He is not a man wedded to action, Boleyn, but rather a man who stands by, smirking and stroking his beard; he thinks he looks enigmatic, but instead he looks as if he's pleasuring himself.
Hilary MantelTags: humor historical-fiction
Soeur Seraphina gently removed my lace fontanges. It was named for the King’s mistress Angelique de Fontanges, who had lost her hat while hunting one day and had hastily tied up her curls with her garter. The King had admired the effect, and the next day all the court ladies had appeared with their curls tied back with lace
Kate ForsythTags: historical-fiction bitter-greens kate-forsyth
The sun had just slipped behind the trees and evening cast its dark, smoky shadow.
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction historical-romance
I can hear my steps echo as I follow him to the end of the hall. The door to the small closet under the steps is standing ajar. He closes the door and latches it.
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction historical-romance
Are you a traveling man he asked?
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction historical-romance-fiction
According to Robert, his friend Moses was a soldier in the first war, as he described it. He fought Indians and soldiers in red coats.
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction historical-romance
It was not an unusual site to see Negro tenant farmers crossing the intersection of Spring and Barbrick on the way to the cotton warehouse
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction civil-war historical-romance
Children worked in the mills: "I will always believe that children are designed for green meadows and play, not for factories and cotton dust.
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction historical-romance-fiction
He is dressed in a long, white robe and in his hand is a white cap. I draw up as he passes down the hall; he does not see me. Shortly I hear a horse leaving. There is much I do not know about him, but tonight I know one of his secrets. He is a midnight rider.
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction historical-romance
It was a warm and natural feeling to be there. We were not black or white people. We were just people bound together by love and understanding. As I walked out of that church, I felt like I had rediscovered my inner peace.
Nancy B. BrewerTags: historical-fiction historical-romance
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