Spotlight & Giveaway: Earl on the Run by Jane Ashford

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Jane Ashford to HJ!

Hi Jane and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Earl on the Run!

 
Thanks for inviting me!
 

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

Fuming at her tyrannical grandfather’s demand that she marry a title, Harriet Finch plunges into a reckless, rebellious flirtation with a charming rogue. Imagine her chagrin when she discovers that her provocative new love is actually an earl! She’s furious, even though it’s the last thing he wants to be.
 

Please share your favorite line(s) or quote from this book:

He was winning her over, and a true pleasure it was. “I don’t think so. The stables are empty with the gig gone. And the shutters are closed on the upper floors.” In fact, Ferrington Hall looked as if it hadn’t had any careful attention in years. “My name’s Jack,” he added.
She tossed her head.
“It would be polite for you to give me your name now.”
“No, it would not. This is not a proper introduction.”
Certainly a society girl, Jack concluded. And yet he couldn’t resist. “Very well, I shall call you Miss Snoot.” He turned toward the house. “Are you coming along with me, Miss Snoot?”
“Do not call me that!” But she followed him.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

The heroine hates horses. The hero grew up in Boston, Massachusetts.

What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

Beyond strong physical attraction, the heroine is attracted by the free, unconventional life the hero seems to offer. He is drawn by her intelligence and fiery spirit.

Did any scene have you blushing, crying or laughing while writing it? And Why?

I was touched by a scene with the heroine’s mother.

“Tunbridge Wells?” Harriet’s mother said.
To Harriet’s horror, Mama’s eyes filled with tears. “You are most welcome at Ferrington Hall, of course. Indeed, we want you there. Absolutely. Both of us. Ferrington only thought…”
“But how could I return?” her mother interrupted. “I’ve been so foolish about our money.” Her hands clasped convulsively.
“He would like to settle an income on you. A permanent one that could never be withdrawn.”
“Oh Harriet!” The tears spilled over. “So generous.”
“So that is what you would like?” Harriet still wasn’t certain.
“More than anything. Oh Harriet, can it really be true?”
“Quite true.”
Her mother’s breath caught on a sob. “I never dared dream… I would visit you, of course. It is not too far away. But to have my own… You say our old house can be taken?”
“Ferrington has bought it,” Harriet replied.
“Bought!” Her mouth fell open. “Bought?”
“Yes, Mama. For you.”
She stared, astounded, wordless.
“What has happened?” asked Charlotte, coming over to join them. Sarah trailed along behind.
“Harriet is marrying the most wonderful man in the world,” said her mother.
“Really?” Charlotte rested her satirical dark eyes on Harriet.
“I think perhaps I am,” she agreed.

Readers should read this book….

For a rollicking vacation from the daily grind.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have in the works?

I just finished volume 4 in The Duke’s Estates series. It is called A Most Intriguing Lady and tells Charlotte Deeping’s romantic story. I’m beginning on number 5 now.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway:  A print copy of Earl on the Run by Jane Ashford

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Excerpt from Earl on the Run:

