Here is this weekend snippet from the start of a historical novel set in Victorian London called THE VEILED HEART.
This is in the beginning of the book, Chapter 1,  pages 9 & 10, You can listen to / read pages 1 & 2 here  & pages 3 & 4 here , pages 5 & 6 here, and pages 7& 8 here

THE VEILED HEART will be available from 14th July.


Audio File ( seems to work best with google chrome) 



London 1898

He could see she didn’t need the money, and when he smiled with rakish charm her capacity for logical thought lost its hold and started to plummet into a dark abyss, far out of reach when she needed it the most.

That ripple in her chest went wild.

No coherent response presented itself. The pulse of her heart thudded in her joints. In her wrists, her elbows, the soft flesh behind her knees. Her skin was awake, alight with sensitivity as her clothes lay on it. Her body assailed her with sensations and riotous thoughts that made the legendary fireworks at Vauxhall passé.

That wasn’t the worst though. No, the worst was that he was making all the shadowy corners inside her wake up. As if he had taken a torch of gleaming light and was walking the narrow avenues of long forgotten emotions, illuminating her hopes, her desires, and rousing them from a slumber best left undisturbed.

It was remarkable.


He was a stranger, a man indifferent to her. Yet he was setting her aflame with his proximity and close regard.

There really was nothing for it except to continue her inspection and hope she had passed the worst.

His nose was straight and solid, and with the darkest of eyebrows. They arched in question over her sure downfall.

Her pulse beat faster as her breath became shallow.

Miriam closed her eyes and then reopened them. He was still there and so were those damn eyes.

She gazed in confirmation at the clearest blue. The color of the Greek ocean as it sparkled a liquid turquoise.

She thought of it as the color of her salvation. The color had circled her husband’s yacht, as he lay asleep below deck. Asleep, he’d been oblivious to the fact that she had taken off all her clothes, jumped into that color of promise, and floated as if her life had meant nothing; and at the time, it hadn’t.

“No,” she croaked defiantly while her defences crumbled.

His face lost its smile.

“Be reasonable, madam; one is all I need.” His hand reached out to the box still on the counter and the angel, God bless her, slapped it away.

“No.” Miriam’s voice was clearer now and projected assuredly even as her limbs trembled. One second after another gave her the time to collect her composure.

He looked at her.

Looked as if he could see right into her, as if he could see past the veil that guarded her from sight.

She looked right back.

Looked into those blue pools of light as if they held salvation, but they didn’t; nothing could hold that.



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