Beverley Eikli and THE MAID OF MILAN with giveaway

Redemption and a woman’s lack of power – or how she wields the power she does have – are popular themes of mine in the historicals I write.

Henry Mayhew’s collection of interviews in 1862 in his ‘London’s Underworld’ makes fascinating reading and the first-hand accounts of ‘ruined women’have been inspirational in many of my stories.

While my second Regency romance, The Maid of Milan, showcases both the glitter and grime of the period, my heroine is a viscountess though she doesn’t have far to fall before she lands in the gutter for her reputation is in the hands of someone very unscrupulous. Yes, she has a … ‘past’. And no woman of virtue in those days could afford to have one of those.

The Maid of Milan is about a once-dazzling debutante who believed she wielded enormous power as the men flocked to ask her to dance. But then she made a terrible error of judgment. One that continues to haunt her four years after she’s happily married the brave and honourable MP who has nursed her through her darkest hours.

Unfortunately it’s Adelaide’s mother who now wields the power. She’s the one who’s protected her daughter from the all-out scandal that would have destroyed her, but she’s done it at enormous cost. Adelaide will only find her Happy Ever After if she can navigate the treacherous currents her mother has whipped up to subdue her, and take a huge chance that the ultimate decision she makes is the right one.

I’d also love to offer a digital give-away of my Regency mystery romance, Lady Farquhar’s Butterfly, to someone who comments on what they like about the lovely cover of The Maid of Milan.

In the meantime, here’s the blurb and a short extract:


After five years of marriage, Adelaide has fallen in love with the handsome, honourable husband who nurtured her through her darkest hours.

Now Adelaide’s former lover, the passionate poet from whose arms she was torn by her family during their illicit liaison in Milan four years previously has returned, a celebrity due to the success of his book The Maid of Milan.

High society is as desperate to discover the identity of his ‘muse’ as Adelaide is to protect her newfound love and her husband’s political career.


The following scene takes place when Adelaide has discovered that not only is she in love with the husband she reluctantly consented to wed, but that she wants him to be in no doubt about her desire to take intimacy to a higher level. Adelaide’s mother has perpetuated a lie to hide her daughter’s sinful past, telling Tristan that Adelaide is an invalid who must be kept calm at all costs if she is not to succumb to hysteria.


Tossing aside the bed covers, Adelaide shifted to make room

for him, snuggling against his chest when he yielded

slightly, nevertheless terrified of his reaction. She was

blatantly seducing – no, trying to seduce – her husband for

the first time in her life and she had no idea whether he’d be

horrified or delighted. She just knew she had to convey to

him her receptiveness for taking intimacy to a higher level.

So far so good. He was breathing more rapidly, she

noticed, as he carefully removed his boots. She willed him

to hurry. She was on fire. She closed her eyes in anticipation,

her mind whirling with all the possibilities of what she

might say, but the words with which she’d intended to

unburden her heart were lost in the passion of his kiss.

Scorching. It shocked her, as did the speed with which he

moved now as he caged her body with his, his hands roaming

over her as he trailed hot kisses along her jawline, down her

neck, across her décolletage. Adelaide arched with impatience,

resisting the urge to be the one to unbutton his trousers.

‘God, Addy, I love you,’ he muttered as he gripped the

hem of her shift to raise it, nuzzling her neck. ‘I’ve never

loved any woman as I love you. Are you sure you want—?’

Her reassurance that she’d never wanted anything so

much was truncated by a sharp rap on the door and her

mother’s nasal whine on the other side. ‘Addy? I’ve brought

you something to help you sleep. Can I come in?’

Horrified, she and Tristan bolted upright as the door

knob turned.

‘Wait, mother!’ Addy pulled the covers up to her chin

as Tristan leapt to the floor, straightening his cravat and

pulling on his boots with lightning speed.

‘Why, Tristan …?’ Mrs Henley’s cloying smile didn’t fool

Adelaide. ‘I didn’t know you were here. I’m so sorry to


Adelaide felt like seizing the mug her mother carried with

such false solicitude and hurling it at the wall. Instead, she

hurled herself back down onto her bed with a sob as her

husband bowed before leaving the room.

Please drop by and visit me at my website or blog

Or twitter: @BeverleyOakley

And you can buy The Maid of Milan here:

Amazon US        Amazon UK– 

It has just come out in e-book and will be released shortly in paperback, large print and audio. 

Beverley Eikli is the author of eight historical romances, three of which have been shortlisted Favourite Historical by Australian Romance Readers Association.

