Romancing Robin Hood is a contemporary romance based on the life of Dr Grace Harper, a medieval history lecturer with a major Robin Hood obsession.
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| Jenny Kane |
An Unexpected Wedding
When
you’re in love with a man of legend,how can anyone else match up? Dr
Grace Harper has loved the stories of Robin Hood ever since she first saw them
on TV as a teenager. Now, with her fortieth birthday just around the corner,
she’s a successful academic in Medieval History—but Grace is stuck in a rut.
Grace
is supposed to be writing a textbook
on a real-life medieval criminal gang—the
Folvilles—but instead she is captivated by a novel she’s secretly writing.
A
medieval mystery which entwines the story of Folvilles with her long-time love
of Robin Hood—and a feisty young woman named Mathilda of Twyford. Just
as she is trying to work out how Mathilda can survive being kidnapped by the
Folvilles, Grace’s best friend Daisy announces she is getting married. After a
whirlwind romance with a man she loves as muchas the creatures in her animal
shelter, Daisy has press-ganged Grace into being her bridesmaid.
Witnessing
Daisy’s new-found happiness, Grace starts to re-evaluate her own life. Is her
devotion to a man who may or may not have lived hundreds of years ago really a
substitute for a real-life hero of her own? Grace’s life doesn’t get any easier
when she meets Dr Robert Franks—a rival academic who she is determined to
dislike but finds herself being increasingly drawn to… If only he didn’t know
quite so much about Robin Hood. Suddenly,
spending more time living in the past than the present doesn’t seem such a good
idea...
Extract from
...Daisy
hadn’t grown up picturing herself floating down the aisle in an over-sequinned
ivory frock, nor as a doting parent, looking after triplets and walking a black
Labrador. So when, on an out-of-hours trip to the local vet’s surgery she’d met
Marcus and discovered that love at first sight wasn’t a myth, it had knocked
her for six.
She’d
been on a late-night emergency dash to the surgery with an owl a neighbour had
found injured in the road. Its wing had required a splint, and it was too big a
job for only one pair of hands. Daisy had been more than a bit surprised when
the locum vet had stirred some long-suppressed feeling of interest in her, and
even more amazed when that feeling had been reciprocated.
It
was all luck, sheer luck. Daisy had always believed that anyone meeting anybody
was down to two people meeting at exactly the right place, at exactly the right
time, while both feeling precisely the right amount of chemistry. The fact that
any couples existed at all seemed to Daisy to be one of the greatest miracles
of humanity.
She
pictured Grace, tucked away in her mad little office only living in the
twenty-first century on a part-time basis. Daisy had long since got used to the
fact that her closest friend’s mind was more often than not placed firmly in
the 1300s. Daisy wished Grace would finish her book. It had become such a part
of her. Such an exclusive aim that nothing else seemed to matter very much.
Even the job she used to love seemed to be a burden to her now, and Daisy
sensed that Grace was beginning to resent the hours it took her away from her
life’s work. Maybe if she could get her book over with – get it out
of her system – then Grace would stop living in the wrong timeframe.
Daisy
knew Grace appreciated that she never advised her to find a bloke, settle down,
and live ‘happily ever after,’ and she was equally grateful Grace had never
once suggested anything similar to her. Now she had Marcus, however, Daisy had
begun to want the same contentment for her friend, and had to bite her tongue
whenever they spoke on the phone; something that happened less and less these
days.
Grace’s
emails were getting shorter too. The long paragraphs detailing the woes of
teaching students with an ever-decreasing intelligence had blunted down to, ‘You
ok? I’m good. Writing sparse. See you soon. Bye G x’
The
book. That in itself was a problem. Grace’s publishers and colleagues, Daisy
knew, were expecting an academic tome. A textbook for future medievalists to
ponder over in the university libraries of the world. And, in time, that was
exactly what they were going to get, but not yet, for Grace had confided to
Daisy that this wasn’t the only thing she was working on, and her textbook was
coming a poor third place to work and the other book she couldn’t seem to stop
herself from writing.
‘Why,’
Grace had forcefully expounded on their last meeting, ‘should I slog my guts
out writing a book only a handful of bored students and obsessive freaks like
myself will ever pick up, let alone read?’
As
a result, Grace was writing a novel, ‘A semi-factual novel,’ she’d said, ‘a
story which will tell any student what they need to know about the Folville
family and their criminal activities – which bear a tremendous
resemblance to the stories of a certain famous literary outlaw! – and
hopefully promote interest in the subject for those who aren’t that into
history without boring them to death.’
It
sounded like a good idea to Daisy, but she also knew, as Grace did, that it was
precisely the sort of book academics frowned upon, and she was worried about
Grace’s determination to finish it. Daisy thought it would be more sensible to
concentrate on one manuscript at a time, and get the dry epic that everyone was
expecting out of the way first. Perhaps it would have been completed by now if
Grace could focus on one project at a time, rather than it currently being a
year in the preparation without a final result in sight. Daisy suspected Grace’s
boss had no idea what she was really up to. After all, she was using the same
lifetime of research for both manuscripts. She also had an underlying suspicion
that subconsciously Grace didn’t want to finish either the textbook or the
novel; that her friend was afraid to finish them. After all, what would she
fill her hours with once they were done?
Daisy’s
mobile began to play a tinny version of Nellie
the Elephant. She hastily plopped a small black guinea pig, which she’d
temporarily called Charcoal, into a run with his numerous friends, and fished
her phone from her dungarees pocket.
‘Hi,
Marcus.’
‘Hi
honey, you OK?’
‘Just
delivering the tribe to their outside quarters, then I’m off to face the horror
that is dress shopping.’
Her
future husband laughed, ‘You’ll be fine. You’re just a bit rusty, that’s all.’
‘Rusty!
I haven’t owned a dress since I went to parties as a small child. Thirty-odd
years ago!’
‘I
don’t understand why you don’t go with Grace at the weekend. It would be easier
together wouldn’t it?’
Daisy
sighed, ‘I’d love to go with her, but I’ll never get her away from her work
more than once this month, and I’ve yet to arrange a date for her to buy a
bridesmaid outfit.’
‘Well,
good luck, babe. I’m off to rob some bulls of their manhood.’
Daisy
giggled, ‘Have fun. Oh, why did you call by the way?’
‘Just
wanted to hear your voice, nothing else.’
‘Oh
cute – ta.’
‘Idiot!
Enjoy shopping.’
As
she clicked her battered blue mobile shut and slid it back into her working
clothes, Daisy thought of Grace again. Perhaps she should accidentally invite
loads of single men to the wedding to tempt her friend with. The trouble was,
unless they wore Lincoln Green, and carried a bow and quiver of arrows, Daisy
very much doubted whether Grace would even notice they were there...
***
Brilliant! Sounds a great read. Thank you for visiting my blog, Jenny, and telling us all about your book. Who hasn't become a little too caught up in daydreams and wishful thinking? My own favourite Robin Hood was Michael Praed. Good luck with the rest of your book tour.
3 comments:
Many thanks Gilli xx
Fabulous, wishing you huge success.
Thanks for visiting my blog, Jenny and telling me about your book. It sounds intriguing. gx
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