fuonlyknew

All That Remains

Samantha Grosser

Publication date: September 15th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance

A choice shaped by war. A life in its shadow. One last chance to make peace with the past.

1998. Eva Marlowe has never asked her husband if he regrets his decision – she isn’t sure she wants to know the answer. But when news arrives that his estranged son has died, she feels the foundations of their marriage begin to shift beneath her. Then the funeral draws them back to Silverwood Hall where it all began, and she can no longer avoid the question.

1939. As Europe teeters on the brink of war, young socialite Eva Ravensby has been sent home from the Riviera in disgrace. Grounded at the family seat of Silverwood Hall, she chafes against the constraints of her upbringing, until her brother brings aspiring writer Ben Marlowe home for the summer.

Ben is utterly compelling. And wholly unsuitable. So when he asks Eva to marry him the night before he leaves for war, she refuses. Duty must come before love, and her father would never forgive her. But how can she possibly know the train of events her answer has set in motion? As the war takes its toll on them both, her refusal shapes their lives in ways they can never undo. Then, in the aftermath, an unexpected second chance arises. But the price they must pay for it is more than they could have imagined.

Now, decades later, as Ben grieves for the son he never knew, Eva faces the question she has spent a whole marriage refusing to ask: was she ever truly the life he chose?

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On the day of the funeral, Eva drives with her signature brand of recklessness and skill. When they were young, the thrill of it was intoxicating: Ben can still recall with absolute clarity the heady feeling of that long ago summer before the war – an awareness of their youth and vitality and a belief in the wonders the future had in store for them. He had never felt so alive. But as he grew older and more aware of his mortality, each swerve and near miss became nothing short of terrifying.

Now, watching Eva in profile as she slams her palm with impatience against the steering wheel at a slow car ahead of them, he finds himself thinking it would actually be quite a fine way to go, wrapped together in tangled metal, a definitive end.

Eva lets out a curse as the column of traffic slows to a crawl and he quenches a smile, taking the opportunity to watch her a little longer. He will never tire of looking at her face, marvelling at the fine chiselled lines of her cheekbones and her jaw, the forget-me-not blue of eyes that are still as bright and clear as on the day they first met. She catches him watching her from the edge of her eye and turns her head.

‘Are you all right?’

Her question drags his thoughts reluctantly back to the purpose of their journey.

George’s funeral.

His son.

He shifts awkwardly in the seat of the car. The trousers of the wool suit are rough and itchy – it’s been a while since he’s worn it and his skin has become more sensitive with age. He stretches out as much as he can in the confined space and tries not to think about how stiff his hips will be after an hour and a half in the car.

‘I’m fine,’ he says, and they both know it’s a lie.

He’s still in two minds about going at all and with each successive roundabout they come to, it crosses his mind to ask Eva to drive right around it and take them back home. But he says nothing, and the Audi bears them in sleek leather comfort ever closer to their destination.

‘We don’t have to go,’ Eva offers, reading his discomfort with her usual clarity.

‘But you think I should,’ he replies, which is unfair, because they’ve talked about it endlessly in the days since the letter arrived and they came to the decision together. But he’s in no frame of mind to be reasonable. Anger seethes in his gut, bitter and relentless, and he only hopes he can contain it once they get there. Eva says nothing, eyes trained with uncharacteristic attention on the road ahead.

Abruptly, the anger slides into guilt. Such a pointless emotion, but he’s spent most of his life in its grip, one way or another. Guilt for dreaming and wanting more; for hurting people and for poor decisions; for living a life that is full of regret for what he lost instead of gratitude for all he has. He loves Eva desperately and always has, but he’s conscious he has not always been the best of husbands. He lets out a low sigh.

‘I’m sorry,’ he offers.

His wife flashes him a quick look of forgiveness, and he touches his fingers to where her hand rests on the gear lever. The last person in the world he wants to fight with is Eva.

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About Author Samantha Grosser:

Samantha Grosser is a very British author who doesn’t function without tea. Having spent many years teaching English in Asia and Australia, she has now made her home on the sunny beaches of Sydney, Australia, where she lives with her husband, son, and a very small dog called Livvy.