She has worked as a journalist, editor, airborne geophysical survey operator and embraced a life of adventure after meeting her  husband, a handsome Norwegian bush pilot around a camp fire in Botswana.

Twenty years later, after exploring the world in the back of Cessna 404s and CASA 212s during low-level sorties over the French Guyanese jungle and Greenland’s ice cap, Beverley is back in Australia teaching in the Department of Professional Writing & Editing at Victoria University, in Melbourne.


Hi Ivy,

Nice to be back at MR.

I’ve been busy the last couple of weeks preparing for my first ‘History Through Costume’ talk which I presented last night. Dressed in a 1780s polonaise, with the stays, panniers chemise and underwear of the period I discussed the changing silhouette and mostly English and French history between 1750 and 1820 to a room of 50 local library patrons.

With wine and cupcakes to finish it was a huge success and the questions didn’t stop.

So when I collapsed, exhausted into bed, after so many weeks of dressmaking, I decided I really needed an early night tonight.

THEN I remembered I had my first Ellora’s Cave erotic Historical releasing today, and there was naturally work to be done.

So here is a bit about my favourite new release, Her Gilded Prison


Her Gilded Prison is an intense, passionate Regency Historical of forbidden love between an older woman and a younger man. I adored writing as it just seemed to write itself. My young hero, 24-year-old Stephen Cranbourne, is just like many randy young men when he sets off on his journey as heir apparent to Viscount Partington and his large estate.

En route he’s seduced by a scheming fortune hunter who tricks him into a wager over some mating spiders. It’s a wager that comes back to haunt him some time after he’s ensconced in his new life, setting the hearts aflutter of Lord and Lady Partington’s two daughters: vain and dazzling Araminta and plain, sweet-natured Hetty.

In the meantime, though, cabbage-headed Edgar, the former heir to the estate, returns from the battle-field. Presumed dead, he has in fact deserted.

Now Lord and Lady Partington will do anything to ensure that Edgar, their clodpole of a nephew, never inherits the estate.

In his wildest dreams, Stephen Cranbourne never imagined his duties would be so diverse.

Below I’ve included the first couple of pages as an excerpt. I hope you like it.


The three men were on their knees, heads craned forward, eyes fixed with prurient interest on the amorous adventure playing out on the gossamer web before them.

“He’s launching in, for God’s sake! Dipping his wick—if you could only see it! Look at him.” The young Earl of Barston’s breath was hot on Stephen’s arm, his gaze rapt as he asked in an excited whispered, “She’ll kill him for it?”

Stephen’s host, Sir Archie Ledger, laughed coarsely. “You say he knows his reward is death?” The young baronet jostled his companions for a better look and his eyes bulged with excitement.  He twisted his head to dart a glance at his wife who sat calmly embroidering at the far end of the drawing room, before adding under his breath, “The fuck of eternal damnation, eh? I reckon that’s what I got.”

It was no secret Sir Archie had been pressured into marriage following an indiscretion with the lovely but sharp-tongued Miss Julia Preston.

Lady Julia raised her head at the commotion and her voice cut like scissors into the schoolboy game Stephen was orchestrating. “I say, gentlemen, what’s more interesting than paying some attention to the ladies? Mr. Cranbourne, I want you to please take a seat by me and tell me all about your new benefactor.”

The three young men huddled closer, eyes still fixed on the spider’s web just below the escritoire. “Take cover, gentlemen, here she comes.” Sir Archie’s tone soured. “No, it’s no good. She’s found us. Story of my life. Fun’s over.”

Stephen, still on his knees, blinked to see first Lady Julia’s well-turned ankle and then, as she bent down, her lovely face. As her lively green eyes locked with his he wondered at Archie’s discontent. She was a diamond of the first water.

“What is so fascinating, gentlemen?” Her intimate murmur sounded as if it were just for him. Her gaze was certainly focused on him as her mouth curved in a secret, knowing smile.

Stephen sucked in a breath and found he was quite unable to answer. Since he’d come back from war he was unused to mixing in such elite company, though he remembered frequenting houses like this when he was a boy before his mother’s decline.

Just when he assumed she’d solicit her husband for information, she brushed his hand with hers, the smile that was just for him still in place.

Good God, he thought he’d imagined it before. Now, with Sir Archie still on his haunches to her right, reluctantly in the process of rising, Stephen was quite clearly being conveyed a secret message. Lady Julia admired him. He forced himself to breathe evenly as his cock sprang to attention. He could not rise now, for God’s sake. He must keep them watching at least a few seconds longer.

