Austen-inspired short stories. Delight in the sweet romance, dancing,
gossip and, of course, tea.
“But indeed I would rather have nothing but tea.”
― Jane Austen, Mansfield Park
Tea
for Two comprises two short stories:
Jilted
Lord Asher Mandeville is heartbroken when his childhood
love, Miss Tabitha Rowe, jilts him only weeks before their wedding.
Asher refuses to accept Tabitha’s rejection and chases after
his betrothed to demand an explanation.
Tabitha is determined to escape him, but Asher’s shattered
heart will accept nothing other than her return.
Wooing
Miss Woodforde
Jasper Trevethan loves Miss Sophie Woodforde, but he is a
penniless rake. Sophie would never marry him, even if he were rich.
As an impoverished companion, Sophie serves the whims of
others while pining for her employer’s scandalous nephew.
When an unexpected inheritance transforms Sophie’s life, she
becomes the target of fortune hunters.
Before another scoundrel steals his love, Jasper must prove
his devotion and woo Miss Woodforde. But Sophie would rather become an old maid
than marry a man who only wants her for her money, especially Mr Trevethan.
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Excerpt from Wooing Miss Woodforde
He headed to the drawing room.
While Sophie continued to hold his heart,
he could not bring himself to marry another. Yes, he had wasted his days living
off his brother while indulging in a life of idleness and pleasure-seeking. Now
he had no option but to pray his aunt left him her fortune. Perhaps then he
could offer for Sophie. She will never
marry a rake, you fool. As usual, he tamped down the bitter truth, but the
tiny flicker of hope that one day she may be his was the only thing that
prevented him from sinking further.
His aunt dropped onto the sofa before the
crackling hearth. “It does not help your cause that you continue to associate
with that scoundrel, Mr Crawford.”
Sophie carried out her duties in efficient
silence, pretending not to hear the details of his scandalous associations. How
he longed to take her away from this life of servitude. Someone so good, kind
and selfless deserved better.
After pouring the tea, she handed her
employer a cup.
Without a word of thanks to her companion,
his aunt continued, “There is still talk about his scandalous affair with Mrs
Rushworth. You should end the connection, for it will only sully your name
further. Your reputation as a rake does not help matters, but being associated
with an adulterer will not earn you a respectable bride. What must my dear
sister think of her favourite now?”
He accepted his cup from Sophie with his
head down and muttered his thanks. Shame gnawed at his insides. If his mother
had not died of typhus before he reached his tenth year, she would have been
sorely disappointed in him.
Why could he not be a better man? He should
have sought a profession after university. If he had done something useful,
perhaps, he may have earned Sophie’s good opinion and won her heart. Instead,
he had wasted his life. He was a hopeless rake beyond salvage, in love with a
woman far above him in noble character. Even if he were rich, she would always
be too good for him.
Sophie sat on the sofa next to his aunt and
twiddled with a delicate curl at her nape.
He had to ask again. “Are you certain you
are well, Miss Woodforde?”
“Stop trying to misdirect the attention
from yourself, Trevethan.” Aunt Hammond sipped at her tea.
Wispy tendrils of steam rose from the beige
liquid in his cup, and he tamped down the urge to ask for something stronger.
Liquor would have to wait. Even though nothing eased the painful longing within
him lately.
He could not resist being drawn to the
source of his yearning while she stared at the flickering flames in the hearth.
What had happened to the woman who enjoyed lecturing him about the latest
philanthropic project she wished to support or teased him following the gossip
surrounding his misadventures? Not that he had many these days unless one
counted spending the evenings drinking brandy with Crawford while they both
pined for the women they loved but could not possess.
“Trevethan!” he jerked his head towards his
aunt. Her narrowed gaze bore into him. Had he given himself away?
She glowered, then said, “Miss Woodforde
has received some surprising news today that has unsettled her.”
Sophie’s head shot up; her wide gaze
directed towards her employer.
“I hope it is nothing serious?” My God, she
was ill. “Is there anything I can
do?”
Aunt Hammond scoffed. “It is not unwelcome
news—well, not for Miss Woodforde.”
“Mrs Hammond.” Sophie pleaded, but as
usual, his aunt could not be silenced.
“Miss Woodforde is now an heiress with
twenty thousand.”
His breath stuttered.
On the opposite sofa, Sophie’s head lolled
forward, and she ran a palm across her forehead.
Sophie was a wealthy woman—a single,
wealthy woman. That meant she no longer needed to work for his aunt. He would
not see her when he visited.
