Who hasn't heard of Jack the Ripper? What if you lived in Victorian London, the time of the infamous killer? What if you were one of the women he attacked, yet you managed to escape? And what if he knew he needed to find you and silence you before you identified him? My Miniature Rose from the English Tea Rose line, "See No Evil, My Pretty Lady", available from The Wild Rose Press on January 16, 2008 has Dorcy Edwards asking these same questions. Determined to capture the prey who'd eluded him, Jack pursues her to an isolated island. Through the orders of a Writ, she's secluded with five strangers in a cold, gloomy manor. She knows one member of the party must be the madman, but who? The man who claims to be a police inspector? Or the unhappily wed aristocrat? Maybe the mysterious man who wears an eye patch and black gloves? As Dorcy's drawn into Jack's cat-and-mouse game, she must find a way to evade him once again before she's added as the latest to his list of victims.
Read an excerpt:
Numb with shock, she stood unmoving as the air erupted with noise. Hooves clattering against the cobble-stoned street signaled an approaching rider. Through a parting in the shifting fog she stared toward the corner gas lamp. Beneath its arcing light trotted a snorting gelding, a shrunken visage of a man hunched over the animal’s neck.
“A body’s been found in Mitre Square.” Raising his prune wrinkled face, the old man shrilled out his warning. “Lock yer doors. Stay inside.”
He spurred the horse down the street and the pair disappeared into the mist. His high, thin cry merged with the fading echo of the steed’s departing hoof beats.
Dorcy inhaled a shuddering breath, the sudden odor of human body sweat alerting her to someone’s presence. A deep, unfamiliar voice said, “Madame, I have some business with you.”
Gasping, she whirled to flee. But a strong hand gripped her arm and flung her against the wall of the house. Knocked breathless, she opened her mouth to scream.
“Oh no, my pretty lady.” Vise-like fingers clamped on her throat, preventing sound. “I think you’ll be telling no one that you saw me.”
“A body’s been found in Mitre Square.” Raising his prune wrinkled face, the old man shrilled out his warning. “Lock yer doors. Stay inside.”
He spurred the horse down the street and the pair disappeared into the mist. His high, thin cry merged with the fading echo of the steed’s departing hoof beats.
Dorcy inhaled a shuddering breath, the sudden odor of human body sweat alerting her to someone’s presence. A deep, unfamiliar voice said, “Madame, I have some business with you.”
Gasping, she whirled to flee. But a strong hand gripped her arm and flung her against the wall of the house. Knocked breathless, she opened her mouth to scream.
“Oh no, my pretty lady.” Vise-like fingers clamped on her throat, preventing sound. “I think you’ll be telling no one that you saw me.”
2 comments:
What a great premise for a story! I can't wait to read it.
Thanks, Molly. I really hope you'll enjoy it.
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