“She’s going to devour him.” The urgency in his voice that had nothing to do with the mating spiders.

“Nothing happening.” Archie sounded bored as he groaned and gripped the table leg to heave himself up. Stephen had wondered at a match between the spindly-legged, chinless baronet and the ravishing debutante conducted in such haste the season before. He’d not thought about the lovely Miss Julia again until news spread that the couple had been blessed with twin boys within a barely timely eight and a half months of their nuptials.

Now Lady Julia looked as dewy fresh and desirable as she had when Stephen had admired her in the ballroom as a young man experienced in battle but completely unprepared for London society. His mother had left him little of the vast fortune she’d frittered away through drink and gambling but enough to at least deport himself like the gentleman he’d been born.

He managed. Just.

“No, nothing happening,” muttered Barston, rising unsteadily. “I’ll wager a thousand monkeys you’re all hot air, Cranbourne.”

Lady Julia, who’d straightened, bent at the waist to peer again at the scene that had so excited the gentlemen. “Oh, my goodness, the spider jumped!” she squeaked, twisting round so suddenly she tripped over her husband’s arm and fell full length upon Stephen.

For a second he just lay beneath her, eyes wide with shock as her soft curves molded his hard—very hard—contours, not all of them his bones.

“Get up, Julia. Cranbourne, do you accept the wager?” Archie, who sounded as if these were everyday occurrences, took his wife’s elbow and hauled her to her feet. But not before Julia had slanted a knowing and very provocative look at Stephen.

“What? Er, yes,” Stephen mumbled, paying only half a mind. He rarely gambled these days. He had only to recall his wretched, fatherless youth and the antics of his feckless, beloved, wager-mad mama.

“Good fellow!” A hearty handshake followed as Stephen rose. He took refuge behind the back of the Egyptian sofa and forced a strained smile at his hosts.

“I do love an unusual wager.” Lady Julia adopted a pose of rare solidarity beside her husband. “So this big, bold, female spider—obviously a prime article in the arachnid world—has just suffered the amorous attentions of her tiny, boring, timid, ineffectual husband.” Her knowing smile broadened and her words were heavy with emphasis as she enunciated each one. It was impossible to miss her meaning and Stephen could only wonder that Archie didn’t bristle at the obvious allusion to their own marital situation. She stroked Archie’s arm while asking Stephen in silky tones, “You’re the celebrated man of science in the room, Mr. Cranbourne. Please explain in…explicit terms…the courting rituals of the spider world.”

Stephen flicked a glance at Archie. Fortunately he appeared to be his usual good-humored self—and just as keen for information as his wife.

He cleared his throat. “The male spider will court the female and…and then after he…”

“Impregnates her?” Lady Julia supplied with an inquiring smile.

“That’s correct, yes, the female will devour him.” Stephen let out his breath in a low whistle as his erection finally subsided. God, he hoped Archie hadn’t noticed. Lady Julia was a diamond of the first water but she was dangerous and Stephen wasn’t in a position to alienate the few advantageous connections he’d made since his unexpected elevation in the world.

“Nonsense!” Archie let out a guffaw. “The male of every species is infinitely superior in every respect and I’ll wager the insect world is no exception. Cranbourne, if this pretty boy spider is still safely in his love lair, gazing raptly at his lady love in two hours, then I’ve won the wager.”

Stephen quirked an eyebrow, the fog which clouded his brain finally clearing. He’d not realisedrealized what he’d agreed to. Honesty and fair play won over though the temptation to take advantage of Sir Archie was great. “I’m happy to call off the wager, old chap. It was foolishly done in the heat of the moment, for one can’t bet against the laws of nature. The study of spiders was my childhood hobby. As sure as the sun rises in the east this puny male will have been devoured by his mate by 2amtwo a.m.”

“The wager stands.” Archie grinned. “I’m willing to bet that a female is no match for a male— – in any arena.” He glanced at his wife. “Don’t I prove that time and time again, dearest?”

Lady Julia’s smile for her husband was limpid but when she slid her eyes across to Stephen he read calculation in their depths. Arousal slammed through him and he lowered his head to hide the guilt that burned his cheeks. If Archie were to intercept the silent messages she was sending him, the young baronet would go wild. Particularly if he knew the effect they were having on Stephen.

