Spotlight & Giveaway: The Valet Who Loved Me by Valerie Bowman

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Valerie Bowman to HJ!

Hi Valerie and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Valet Who Loved Me!

 
Hi, there! Excited to be here!
 

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

The Valet Who Loved Me is about a marquess/spy who goes undercover as a valet at a country house party to catch a traitor and ends up meeting a sassy lady’s maid who gives him hell at every turn. It’s book 3 in my Footmen’s Club series but can be read as a standalone.
 

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

My favorite has to be when Beau (the hero) admits to his mistake with this: “Take it from me. The moment you make the decision you’ll regret for eternity can also feel very much like being perfectly right.”

What inspired this book?

I’ve always wanted to write a series about noblemen who pretend to be servants. The Footmen’s Club is just that. Books 1 and 2 feature an earl who pretends to be a footman and a duke who pretends to be a groomsman. They’re out now.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

I get to know my characters by writing them and by thinking about them for a while before I begin writing them. Beau surprised me a little by when he was more serious and tender in his book than he had been in the other books. This one really shows his softer side.

What was your favorite scene to write?

I love all the scenes where Beau and Marianne trade barbs while they’re getting to know each other and still completely distrusting each other.

What was the most difficult scene to write?

The scenes on the ship. I had to do some ship research and I’m just completely out of my element. But sometimes your characters get on a boat. What’re ya gonna do? Ha!

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

This is an interesting question. A reader recently told me she thought my voice was a bit different in these books. It could be because of the fact that I wrote all three during the pandemic for the most part, but the plots aren’t a departure. I love a Regency romp!

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

Fun, fun, fun. I recently read a review of book 1 (The Footman and I) that said, “What a fun story!” I want anyone reading any of my books to have a good time and close the book with a smile at the end.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

Next up, I’ll be publishing something new (for me): a contemporary romantic comedy with a Regency theme. The title is Hiring Mr. Darcy and I hope to publish it in the fall. After that, I’ll be writing at least two more books in the Footmen’s Club series.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: I’ve giving away an e-copy of The Valet Who Loved Me to one lucky winner!

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: All three of the books in The Footmen’s Club series are tales of hidden identities. What are some of your other favorite hidden identity historical romances? (I want to read them!)

 
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Excerpt from The Valet Who Loved Me:

The Set Up: Marianne (the heroine) thinks Beau (the hero) is a valet named Nicholas Baxter. She doesn’t trust him and he doesn’t trust her.