She is the author of wartime dramas Another Time and Place, The Officer’s Affair, and Out of the Ashes, and the historical novel The King James Men. When she isn’t writing or reading, (which isn’t often) you can find her either doing yoga, going for long walks, or watching old movies.

You can find out more at samgrosserbooks.com

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Hearth or Heart

By Emily Lane

(The Bowman Girls, #1)
Publication date: July 13th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical, Historical Romance, Romance

After her father dies, Effie Bowman and her eight sisters are left penniless, homeless, and alone. Salvation comes in the form of the new custodian of the estate, Mr Thornaby. But the more she learns of Mr Thornaby, the more she realises he needs her discretion as much as she needs his security.

In her efforts to moderate the wild Mr Thornaby, she recruits the unlikely aid of ton society’s most determined widower, Sir John Callander.

As the season progresses and Effie pulls Sir John deeper into her desperate schemes to moderate Mr Thornaby, both are forced to wonder if Effie is attempting to tame the wrong gentleman.

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Of all the consequences to befall a clutch of daughters belonging to an entailed estate, this one was quite outside the common.

‘£20 a month in pin money?!’ cried Effie.

‘Each.’

Mrs Thornaby, ensconced in a cream morning gown of twilled French silk that seemed to defy her age, smiled most becomingly upon her niece.

‘That is just for your frills and affects and whatever other small accoutrements you young girls require these days,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘Your dresses, gowns, and hats, of course, can be drawn against my son’s account.’

‘Ma’am, I could never.’

‘Oh, yes, you could,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘That boy has too much money.’

Effie’s eyes flashed, and she yanked her gaze down.

Grimacing, Mrs Thornaby said, ‘So, your mother has told you a little of it, I collect.’

‘She has, ma’am,’ Effie admitted.

Mrs Thornaby looked her up and down.

‘Your mother tells me you are an exceptionally good manager.’

Now the talk of money had faded, Effie’s calm, dark eyes levelled upon Mrs Thornaby once more.

‘Yes, ma’am, it’s true.’

‘I suppose with eight sisters, borne of a mother of my sister’s temperament, you, as the eldest, should rather be forced into such a role, even if it was not of your disposition.’

A smirk crossed Effie’s features as she declared, ‘That much is true, to be sure.’

‘But men and boys are a different matter indeed.’

Effie’s hands, trying to thread a needle, paused. She set her embroidery box down and took up her cup of tea.

‘I have no brothers.’

‘Clearly,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘And husbands? What thoughts have you on them?’

‘Not so many, ma’am. I can scarcely imagine having one, never mind plural!’

Mrs Thornaby did not laugh. Instead she set down her teacup with a clatter.

‘As you may have heard, my son returned last night from Brighton.’ She paused. ‘My son is… a particular kind of fellow.’

Effie’s brow arched. Having heard—during the small hours of the morning—this particular kind of fellow stumble through the upstairs hallway singing about the roast beef of Great Britain, she was inclined to agree with a great many insinuations that issued from that vague sobriquet.

‘Indeed?’

‘He is now, of course, the custodian of your late father’s estate—by some contortion of family lines.’

Society in the northeast of England was sparse. Somehow, Mrs Thornaby’s son had ended up taking title to the entail of her sister’s late husband’s estate.

‘Yes.’

‘It is all that is natural, then,’ Mrs Thornaby went on. ‘That my son should marry you, to maintain my sister’s place at Barraton.’

What little of the sisterly rivalry that had been passed on to Effie permitted her to regard this piece of charity with deep suspicion. Her eyes cinched a touch.

‘With respect, ma’am, I fail to see why Mr Thornaby should want to marry me.’

‘I do not.’

Blushing, Effie picked up her embroidery box again. ‘I mean, ma’am, that Mr Thornaby must have a great many… um, admirers. I cannot see that he will mark me with any distinction.’

‘He will not, but I shall tell him he is to marry you. Likely, the novelty of it will tickle him, and he will entertain it for a while. Thereafter, it is your duty to… charm him.’

Effie touched her nose. She looked around the cavernous room.

It was an early, grey morning, but the shiny mahogany and silk furniture, glossy wallpapered walls, and great sash windows shone under the blaze of three gilded hearths.

‘Oh. I see.’

Mrs Thornaby’s eyes followed Effie’s, and she grimaced.

