BLURB:

The death of her husband has thrown Lady Maria Kersey’s future into doubt—and her heart into the arms of a man she cannot have. But Christmas with the Widows’ Club will bring choices—and surprises–that may change all her holidays to come . . .

Maria just gave birth to her first child, a beautiful daughter—but the event is shrouded in sorrow.  A month earlier, Maria’s husband, Lord Kersey, was killed in a duel under compromising circumstances. Worse, Maria’s failure to provide a male heir has stripped her of any hope of an inheritance. Scorned by the ton, one of her few allies is her late husband’s steward, Hugh Granger. Hugh is everything her husband was not—warm, charming—and penniless. . . .

Hugh has fallen desperately in love with Maria, but has little to offer but comfort. As their attraction becomes impossible to resist, Maria flees to London to spend Christmas with her dearest friends, a group of widows who lost their own husbands in the Battle of Waterloo. Little does she know the holidays will reveal a twist of fate she never expected—proving that the greatest Christmas gift is the magic of true love . . .

I’m starting the snippets about a third of he way through the novel. Maria has been widowed a second time and is virtually penniless and living off the kindness of her dead husband’s distant relations. Maria is trying to make a good impression on the family, especially on their elder son–who will eventually inherit her late husband’s title. But when the family invites her to a greenery gathering party, things get a little out of hand… Enjoy!

EXCERPT:

Abruptly, Lord Wetherby pulled her to him and they started off into the woods to the right of the brake, dodging around trees left and right, forcing her to run until her side ached.

Enough. She gave a mighty tug and her hand slipped free of his. Winded, she stood panting as Lord Wetherby continued on a few feet until he realized he no longer held her hand.

“My . . . lord!” Goodness, but she was out of breath. “I believe we have gone far enough. If we find sufficient quantities of the greenery we seek, we will be unable to carry it all back to the brake.”

“We can pile it up here and let the footmen carry it back for us.” He had walked back to her and now stood close, so close that his bergamot scent warred with the fresh smell of the firs all around them.

And a little more for good measure…

“Then we had best get to it, shall we?” With that Maria stalked off to the right, heading for a large stand of holly bushes that should be easy to collect, praying he would not follow her. The clean scent of the holly brushed the lingering traces of the spicy bergamot away, and she began tearing off small twigs with the bright red berries, avoiding the sharp points of the distinctive leaves.

Mentally bewailing the fact that they had brought no basket to collect the greenery in, Maria lay the torn branches carefully in her arm, going methodically from bush to bush, trying not to strip an entire plant, but leave something of it intact to grow and seed for next year.

A basket and scissors certainly would have been very useful to this endeavor. Maria’s hands became scratched, even through the protection of her gloves. Perhaps she should have gone after the fir branches instead. Gathering up an armful of small pieces, she judged she had enough and turned toward the growing pile of branches on the ground. As she tossed them on the heap, one of the holly leaves caught her index finger, jabbing deep through the material of her glove and into the tender flesh of the pad.

“Ouch!” Maria dropped the branches she carried and peeled off her glove. A red indentation showed the location of the wound and she squeezed the finger to see if it still seeped. As she grasped the finger a bright bead of blood welled up on the pad. “Drat.”