The next day, Marianne made her way down the staircase into the servants’ hall with tentative steps. She didn’t like it down here for one reason—Mr. Baxter tended to be here. In fact, the man spent most of his day down here when he wasn’t tending to Lord Copperpot. She might have a pretend truce with him, but Marianne had vowed to spend as little time as possible around Nicholas Baxter. He was too good-looking by half, and she still suspected he was up to something.
She’d been forced to come down to the servants’ hall this afternoon, however. Lady Wilhelmina had torn the hem of one of her gowns last night at dinner and Marianne needed to mend it. At present, Lady Wilhelmina and Lady Copperpot were taking naps in their respective bedchambers, so Marianne had decided it was time to go down to the servants’ hall to see if Mrs. Cotswold, the housekeeper, had any silver thread.
The hall was quiet and mostly empty this time of day. Marianne marched past the open servants’ dining room on her way to Mrs. Cotswold’s small office. There were a few odd workers in the dining room sitting on the benches behind the long table, but Mr. Baxter was not one of them, thank heavens. Marianne breathed a sigh of relief before knocking on Mrs. Cotswold’s door.
A quick conversation with the efficient, matronly housekeeper ensued, and a few minutes later, Marianne found herself walking down the corridor to look in the storage room at the end of the passageway for the spool of thread Mrs. Cotswold had promised.
The door to the storage room was slightly ajar. She pushed it opened only to see Mr. Baxter, of all people, sitting atop a keg in the corner. His booted feet were dangling along the side of the keg. His buckskin breeches were indecently tight, and his white lawn shirt was open at the throat, showing a sinful glimpse of his muscled chest. No cravat. No coat. No hat. His blond hair was ruffled as if he’d recently run a hand through it, and he was staring at his lap, in which he appeared to be writing a letter. A small inkpot sat on a crate next to him and he held a quill in his left hand.
“Ye can write?” The words flew from her lips before she had a chance to choose them.
He looked up and a wry smile immediately spread across his handsome lips. She gulped, wishing very much that she hadn’t said a word. Instead, she wished she’d backed up quietly and left before he’d looked up.
“I can,” he replied in a tone that was a mixture of amused and sarcastic. “Can you?”
He’d added that just to be contrary. She knew it.
“I can,” she replied, her back stiffening.
“Excellent. That makes two of us.” He dropped his gaze back to the letter.
What was he writing? She couldn’t help but wonder. No doubt one of many love letters to women who believed they were the only one. The way this man looked, he probably had a lady in every town. She shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking such things about Mr. Baxter. She shouldn’t be thinking any things about Mr. Baxter. She’d come here to fetch thread, and that’s all she needed.
She glanced around the small room. There were scores of supplies of every type. Bags of flour and sugar, kegs of ale, bottles of wine, tins of beans, and all sorts of dried herbs in small pots. But she didn’t see any thread.
“Looking for something?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “I came ta get some thread fer milady’s gown. Mrs. Cotswold told me there be thread in here.”
Mr. Baxter lifted his head again and glanced around. “I’m happy to help you look for it.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She gave him a tight smile. She didn’t need Nicholas Baxter doing her a favor. He seemed like the kind of man who would expect one in return.
Nonetheless, he set down his letter, jumped from the keg, and began opening cupboard drawers and doors. So did Marianne. As they continued to search in silence, she could feel the unspoken competition between them. He went faster and faster and so did she. She’d rather be struck with the plague than allow him to find the thread first.
As she worked, she made her way around to the far side of the room where his letter sat atop the keg. As she opened a nearby drawer to look for the thread, she couldn’t help but glance at the letter. Confound it. The man had laid it down face first. Would it be far too obvious if she flipped it over?
“Found it!” he called out, startling her from her thoughts.
She whirled around. “Where?” Her voice was much harsher and more accusatory than she’d meant it to be. She closed the drawer she’d been looking in and glanced back to see him pointing to a cupboard door that was quite a bit higher than she could have reached.
“Up here,” he replied, a smug smile on his face.
She waited a few moments for him to hand it to her, and when he didn’t seem inclined to do any such thing, she finally extended her hand and said, “Well?” while tapping her foot on the ground.
“Well, what?” His smile was downright merry.
“Well, aren’t ye goin’ ta hand it ta me?”
“Oh, would you like me to, Miss Notley?” His smile went tight.
She could feel the glower on her face. “Yes, Mr. Baxter, I would.”
“There is a word, Miss Notley, that people often use in such situations, a word that is said to have great power.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. She wanted to slap his ridiculously handsome face. “And that word is?”
“Please, Miss Notley. The word is please.”
The man enjoyed torturing her. She could see it in his ice-blue eyes. She refused to make it any more enjoyable for him. She needed to get this over with and be on her way. Him staring at her that way unnerved her. She refused to look at him. Instead, she picked a point on the wall beside his head to focus her gaze. “Will you please hand me the thread, Mr. Baxter?” she asked in her most sickeningly sweet voice, while batting her eyelashes in a ridiculous fashion.
He scooped the thread from the shelf and handed it to her gently.
“Thank ye,” she replied, performing an exaggerated curtsy.
“My pleasure.” His smile was beatific now.
“I doubt it.” She swiveled toward the door, intent upon leaving immediately.
“May I ask you something, Miss Notley?”
He was still enjoying himself. Trying to rattle her more. She stopped and sighed. “I suppose so, Mr. Baxter.”
“What sort of a child were you?”
Marianne couldn’t help the strange sound that flew from her throat. It was a mixture of a laugh, a snort, and some sort of an exclamation. The man had surprised her. He might have asked her a score of things, but she never would have guessed he’d ask that. She turned to face him once again.
“You know, your laugh is beautiful,” he replied quietly. “But I’m curious, what was funny about my question?”
She immediately squelched her smile. Her laugh was beautiful? That noise she’d emitted? Hardly. And he’d said it just like a charmer. A man who used women and tossed them aside like so many used handkerchiefs. His words might fool some of the young maids, but he wasn’t about to fool her. “Why in heaven’s name would ye want ta know about me childhood?”
“I’m not asking you to recount the entire thing,” he replied with a grin. “I was merely wondering if you were the type of child who told on others when they broke the rules.”
“Ah, is that wot ye think o’ me?” She turned the small spool of thread over and over in her hands. This conversation was making her nervous. She needed to get back upstairs and mend Wilhelmina’s gown.
Mr. Baxter came to stand near her. He leaned one shoulder against the wall near the door. “You do seem to be a mistrustful sort.”
“Wot, me?” she said, squelching her smile.
“Yes, you,” he replied with a nod.
She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow. “Have ye given me anythin’ ta be trustin’ ye fer?”
He scratched his chin and cocked his head to the side. “I suppose not.”
“Well, then, there ye are.” She gathered her skirts in one hand and made to step around him through the still-open door.
“In such a hurry?” He was so close his words brushed her ear.
She froze, still looking straight ahead. “I have work ta do.”
“Do you never take a moment to enjoy yourself?” The words were like silk. The siren song of a skilled seducer?
She turned her head ever so slightly to the side to look at him. It was a mistake. He was far too close and far too handsome. She forced herself to speak slowly so her voice would remain steady and sure. “Is that wot this is? Enjoyable?”
“It could be, if you’d like.”
A rush of heat spread through Marianne’s limbs. Oh, he was good. A bit too good. “The truth is, I’m wonderin’ why ye’re so interested in findin’ out about me, Mr. Baxter.”
He bit his lip. Dear lord, the man had to know how good he looked when he bit his lip. “Perhaps because you’re a mystery, and I enjoy solving mysteries.”
She met his gaze with her own steady one. “I’m no more a mystery than ye are.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded slightly. “Before you go, may I ask you one more question, Miss Notley?”
“Very well.”
“Why did your accent change when you asked me to hand you the thread?”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