‘We are family, Miss Bowman. Now more than we ever were. My son represents Barraton. He is Barraton.’

Effie’s jaw quirked.

‘To put things plainly, my dear, it has lately come to my attention that my son is very much in need of the companionship, temperance, and governance that a wife must, to some unions, bring.’

Mrs Thornaby paused.

‘Now, am I saying that my son is bereft of the faculties required in choosing or acquiring a wife? I am not. But one cannot but put more faith in one’s own family, especially a family so interconnected.’

Effie bowed her head. ‘It would be in my best interests, indeed, to… govern Mr Thornaby—as a wife or no.’

‘But as a wife especially,’ Mrs Thornaby reiterated.

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About Author Emily Lane:

Emily Lane writes sweet, clean Regency Romance perfect for fans of Georgette Heyer, Sophia Holloway, and Sophie Irwin. Hearth or Heart, her debut, launches July 13th. By day, Emily is a Management Consultant in the Lifesciences industry – she hopes her novels have just as much chemistry as her job! She lives in Thailand, which would be inconvenient but for the hot weather.

The Bowman Girls is Emily’s first Regency romance series, with 3 books currently planned:

Hearth or Heart (out now)

Past or Promise (Late 2026)

Duty or Devotion (Late 2026)

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Unmasking The Marquess organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

Author Pamela Gibson will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

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Unmasking  The Marquess

By Pamela Gibson

Genre: Historical Romance

 Synopsis

He was a licentious rogue, or was he?

Aubrey St. Clair, Marquess of Leisterbridge, a notorious rake and society fribble, abandons his bride on their wedding night to spite his father, the man who coerced him into the marriage. When his intrepid bride turns up at his personal estate to quash the scandal, they call a truce and finally get to know each other.

Lady Catherine Sturbridge considered ending her betrothal. But a threatening letter sent to her by a convicted criminal whom she chanced upon in London, changed her mind. Marrying the powerful Duke of Gresham’s heir would keep her loved ones safe, even if she must tie herself to a frivolous rogue.

When, despite her silence, her enemy abducts her godchild, Catherine is forced to confide in her husband who agrees to help her. But can she trust him to know what to do when a child’s life is at stake and they’ve been warned not to go to go the authorities?

As they work closely together, they succumb to the passionate side of their marriage. But Catherine is wary, despite finding a different man under the guise of a society dandy, and when Aubrey reveals a long-held secret, she must protect her heart because betrayal is the enemy of trust and their fragile, new-found love is about to shatter.

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“A bit solemn, are you not, my dear? If you keep biting your lower lip, I shall have to offer you my handkerchief to staunch the blood, and I would hate to soil it. Smile. This is, after all, your wedding day.”

“And yours, as you now have access to a considerable dowry to fund all of your bad habits.”

The rogue put his hand on her chin and turned her face toward him. A broad grin lit up his face as if taunting her brought him the greatest of pleasures. “Now, now, Catherine. I am not as bad as all that. You might be pleasantly surprised once you get to know me. Gossip would have me sporting horns and a forked tail.”

“I remember seeing a poster with you seated on a bed surrounded by well-endowed, unclad ladies in various positions. Your face, horns, and tail were well-drawn. The only thing missing being signs of the pox.”

The laughter did not leave his face when he clutched his heart. “You wound me, wife. I do not now, nor have I ever, had the pox, if that is the cause of your sour expression.”

“I am relieved to hear it. However, this conversation must be put off. We are nearing my father’s house.”

Horses were drawn to a halt, and the marquess alighted first then turned and grabbed Catherine around the waist, swinging her in a circle before setting her on her feet.

“Milord, are you mad?” she squealed.

He tilted his head and grinned. “Perhaps. Shall we make our grand entrance through the stately front doors?”

Oh lord, what have I done?

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About Author Pamela Gibson:

Author of eight books on California history and twenty-three romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who lives in Southern Nevada. Having spent several years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading, writing, cooking and keeping up with the antics of her latest rescue cat, Lady Diana, a dignified senior. She loves red wine, all kinds of chocolate, old Jimmy Buffet sailing songs, and curling up with a good book.

Thank you for reading. If you are so inclined, we would love for you to leave a review or rating.

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