The Light at Wyndcliff by Sarah E. Ladd
Set in 1820s Cornwall, this Regency romance evokes the captivating worlds and delicious dramas of Jane Austen, Daphne DuMaurier, and Winston Graham.
Raised on the sprawling and rugged Wyndcliff Estate near the dangerous coast of South Cornwall, Evelyn Bray lives with her grandfather, a once-wealthy man reduced to the post of steward. Evelyn is still grieving her father’s death and her mother’s abandonment when a passing ship is dashed against the rocks. The only survivors, a little girl and her injured mother, are rescued and brought to Wyndcliff Hall.
Liam Twethewey is just twenty-two when he inherits Wyndcliff Estate from his great uncle. His optimistic plans to open a china clay pit to employ the estate’s tenants meets unexpected resistance, and the rumors of smuggling and illegal activity challenge his new-found authority. Though wise beyond his years, young Liam quickly finds himself out of his depth in this land where long-held secrets and high-stakes agendas make no room for newcomers.
Brought together by troubling questions surrounding the shipwreck, Evelyn and Liam uncover even darker mysteries shrouding the estate. But as they untangle truths from deceptions, their loyalties separate them—and their budding love might not be strong enough to overcome the distance.
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | IndieBound
The depth of the characterization was fabulously written and I was completely immersed with the storyline. Liam just inherited Wyndcliff Hall and with a little bit of mystery, suspense and some romance into the mix which I really enjoyed. Liam working with Evelyn Bray to work out the mystery of a recent shipwreck and the drama was really wonderful.
Overall, this was a wonderfully written novel that I was fully immersed into the story, the characters, and I loved the setting and the timeframe this was written in. The beautiful writing and exceptionally researched historical fiction really brought this world to life with characters I absolutely loved reading about. I highly recommend this entire series for historical fiction fans.
About the Author
Sarah E. Ladd has always loved the Regency period — the clothes, the music, the literature and the art. A college trip to England and Scotland confirmed her interest in the time period and gave her idea of what life would’ve looked like in era. It wasn’t until 2010 that Ladd began writing seriously. Shortly after, Ladd released the first book in the Whispers on the Moors series. Book one of the series, The Heiress of Winterwood, was the recipient of the 2011 ACFW Genesis Award for historical romance. Ladd also has more than ten years of marketing experience. She holds degrees in public relations and marketing and lives in Indiana with her family and spunky Golden Retriever.
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | BookBub | Goodreads
Blog Tour Schedule
Tuesday, October 13Review at Hallie Reads
Feature at Momfluenster
Wednesday, October 14
Review at McCombs on Main
Review at Gwendalyn's Books
Review at Probably at the Library
Thursday, October 15
Review at Jessica Belmont
Friday, October 16
Review at Bitch Bookshelf
Review & Excerpt at Bookworlder
Review at View from the Birdhouse
Sunday, October 18
Review at Jorie Loves a Story
Review at WTF Are You Reading?
Monday, October 19
Review at Book Bustle
Tuesday, October 20
Review at Books and Zebras
Review at Robin Loves Reading
Review at Into the Hall of Books
Wednesday, October 21
Review at The Lit Bitch
Thursday, October 22
Review at Faery Tales Are Real
Review at Historical Fiction with Spirit
Friday, October 23
Review at Lu Reviews Books
Saturday, October 24
Review & Excerpt at Nursebookie
Monday, October 26
Review at The Caffeinated Bibliophile
Review at Chicks, Rogues, and Scandals
Tuesday, October 27
Review at Captivated Reading
Wednesday, October 28
Review at Heidi Reads
Thursday, October 29
Review at YA, it's Lit
Friday, October 30
Review at A Darn Good Read
Review at Read Review Rejoice
Giveaway
During the Blog Tour, we are giving away 5 copies of The Light at Wyndcliff! To enter, please use the Gleam form below.The giveaway is open to US residents only and ends on October 30th. You must be 18 or older to enter.