He’s on a top-secret assignment.

All of London knows Beau Bellham as the Marquess of Bellingham, but only a trusted few know he also works for the Home Office. His specialty? Scouting out traitors to the Crown. So, when one of his friends pretends to be a footman at a house party in order to find a wife, Beau decides posing as a valet at the same gathering will be the perfect cover for him to spy on the men he suspects of treason. What Beau doesn’t count on, however, is butting heads with a far-too-certain-of-herself maid who gives him hell at every turn.

She’s about to blow his cover.

Miss Marianne Notley is a lady’s maid with more secrets than hairpins. When she meets her employer’s new valet, she distrusts him immediately. Never mind his dashing good looks and irrepressible charm, he’s a bit too sure of himself and asks a few too many questions for her liking. She’s on a mission to reveal the mysterious valet’s true identity, and she’s not above wielding her own considerable charms to do it. But before long, all the pretending Marianne and Beau are doing feels alarmingly real—and a lot like falling in love. When they finally discover the truth about each other, will it spark a face-off for the ages or a love that lasts for all time?

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Meet the Author:

Valerie Bowman’s debut novel was published in 2012. Since then, her books have received starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly, Booklist, and Kirkus. She’s been an RT Reviewers’ Choice nominee for Best First Historical Romance and Best Historical Romance Love and Laughter. Two of her books have been nominated for the Kirkus Prize for fiction.

Valerie grew up in Illinois with six sisters (she’s number seven) and a huge supply of historical romance novels. After a cold and snowy stint earning a degree in English Language and Literature with a minor in history at Smith College, she moved to Florida the first chance she got. Valerie now lives in Jacksonville with her family including her mini-schnauzers, Huckleberry and Violet. When she’s not writing, she keeps busy reading, traveling, or vacillating between watching crazy reality TV and PBS.

Find her on the web at www.ValerieBowmanBooks.com
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