The Terefords turned to find Harriet’s mount hurtling toward them as if the hounds of hell were at its back. Harriet flailed in the saddle, clearly on the verge of falling off. Ferrington was staring after her, aghast.
Harriet pounded past them, clods of earth flying. In the next instant, Ferrington kicked his mount into action and raced after her.
“What the deuce,” said James as the other man galloped by. “I thought you said Miss Finch wouldn’t wish to ride hard.”
“She didn’t look as if she wished to be galloping,” replied Cecelia. The other two riders disappeared around a curve ahead. Cecelia put her heels to her horse and went after them. James followed suit.
Bent over his horse’s neck, pounding along the lane terrified for Miss Finch’s safety, Jack tried to work out what the hell had just happened. He’d gone over to her recalcitrant mount. He’d advised Miss Finch to yank the reins with some authority, which had earned him a scorching look. He’d then administered a slap on the rump to admonish and encourage the beast. It had been a perfectly normal slap – really no more than a tap – a mere touch that any rational horse would have understood as familiar marching orders. But this stupid animal had taken offense, jumped off her hocks like a rabbit, and shot off down the lane as if a race had been declared.
Jack had lost a moment to sheer disbelief. This behavior made no sense. But then he’d noted Miss Finch’s imbalance in the saddle. She wasn’t a good enough rider to control this kind of bolting. Heart in his mouth, he went after her. He didn’t even notice the Terefords as he galloped past.
“Pull her back,” he shouted when he drew nearer. He didn’t think Miss Finch heard. She looked frightened and was fully occupied with clinging on.
They came to a low place in the high hedges that lined the lane, Miss Finch jerked at one of her reins for no reason that Jack could see. Her horse tossed its head, half reared, twisted, and jumped over the line of bushes. The pair disappeared in a way that made Jack fear the ground was much lower on the other side. Picturing Miss Finch and her mount lying in a broken heap in the ditch, he urged his mount a bit further along, then put him at the hedge. The Traveler horse accepted the challenge and jumped.
The tips of branches brushed the horse’s hooves and stomach. But they cleared the obstacle and landed in a meadow that slanted swiftly downward toward a line of trees that probably ran along a stream. Jack looked left and right. There was no sign of Miss Finch in the flower-strewn meadow grass. He headed for the trees.
They concealed a small placid river. And Miss Finch sat right in the middle of it, a few yards downstream. Her horse had stopped a little further along, cropping grass on the bank as if it had never misbehaved in the whole of its equine life.
Miss Finch looked dazed. The water came up to her shoulders. As Jack moved closer, she flailed at it and managed to stand, but the heavy skirts of her riding habit dragged her down. The current caught the mass of soaked fabric, threatened to topple her off her feet, and pulled her along. She lurched and stumbled, hands grasping but finding no hold in the water.
Jack jumped from the saddle and lunged into the water, half diving to reach her. He caught her around the waist and steadied her.
“I am not crying!” she declared.
“It’s just river water splashed on your face,” he replied.
“I…” Her breath caught on a sob. “Yes.”
Holding her tight against his side, Jack turned toward the shore and found he couldn’t move. His riding boots had sunk into a layer of sucking mud. He heaved at his right foot, finally got it free, took a step, and sank in again. The stuff was pernicious. He pulled up his left foot, managed another step. It took much of his strength. At the next try, he nearly lost a boot to the muck and almost dumped both of them into the increasingly murky water.
Between the resistance of the mud and the tugging weight of her skirts, the trek to the bank was strenuous. But at last Jack stepped up onto the mossy bank, pulling Miss Finch along with him. “Are you hurt?” He ran his hands over her arms and ribs. Nothing seemed broken. She was standing without effort.
Miss Finch pushed at his chest. “You hit my horse!”
“I just tapped her rump, the sort of thing anyone does to urge a mount along.”
“Urge? She lost what little mind she possesses. It was like being carried off by a whirlwind.”
This seemed an exaggeration, but Jack made allowances. “There’s something off about that animal.” He eyed the still browsing mount.
“Everything at my grandfather’s house hates me,” Miss Finch declared, clenching folds of his coat in sudden fists.
She was all right. She hadn’t broken a leg or suffered a knock on the head. Her spirits were clearly not broken. “Thank God,” said Jack.
“What?” The word crackled with indignation.
“That you are all right. Not that your grandfather’s… I was frightened out of my wits.”
“You were?”
“Of course I was. If you’d been hurt.” He ran his hands up her arms again to reassure himself that she had not.
Miss Finch gazed up at him. She was breathing hard from the trek through the mud. Water dripped from their sodden clothing. Her green eyes were wide and still a bit wild. Jack found himself getting lost in them, and their surroundings seemed to drop away until nothing but the two of them existed. He bent his head. She raised her chin. Their lips met in a kiss of unutterable sweetness.
Harriet was ambushed by a sense of rightness. This felt like…home – his arms around her, his mouth tempting hers. Despite her sodden clothes, heat shot through her. Her hands slid up to his shoulders and gripped. Her body melted into his. She was aware of nothing but her dear, dizzying rogue.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

A reluctant earl flees from his new role
A wild lady yearns to escape her family’s strict rules
They meet, and find refuge in each other

The missing Earl of Ferrington doesn’t want to be found…

At the end of the London season, Harriet Finch reluctantly returns to her wealthy grandfather’s country house. His rigid opinions for how she should live and whom she should marry sparks Harriet’s rebelliousness. Yearning to reclaim her freedom, Harriet goes for a long walk and a handsome rogue from the nearby Travelers camp catches her eye.

Little does she know, the rugged traveler she’s flirting with is Jonathan “Jack” Frederick Merrill, the missing Earl of Ferrington in disguise. Will Jack tell Harriet the truth about who he is for the sake their blossoming relationship? Or will he keep his distance altogether? Time is running out, and the earl can’t hide forever…
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Meet the Author:

Jane Ashford discovered Georgette Heyer in junior high school and was captivated by the glittering world and witty language of Regency England. That delight was part of what led her to study English literature and travel widely. Her books have been published all over Europe as well as in the United States. Jane was nominated for a Career Achievement Award by RT Book Reviews. Born in Ohio, she is now somewhat nomadic. Find her on the web at janeashford.com and on Facebook at facebook.com/JaneAshfordWriter, where you can sign up for her monthly newsletter.
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