Aunt Hammond asked, “Will you not offer
your congratulations?”
He glanced at his aunt before returning his
attention to Sophie, whose shoulders slumped.
A burning sensation spread down his gullet,
and he swallowed. “Congratulations, Miss Woodforde.”
His aunt sniffed. “She is almost maudlin;
anyone would think a beloved family member had died.”
Sophie continued to stare into the teacup
in her lap. She would leave, and he would never see her again.
Aunt Hammond prattled on. “Heaven knows
why, but she wishes to keep it a secret. She should marry, yet she insists she
will remain in my employment.”
Of course, her sense of duty would not
allow her to abandon his aunt. Selfish thoughts about her leaving had
distracted him from the more pressing issue. Another man would steal her from
him. His heart skipped a beat. He could not allow it.
Bianca
White writes passionate and spicy historical romance.
Bianca
loves history and has a degree in history and history of art. The word
"research" is often used as an excuse to drag members of her family
around every stately home and castle wherever they go. Nothing, not even
the grumbling of said family, will keep her away from a historical fashion
exhibition.
When she's
not writing, Bianca feeds her addiction to romance novels. She also loves
baking and watching movies. Thanks to her love of baking (and eating), she
feels the need to balance it with a little activity and enjoys tai chi,
aerobics and swimming.
Bianca
lives in West Yorkshire, England, with her husband and two children.
To receive
all the latest news from Bianca White, and a bit of history in your inbox, sign
up for her mailing list at Bianca White Writes.
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As Christmas approaches, I always remember the anticipation I felt waiting for the Sears Christmas Catalog to arrive. It promised a world of colorful, brand-new toys—and hours spent flipping its pages fed my childhood imagination. That memory made me wonder: what toys did children in 1880s Texas look forward to each year, long before glossy catalogs and department store windows?
Childhood in 1880s Texas: More Chores Than Play
Our modern idea of childhood as a time reserved for school, play, and daydreams didn’t truly emerge until after World War II. For families on the Texas frontier, children were expected to pitch in with work as soon as they could walk—gathering eggs, carrying water, helping in the fields, and tending younger siblings. Playtime happened after chores and, for many, toys were handmade or passed down, not bought from a store.
Toys of the Frontier: Creativity Over Consumerism
In the 1880s, most children’s toys reflected the world around them, their families’ skills, and what was possible with limited means.
Cornhusk Dolls: Girls often made dolls from twisted cornhusks, scraps of cloth, and bits of yarn. These simple toys were cherished and sometimes dressed up for holidays or special occasions.
Whittled Wooden Toys: Boys and fathers used pocketknives to whittle toy animals, spinning tops, or toy guns from leftover wood scraps. Creativity and resourcefulness were prized.
Rag Balls and Homemade Games: Fabric scraps became balls for tossing, and children played games like tag, marbles, or hopscotch drawn in dirt near the house.
Hoops and Sticks: Children raced with metal or wooden hoops and sticks, seeing who could keep their hoop rolling the longest.
Paper Dolls & Scrapbooks: When paper or catalogs were available, kids made paper dolls, decorated scrapbooks, or folded origami animals.
Musical Instruments: Simple flutes, harmonicas, or a homemade washboard let children entertain themselves—and sometimes their exhausted parents!
Store-Bought Treasures
Store-bought toys were rare, precious things—brought home after a long trip to town or given as special gifts for Christmas or birthdays. Families might splurge on a china doll, a kite, a harmonica, or a set of jacks. These items were treasured and taken care of for years.
The Spirit of Play
Even in homes with few resources, Texas frontier kids found ways to play—outside, using what was at hand. Their games and toys weren’t just for entertainment; they taught resourcefulness, cooperation, and creativity. I like to think of those cornhusk dolls or whittled animals as more than toys—they were the seeds of stories and traditions passed down through generations.
As you enjoy the flurry of holiday shopping and the abundance of choices in catalogs and online stores, remember the simple joy of play with what you have. Sometimes, the best toys are the ones you create together.
Happy holidays to you and your family!
Curl up with the best of both worlds: modern-day romantic twists on your
favorite holiday classics, now available in cozy audiobooks!
Avoiding My Merry
Birthday
by Sonja Gunter
Genre: Contemporary Holiday Romance, Magical Realism
What would life be like to share your birthday with millions
of people?
Gloria White was born on December 24th—Christmas Eve—and is celebrating her
35th birthday when things go terribly wrong. Single and with no love interest
in sight, she leaves work only to find her car won’t start. The arrival of the
tow truck brings Nick Klaaws, who she has known since grade school, as the
driver.
