Lindsey A. Teske
Your Story + My Experience
A Smashing Success
Do you write romance?
Huzzah! You are in a bestselling category.
Romance novels sell more titles than any type of book, and historical romance is the second the largest subgenre (after contemporary).
Readers are spoiled for choice. Luckily, I can make you stand out with compelling characters and historically accurate details. I will use my knowledge of literature, theater, psychology and history to make your story shine.
Let someone who has literally worn petticoats help you with the little details and big plot twists that make your work feel authentic and alive.
I have been doing living history reenactments for over a decade. My research connections give me access to amazing primary sources from all eras. An avid reader, I have devoured over 1,000 historical romance novels.
I want you read yours next.
It is always embarrassing when your intended bride throws you over. It is even worse to find out through the gossip mill. If he had been seated at a different table in the Grand Hotel dining room that night, Gerald might not have heard for days.
“Are you going to the Rowan ball?”
His ears perked up at the mention of his lady love’s family name. His ship had arrived weeks early and no one knew he was in London yet. He was hungry for plain English fare and news of home. It had been nearly 4 years since he had a decent pudding.
The lady with the ostrich-plumed hat nodded vigorously. “I’m dying to meet the Mr. Wyatt that scooped up the Rowan chit. People can’t decide if he is an uncouth merchant or a genteel investor. There are even rumors that there is family pressure against the match. It should be entertaining either way.”
Gerald swore softly and grabbed his hat. Annalise knew damn well she was promised to him. So what was she doing getting engaged to another chap?
He strode out into the weak English sunshine. It was hard to believe this light came from the same sun that gilded India with such rich heat. The streets were full of a tide of people and Gerald could see that the carriages went no faster than the pedestrians. He would get to the Rowan townhouse quicker riding his anger than a horse.