The Light at Wyndcliff
Excerpt
Chapter 14
Evelyn braced her feet in the sand, standing still and straight on
the shoreline, refusing to sway with the gusts as the wind tore at her gown and
her unbound hair. Determined to ignore the shiver of cold that began in her
chest and flowed to her limbs, she watched in breathless anticipation and fear
as the mayhem unfolded before her.
How familiar it was. How terribly, eerily, chillingly familiar. The
sight was much too familiar, especially as of late, and
each instance hit close to her heart.
Perhaps the men would rescue someone. Perhaps not.
She could not help but wonder if the situation had been the same all
those years ago when her father had lost his life assisting in a rescue. She’d
been too young to understand then, and no one ever spoke of it, especially her
grandfather, but with every shipwreck she saw, it seemed a little bit more of
him was taken from her.
A man ran past, nearly knocking her down. She stumbled backward into
Bertie and some of the other women gathered.
The excise men could not be aware of the shipwreck yet. Otherwise
uniformed men would make their presence known and there would be more order, or
at least more discretion, among the villagers racing to grab whatever they
could.
Aye, several men were attempting to rescue survivors presumably
still aboard, but as she looked farther down shore, dawn’s faint glow cast
light on men and women who were equally intent upon reaching the crates and
debris being pushed onto the shore and into the arms of those waiting to receive
them.
She turned her attention back to the men forming the lifeline. It
was not raining now, and a figure clad in white appeared in the distance.
Her pulse jumped, and she stepped toward the water so the waves
lapped at her skirts. She shielded her eyes against bits of sand caught in the
gale and watched as the bundle was passed slowly down the rope until the very
last man carried the small body over one shoulder to the shoreline. He dropped
to his knees and lowered the body to the ground.
Evelyn rushed forward and stooped next to the tiny body, fearing
what she might see. It was a child. A girl. And her breath came in great, airy
gulps. Black eyes stared up at her, wide and wild, from a ghostly white face.
Long streaks of black hair clung to her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. Her
blue lips shivered, but raspy breaths, gasping coughs, and darting glances
confirmed she was alive. The child struggled to sit up, but Evelyn put a gentle
hand on her shoulder.
Dr. Smith, the mining surgeon, pushed past Evelyn and knelt by
the girl. “Are you hurt, child? What is your name?”
The child did not respond but shivered violently. The bottom of her
white gown was torn, and it clung to her tiny body. She wore no boots, no
stockings.
One of the women lifted a light behind the surgeon so he could
assess the child’s condition. After several moments he sat back. “I think she’s
all right, just stunned most likely, but we must get her dry and warm. Take her
back to Wyndcliff. I’ll stay here. I think there are more coming. Can you carry
her, Miss Bray, or shall I call one of the men?”
Evelyn looked back to the men, lit only by lantern light and
torchlight and a faint sliver of moonlight through the rolling clouds. They
were engaged along the rope for another rescue and were needed here. She
nodded. “We’ll manage.”
She took the child’s shivering shoulders in her hands and looked at
her. “You must hold on to me tightly, just for a while, then you will be able
to rest, I promise.”
The child did not respond. Her teeth chattered, but she did as bid.
She wrapped her arms about Evelyn’s neck and her legs around her waist as much
as her trembling limbs would allow. Evelyn’s own wet skirts hindered her
walking, and already at the edge of the beach her muscles burned with the
effort.
Slowly but surely they made their way back up the crag where the
beach gave way to a copse of trees and then to moorland. Fortunately the child
clutched her as if her very life depended on it, as it very well may have,
easing some of the burden of the weight.
Evelyn climbed the rocks, her skirts catching on the crags and the
brush. Before her, the lights of Wyndcliff blazed, and she fixed her sights on
it, placing one foot in front of the other.
The kitchen light shone like a beacon, calling to her, urging her to
hurry. After what seemed an eternity, they burst through the door, breathless
and windblown, and Marnie whirled to face them. “Merciful heavens! What be
this?” She reached out and accepted the girl.
Evelyn’s arms and legs burned from the physical exertion. Her own
limbs trembled with the cold, and she knelt on the flagstone floor before the
fire. “We must get her warm.”
No comments:
Post a Comment