Stephen had drunk more than usual yet he was not addle witted. When he rose from his bow, his three companions were looking at him. He shrugged helplessly. Tomorrow he was to meet Lord Partington, his new benefactor. He wanted to be in top form. On the other hand, he’d need to stay to see his wager translate into a thousand pounds, an enormous sum but one that seemed neither here nor there to Archie.

Archie was now bending over again, peering at the web beneath the table. “Can’t say the housemaids are up to snuff in this place but it’s good for a lark. Nothing’s happening. Reckon the old boy’s going to turn tail and run in a sec. Now, ’nother drink, old chap?”

“Thank you,” Stephen replied, though his bladder was full to bursting. He moved to the door. “Call of nature,” he mumbled. “Please excuse me.”

He drew in a lungful of air as he headed up the passageway to the privy. He’d have to return in the next few minutes to keep an eye on his booty though he’d much rather have gone to bed. Still, he couldn’t afford to lose the wager. It would be some time before he became the next Viscount Partington, with all that came with it.

He was just issuing into the corridor, bending to adjust his breeches, when a whiff of familiar orange-water scent assailed his nostrils.

“Good Lord, I beg your pardon.” He stepped back as if stung from the connection of his forehead connecting with Lady Julia’s pert breasts as he straightened. Half expecting an outraged slap, he was astonished by the warmth of her expression as she raised her candle.

“You are a very handsome man, Stephen.” There was no mistaking the intention, conveyed by the calculating gleam in her eye and husky whisper.

Her delicate fingers curved around his wrist and she gave a gentle tuck. Obediently followed her, not knowing what to expect.

And certainly not expecting the door of a small closet to be closed behind him, plunging them into almost total darkness save for the candle she set upon the windowsill.

“Lady Julia—”

Visit Beverley here  and here 


Beverley’s blog





Beverley Eikli celebrates regaining book rights

It’s great to be back at Manic Readers and, what’s more, to have exciting news.


First of all, though, let me introduce myself properly. I’m an Australian romance author who writes Regencies (as Beverley Eikli) and erotic Historicals (as Beveley Oakley) for a variety of publishers. I live in a pretty country town north of Melbourne and have been married for eighteen wonderful years to a really cool Norwegian pilot whom I met around a campfire in Botswana the night before I was due to fly home to marry my boyfriend of 8 years.

It’s therefore no surprise I became a romance writer since I’ve starred in my own very happy romance. Mind you, the life of a pilot’s wife isn’t always romantic and glamorous but the upside is the adventure. Before our first daughter, now 11, was born, we lived in Namibia, Botswana, Norway and Canada (while I worked as an airborne geophysical survey operator in French Guyana and Greenland and my husband piloted the plane).

Post children, we’ve lived in Perth (Western Australia), Solomon Islands, Adelaide (South Australia), Japan and now, finally – for the last 5 years – near Melbourne.

Writing was the one constant for me though it took me 23 years to get published after writing my first book at seventeen. I do feel a little embarrassed to admit, though, that there were a few good reasons that it took me so long to achieve my dreams of holding my first printed baby.

One of these was drowning the heroine on the last page of my historical romance. Also, my story was set in the Clare Valley in South Australia. You can see I hadn’t done my homework – though, really, what do you know at seventeen? Well, enough that you certainly don’t kill off your heroine in a romance and that my market research should have made it clear you have a hard time selling books that have unpopular settings.

So now we’re in the digital age and I feel like the pilot’s wife who’s already lived half a dozen consecutive life cycles has just metamorphosed into another alternative being. One who’s learning to harness the internet to make the most of the hard work that’s gone before.

You see, I’ve just got the rights back to my first three books which were originally published by my UK publisher, in hardcover and Large Print.

I am so excited about this and so I’ve started an experiment with Kindle, Smashwords and CreateSpace.

One month ago I uploaded to Amazon Kindle and Smashwords my first Regency Romance, Lady Sarah’s Redemption. After going through the proofs my original publisher had approved I found there was nothing to change, and assumed this would be the case with my two subsequent books. I also wanted to make Lady Sarah’s Redemption available through as many channels as possible.

My second book – Lady Farquhar’s Butterfly  – is already available as an e-book on Amazon through my publisher, Robert Hale, so I could only make changes to it in paperback form. Once again, after going through it with a fine toothcomb, I ultimately made no changes and I used CreateSpace, which did a great job, for the paperback version. The postage of the books from the US to Australia was going to be the biggest factor when stocking up for my author talks (which I do in eighteenth century period costume) but I’m lucky. My husband flies to LA regularly and can pick up the books for me there.




