Welcome, Sarah! I love your beautiful cover and this story sounds compelling. First a little blurb about Sweet Bea…
In a family of remarkable people, ordinary Beatrice strives to prove herself worthy. When her family is threatened with losing everything, she rushes to London to save them. Unfortunately, she chooses as her savior the very man who will see her family brought low.
Garrett has sworn vengeance on Sir Arthur of Anglesea for destroying his life when he was a boy and forcing his mother into prostitution for them to survive. He has chosen as his instrument Sir Arthur’s youngest daughter, Beatrice.
Can Beatrice’s goodness teach Garrett that love, not vengeance, is the greatest reward of all?
Thanks, Sharon, for having me over today. You asked me to pick three moments from my book and let your readers know why I think they would make someone want to read my book.
So, here goes and I’m deliberately avoiding any spoiler moments here:
- The first moment is early on in the book when you realize that Garrett, the hero, is not a nice guy at all. In fact, many of my earlier beta readers got downright angry at him. But if you bear with me, I will redeem him. Garrett is human, with all our failings and weaknesses and I always love a story where the flawed hero has to scramble for his redemption.
- The second moment is Beatrice persuading Tom, her childhood friend, to help her save her family. Tom is trying to be the voice of reason and Beatrice is off on a flight of fantasy. They squabble like siblings and I think anyone with a ‘sensible’ sibling will be able to relate.
- Moment three is where Beatrice rescues a child thief, Newt, from the stocks. At this point in the book, Garrett is putty in her hands and Beatrice is a born crusader for the downtrodden.
I chose this last moment to give you a small taste of Sweet Bea.
The market was small but thriving. Loud calls, hawking everything from bullocks to hair ribbons filled the air. Young bucks, dressed in their best tunics, hair neatly slicked back, paraded about. Eyes flashing brighter than their bliauts, a giggling huddle of girls looked them over from the stone cross central to the green.
Garrett drifted from stall to stall, sharing a word or two here, testing the produce there, but all the while steadily working his way toward the tables outside the tavern. He tugged Beatrice out of the way of small band of children, shrieking with excitement, and chased by a pair of barking dogs. He and Beatrice appeared exactly as he wanted them to: two unremarkable travelers stopping for supplies. The beefy rich smell of meat pastries tempted Garrett into parting with some coins.
Of course, Beatrice in her chausses caused more than one passing comment. A rotund farmwife huffed indignantly from behind her baskets of greens. He should’ve thought to get her to put on a gown, but he’d been too intent on preventing Beatrice from descending on the village with her lavish smile and her noble accent. If her family was looking for her, and they damned well should be, he didn’t want to lay a trail for them.
As she followed meekly behind him, munching on her pie and confining her comments to him, he wasn’t displeased with the way things were going.
Beatrice had forgotten her haste, for the moment. Her expressions held him captive, shifting in constant response to what she saw and thought.
Moving amongst the press of people, Garrett allowed time to lag.
He stopped at a baker’s stall. Large, golden loaves spread across the table, their yeast smell making his mouth water.
As long as no abused whore, starving orphan, or whipped dog stumbled across their path, they should get along without making too much of a ripple.
He should’ve known better than to toss temptation to fate. His nape pricked and he turned. His shadow was no longer where he’d left it. He caught sight of Beatrice stomping across the green. Her destination? Where else, but to the ragged creature confined to the village stocks. Jesu have mercy. He dropped the bread he was buying and dashed after her.
Who am I?
Born British and raised in South Africa, Sarah Hegger suffers from an incurable case of wanderlust. Her match? A hot Canadian engineer, whose marriage proposal she accepted six short weeks after they first met. Together they’ve made homes in seven different cities across three different continents (and back again once or twice). If only it made her multilingual, but the best she can manage is idiosyncratic English, fluent Afrikaans, conversant Russian, pigeon Portuguese, even worse Zulu and enough French to get herself into trouble.
Mimicking her globe trotting adventures, Sarah’s career path began as a gainfully employed actress, drifted into public relations, settled a moment in advertising, and eventually took root in the fertile soil of her first love, writing. She also moonlights as a wife and mother.
She currently lives in Draper, Utah, with her teenage daughters, two Golden Retrievers and aforementioned husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books.
She loves to hear from readers and you can find her at any of the places below.