Shocked at seeing him, she loses her balance, falls and hits her head. This
brings on a visit from a ghost resembling her boss, Mr. SC Rouge. They travel
back in time, where he shows her that her soulmate has been in front of her the
whole time and takes her to two possible futures.
Once back in real time, will fate allow Gloria to make the right choices for
love?
**Now available as an audiobook!**
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Who’s Been Naughty or
Nice
by Sonja Gunter
Genre: Contemporary Holiday Romance, Magical Realism
Northern Polar Printing Company’s President, Zane Ashcroft,
is in love with the Vice President, Annie McGrath. From their first encounter,
both knew they were destined to be together. At the annual Christmas party,
Zane, who dresses up as Santa, intends to propose to Annie after dinner. A
recent argument concerning Nick, the janitor, and a shocking development
thwarts his intentions.
Will Annie get that long awaited chance at love and happiness and risk being on
Santa’s naughty and nice list?
**Now available as an audiobook!**
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“There’s no need for you to come inside. We need a break from each other—time to think about our relationship.”
He heard her choke over the last words. She still didn’t look at him.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and left the car. He watched her walk to the front door where she paused. He held his breath as he waited for her to turn, but she didn’t. She opened the door and went inside, closing it behind her.
Zane hit the steering wheel. Granting her request was the hardest thing he’d done in a very long time. Light snow began to fall as he drove across town to his home. Several ideas came to him on how to resolve their argument.
Flowers? No, too predictable. Box of Norman Loves Chocolate? No, too cheesy.
More things came to mind, but as the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas” played on the radio, it triggered a plan. He’d use cards as the twelve days before his proposal. The numbers would work if he started tomorrow. He’d have to swing by Walgreens before work.
His two-story brick house loomed in front of him. It was not his home any longer. He’d been spending so much time at Annie’s and making her home theirs. Opening the door, cold greeted him. He cranked up the thermostat and went into the kitchen, starting the Krups’ coffee machine. It spitted and hissed. He reached for a coffee cup as the doorbell rang.
“Coming!”
Spilling the coffee he’d just poured, he hurried to the front door, unsure who it could be.
“Mr. North?” Zane eyeballed a red limo parked in the street. It stood out like a beckon against the grayness.
“Zane, I hope I’m not disrupting anything.”
“No, no. Come on in.” He held open the door. “Sorry about the chillness, I turned up the heat.”
“A little cold isn’t going to hurt me.”
“I don’t have much in the house to offer you. I haven’t been grocery shopping in days. I just made coffee, would you like a cup?”
“That works for me.”
Zane led him into the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time Mr. North had shown up at his doorstep, but tonight of all times was odd. He poured another cup of coffee and wiped up the earlier spillage from the counter top.
“I know it’s late, but I flew here right after concluding business with Mr. Moonracer. I felt not everyone was happy at my announcement.”
“You’re right. Annie… Ms. Ashcroft, didn’t like being kept out of the loop,” Zane confessed and sat in one the high back chairs.
“Oh, I see.”
Leaning on one elbow, Zane rested his head on his hand. “As a matter of fact, she’s fuming.”
Mr. North laughed and went to the refrigerator. He took out a carton of cream and poured some into his coffee.
Zane wondered when he’d gotten that. He hoped it was still good.
“She’ll understand soon. She’s been on my Nice List for a very long time. I’ve kept an eye on her.”
Zane straightened his shoulders. “A Nice List? I’m not a kid. This whole day has been peculiar from the start. Now it’s ending even weirder. I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for me, but now isn’t the time for your—”
“Zane, the time has come for you to know the truth.”
Mr. North pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose and laughed as he pulled his earlobe.
A delightful smell of cookies flooded the kitchen. Zane inhaled and stared wide eyed at him.
I was born and raised in the cold and beautiful Minnesota,
but I escaped to Illinois for seventeen years to raise my two boys, and now I
call Florida home. My husband Andy, who’s always been my hero, has put up with
my late night computer typing and endless stacks of papers with my stories on
them. We have one furry friend as family: Chip, a sixteen year old ragdoll cat.
Life has been full of ups and downs, but I’ve made it
through the hard times. I love to travel and go to Disney World to trade
pins. I’ve been a bowler for many years,
and you can catch me writing my next novel at the lanes.
I encourage you to check out my web site, www.sonjagunter.com for more info and
don’t be surprised if I let my Norwegian heritage come through in my stories.
Go Vikings! You betcha!
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and a giveaway!
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