 A Little Deception – was nominated Favourite Historical Romance in 2011 by ARRA (Romance Readers of Australia) however I was never entirely happy with it. I’d had to cut 15,000 words from it just before it was published and tone down the sensuality. I’d found that my books were getting progressively more sensual but this didn’t fit my publisher’s guidelines. Many of the reviews I received for A Little Deception indicated dissatisfaction at having the bedroom door slammed in the reader’s face.

So, with my rights having reverted to me, what an opportunity to be able to update the original version!

For most of the book my hero and heroine are a married couple forced together through deception, and the plot focuses on the tug-of-war between reluctant desire and mistrust – engineered by malignant forces – before the villain is unmasked and the lovers can stumble towards the truth, and each other.





Within the next couple of days it’ll be uploaded to Amazon’s Kindle Select with a beautiful new cover and a very virile hero bursting off the page, clasping to his manly breast a heroine who is no longer overshadowed by her beautiful, scheming sister-in-law. (Well, actually, the cover itself is in lovely tones of blue with a beautiful and mysterious woman wearing a masquerade mask, but you get the idea.)

I think it’s quite cool that the original hard cover version will sit on my local library shelves beside its wickeder version. Same plot but different heat level.

Anyway, I thought I’d experiment with Kindle Select which means giving them  90-day exclusivity and see how sales compare with my self-published second version of Lady Sarah’s Redemption and my publisher e-release of Lady Farquhar’s Butterfly.

Having just attended my 12th consecutive Romance Writers of Australia conference on the Gold Coast my head is buzzing with the variety of options now available to writers. So much has changed in the publishing world and I’m excited to be an author in this changing landscape.

So, this is for those wanting a taste of  A Little Deception.


A Little Deception Blurb:

A one-night charade to save the family sugar plantation wins loyal and determined Rose Chesterfield more than she bargained for – marriage to the deliciously notorious rake, Viscount Rampton. Her fears that she has unwittingly tricked him to the altar are swept away by happiness beyond her wildest dreams as she and Rampton discover a mutual desire neither had expected. 

However, Rampton’s love for his wife soon turns to fears that her trickery goes beyond leg-shackling him for life as Rose is implicated in a series of high profile jewel heists.

Is the woman he’d come to trust nothing more than a fortune hunter with a penchant for money, men and mischief? Or are there sinister forces at work trying to tear the lovers apart?


The following scene takes place as Lord Rampton cynically contemplates Rose’s inevitable demands after the two of them have been discovered in a compromising situation in his bedchamber by Rose’s brother.

‘MISS CHESTERFIELD.’ Miss Chesterfield. The name should have provoked rage; instead, Rampton was dismayed by a surge of feeling that was so far from rage as to render him no better than a drooling schoolboy when confronted with the object of his adolescent obsession.

‘Show her in,’ he said, struggling for the self-possession that had always been second nature to him and tossing aside the reading matter which had failed to engage his attention for the past hour.

So, she had come to state her terms.

Having been caught well and truly in flagrante delicto, he accepted he had no one but himself to blame. Experience with women had tuned his antennae finely when it came to sensing all manner of ruses calculated to inveigle him into matrimony. But Lady Chesterfield – Miss Chesterfield, as it turned out – had slipped entirely under his guard.

Stonily he faced the door while he waited for her to enter, the events of the past week flashing through his mind. For twenty-four hours after she’d been hauled off by her brother, Rampton had paced his study like a caged lion, fuelling his anger with the multiple lies and untruths she’d fed him as he tried to relive exactly the moment at which he should have become aware of her deception. Any half-intelligent man would have sensed that not all was as it seemed at the very outset, he told himself.

Cynically, he had waited for Miss Chesterfield to call and negotiate the terms of his matrimonial incarceration. He had practised all manner of snide and ironic responses, while his anticipation at seeing her again had grown steadily more unbearable.

He wanted only to tell her what he thought of her.

So he assumed.

But she had not come, and that had been worse.

After three days he’d snapped. Arriving unannounced, he had confronted a pale and patently uncomfortable Sir Charles in his study and stonily dictated the terms of a marriage contract. He was a man of honour and he had compromised a lady. She was the clear victor in their final round; she had more than just pinked him. Now he must pay the price.

Rampton had been prepared for a rambling defence from Sir Charles of his sister’s behaviour. And, if Sir Charles were in a robust mood, perhaps a healthy lashing of recrimination for Rampton.

But when the young baronet said only that his sister did not wish to marry him Rampton was at last moved to anger.

