Part of Series
As a gardener, Merrilyn Parkham-Smythe, was happy to be called a wallflower. Wallflowers were tenacious, long blooming, colourful and reliable plants, easy to care for as long as they had a fair share of sun. Like them, Merrilyn had no objection to providing providing background to the showier and more troublesome ladies of Society. She did object to being slighted and bullied by those highly praised blooms and their male counterparts. The gentleman next door, for example. He had killed an entire herbacious border, pruned all the flowers off her magnolia tree, refused to see her when she called, and failed to reply to her letters of complaint. He richly deserved what he had coming. Didn't he? Justin Falconbridge hadn't meant to offend the lady next door. He supposed he should have known that treating his carriage way with lime and sulfur to kill the weeds might affect the plants next door, but they would grow again, wouldn't they? And wasn't he entitled to cut off the flowers that dropped onto said carriage way and made it slipperly underfoot? It was a pity she only spoke to him to abuse him, because he could think of a better use for those perfectly shaped lips than to hurl abuse at him. Since he couldn't be in her presence without thoughts that were inappropriate in the presence of an innocent lady, he had to ignore her. Sooner or later, she would give up and leave him alone. Which is what he wanted. Wasn't it? This book is part of the Revenge of the Wallflowers multi-author series
Author
Have you ever wanted something so much you were afraid to even try? That was me ten years ago. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a novelist. I even started dozens of stories, over the years. But life kept getting in the way. A seriously ill child who required years of therapy; a rising mortgage that led to a full-time job; six children, my own chronic illness… the writing took a back seat. As the years passed, the fear grew. If I didn't put my stories out there in the market, I wouldn't risk making a fool of myself. I could keep the dream alive if I never put it to the test. Then my mother died. That great lady had waited her whole life to read a novel of mine, and now it would never happen. So I faced my fear and changed it—told everyone I knew I was writing a novel. Now I'd make a fool of myself for certain if I didn't finish. My first book came out to excellent reviews in December 2014, and the rest is history. Many books, lots of positive reviews, and a few awards later, I feel foolish for not starting earlier. I write historical fiction with a large helping of romance, a splash of Regency, and a twist of suspense. I then try to figure out how to slot the story into a genre category. I'm mad keen on history, enjoy what happens to people in the crucible of a passionate relationship, and love to use a good mystery and some real danger as mechanisms to torture my characters. Dip your toe into my world with one of my lunch-time reads collections or a novella, or dive into a novel. And let me know what you think.