‘Doing it too brown, sir!’ he declared. ‘She engineered that little scene so that I’d have no choice but to suffer her joy as she leg-shackled me on her triumphant progress towards the altar!’

Sir Charles, looking white around the gills, concurred miserably, ‘I know, I know. But she’s made me tell you, expressly, my lord, that she has no intention of holding you to marriage. That, in fact, she does not desire it.’

‘Does not desire it?’

He could not believe it. It was all part of the charade. There was a trick involved somewhere, though right now he could not see it.

Not want to marry him?

Why, every unmarried female participating in the social whirligig was there because she wanted to get married and most of them saw waltzing off with him as the ultimate feather in their caps.

Not want to marry him? When she’d gone to such pains to ensure him?

The very notion was preposterous.

He would not believe it.


Thanks so much for having me, Ivy. I look forward to dropping by next month. 🙂

Thank you for taking the time to drop by, Beverley.  Isn’t it obvious that Homer just adores Beverley?

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Beverley on Amazon



Pirates, Pilots and Happy Endings with Beverley Eikli

“Mummy, do you often wish you were a pirate?” my 7-year-old daughter asked me this morning while I dished up three bowls of breakfast porridge.

As the rain slashed against the kitchen window the idea of sailing the seven seas with a parrot on my shoulder, surrounded by dozens of bare-chested, cutlass-wielding pirates did sound rather appealing.

Imagination is a wonderful thing and I’m so glad my daughters have it in spade-loads. Undoubtedly, imagination saved my sanity when I was in the final stages of writing my Regency Romantic Intrigue, Lady Sarah’s Redemption for my husband had just broken his back and I was about to give birth.

Funnily enough, a glorious Spanish galleon adorns the front cover of the kindle edition of Lady Sarah’s Redemption, which is at last available in three formats, including paperback.

I wonder whether we pour more of ourselves into our first heroines. Like me in my youth, Lady Sarah was an adventurer. She wasn’t going to cave in to her father’s strictures by acceding to a sensible marriage to her best friend James. Certainly, it would consolidate the family fortunes by joining the two neighbouring estates but Sarah wanted a marriage based on true love.

So she did what any sensible girl would do. She bought herself time. Mind you, running off to sea was probably a bit radical for a Regency ‘miss’ but I see the rationale of her thinking. I ran off from my secure job as a journalist on a South Australian newspaper to manage a safari lodge in Botswana’s beautiful Okavango Delta for similar reasons: to escape the pressure of an eight-year relationship.

Poor Lady Sarah nearly came to a sticky end when she was the sole survivor of a shipwreck – or so she thought – but, like a sleek, jaunty water rat, she picked herself up and directed her considerable charm and wit towards winning the unexpected man of her dreams.

For me, it was love at first sight, also. I knew after only four hours talking around a campfire in Botswana that this handsome Norwegian bush pilot who’d just flown in my latest group of American guests was the man for me.

Like Sarah’s story, mine has a happy ending but I’ll let the blurb, below, explain her scenario:


When spoiled heiress Lady Sarah Miles assumes the identity of a drowned governess to escape marriage to her best friend, James, she thinks her troubles will be over within the fortnight. 

Arriving at the grand estate of reformist MP Roland Hawthorne to take charge of the tortured widower’s rebellious sixteen-year-old daughter, Caro, Sarah unexpectedly forms a strong attachment to the occupants of her new household. 

But when Sarah’s deceit plays into the hands of an unexpected adversary who uses Caro as a pawn in a high stakes game of revenge, Sarah must risk everything she holds dear – including her love for Roland – to redeem herself.


I did love writing Lady Sarah’s Redemption which I finished when my husband was in rehabilitation. As I was nine months pregnant, pouring out a thrilling ending that would solve my heroine’s troubles was my salvation.

Since then we’ve traversed some peaks and troughs but my husband is now more pain-free than not and once again doing what he loves – flying jets – while I can assure you, Lady Sarah was mighty clever in the way she engineered her own Happy Ever After.

Though you won’t encounter bare-chested pirates wielding cutlasses and damsels in distress lashed to the main mast, I hope readers of Lady Sarah’s Redemption are transported into an equally exciting world where strong heroines can solve their own problems – as well as the problems of those they love.

For a short time only Lady Sarah’s Redemption is available on kindle for just 0.99c.


Buy the book

Beverley’s Website

Beverley’s Blog



Beverley writes traditional Regency romances as Beverley Eikli and erotic or sensual historicals as Beverley Oakley.


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