Truce: The Historic Neighbor from Hell
A Neighbor from Hell - 4
Special Thank You to……
My cake ladies:
Latreseand Lauren Kinney whom I tried to kidnap in Florida only to find out that the Cake Lady was closed
The next day they hung out with us at Book Bash, brought us cake and kept us all very entertained.
Good luck in college, Lauren!
To L.D. Davis, Lisa Harley, Gitte Doherty, Ricki Fieldberg Wieselthler, Rick and Nicki LaCuesta and many others that I stalk for my own entertainment, thank you for making my adventures on Facebook more interesting.
And last, but not least, to Kayley and Shane, my little buddies, the bullies who beat me and steal my chocolate, I love you both and I hope like hell that you never read any of my books.
About this book…..
Thank you for buying Truce. I hope that you enjoy this book as much I have.
Before you start this book I wanted to explain a few things. The first thing, this is a historical novel, but I have written the book in a way that I’m hoping will allow someone that doesn’t normally enjoy historicals to enjoy this book. With that being said, I would also like to add that I also did my best to show this genre the respect that it deserves and did my best to make sure that readers who normally enjoy historicals won’t feel slighted by this book.
Although this is a historical, I would consider it a light historical. It is not Julia Quinn level historical. I tried to make this an enjoyable, easy read that will take the reader back to the nineteenth century and watch as the Bradford men developed.
A lot of readers have written to me over the years with questions about the Bradford men, wondering about their diets, personalities, family ties, etc. It made me wonder how it could have all started and my mind snagged on the idea of a historical. This book is meant to show you just how it all started for the Bradford men.
A word of warning though, if you are expecting a fully developed Bradford right off the bat, you won’t get that with this book. This book is mean to show you how everything started, including how the first real Bradford male got his start. The usual Bradford antics will be part of this book, but it will take a little time, patience and a woman driving Robert, the original Bradford, out of his mind.
With that in mind, I’ll let you get to the book. If you have any questions or comments, you can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org
Orangery: Building where orange trees are housed and kept warm.
Ton: Fashionable people, the nobles, etc.
Special license: A license bought in order to forgo the requirement of reading the banns before marriage. It allowed the buyer to get married quickly.
Governess: Home teacher.
Footman: Liveried servant.
Coach: Horse drawn carriage.
Season: A traditional part of the year when noble families came to London for balls, activities, etc. with the hopes of marriage, catching up on the latest gossip and spending time with friends.
Betrothed: Promised, engaged.
Pudding: A sweet dessert.
Suitor: A male with the intentions of marriage.
Alms: Charitable contribution.
“Heir and the spare”: Term used to describe the heir and the second male child who will inherit and continue the line if the first born male fails to do his duty or dies.
“Break fast”: Breaking their fast, fast meaning since the night before. First meal.
Fortune hunter: A man or woman seeking marriage with the sole purpose of obtaining a fortune.
Stone (as in weight): It’s a unit of weight.
Carriage: Horse drawn vehicle.
Society: Group of nobles, their rules, expectations, customs, etc.
Minx: Can be an insulting term, but in this book it’s a term of endearment for a woman turning her nose up at propriety.
Spinster: An unmarried woman past her prime.
“Cut Direct”: Ignored, pushed out of social circle, the ultimate snub.
Parlor: Sitting room.
Magistrate: Local law enforcement.
Chamber pot: Container used as a toilet.
Mistress: A woman given comforts, money, gifts as part of an agreement to be available for the attentions of a man as part of a business agreement. No emotions, no promises, just intimacy.
Bedlam: Psychiatric hospital.
Reticule: A woman’s purse.
Present day Massachusetts
“You’re not doing it right.”
He was going to strangle the son of a bitch with his bare hands, Jason decided as he ignored the bastard hovering over him. The party was in two hours and he wasn’t close to finishing Haley’s present. Four months of working on this damn thing first thing in the morning and last thing at night and it still wasn’t done.
Thank God his father had started bugging the shit out of him six months ago to get this done. At first he’d shrugged it off, deciding that it could wait until the last minute, but then his father, uncles and a few of his cousins started to share their horror stories with him until he decided that perhaps it would be better to just get it over with.
Four stitches, one citation for trespassing, two second degree burns, ten migraines, one wrecked pair of jeans, two-thousand miles on his car, more than a dozen sleepless nights later and he was cursing his great-great-great-great-great grandfather to hell and back for starting this bullshit tradition in the first place. Would it really have killed the inconsiderate bastard to go out and buy his wife a necklace for their fifth anniversary instead of making one and dooming all his descendants to this bullshit tradition? He really didn’t think so, especially since the man had supposedly been the brother of a very wealthy earl.
“What the hell is that supposed to be?” Trevor asked, taking a big bite out of-
“Those are my brownies, you bastard!” Jason snapped, snatching the half-eaten brownie out of his cousin’s hand.
With a roll of his eyes and a small, annoyed sigh, Trevor reached over and plucked the brownie out of Jason hand and shoved it into his mouth before Jason could steal his precious brownie back. Mangled necklace momentarily forgotten, he stood up and shoved his cousin out of the way so that he could make sure that the rest of his precious babies were okay. He felt his heart break as he neared the kitchen counter and saw what was left of the platter of brownies Haley had made him for his mid-morning snack.
“How could you?” Jason asked hollowly, picking up the empty plate and praying that his cousin had missed a delicious morsel or two, but there was no hope.
The bastard had most likely licked the plate clean.
“I was bored,” Trevor said with a shrug as he sat down at the kitchen table and leaned over to get a better look at the mangled necklace that Jason was desperately trying to finish in time for the party.
“If you’re bored, then help me,” Jason said, shooting a nervous glace up at the clock and trying not to wince at the amount of time he’d lost bitching over the loss of his precious treats.
“Can’t,” Trevor said with a shrug.
“Why the hell not?” Jason demanded, sitting down next to Trevor and picking up the small white stone bead that he’d made out of one of the rocks he’d managed to steal from the pool area of Haley’s old house.
He really wished that they hadn’t sold the house to that crabby old bastard. He’d taken great joy out of refusing to give Jason a few rocks from the pool area so that he could make Haley a necklace for their fifth anniversary. Actually, he really wished that he’d brought a steak with him later that night when he’d been forced to jump the fence so that he could grab a couple of rocks. Then again, the steak probably wouldn’t have saved him from the psychotic little dog with the pink bow that had taken his job as guard dog a little too seriously.
“Because you have to make the necklace by yourself from start to finish,” Trevor pointed out, unnecessarily since all the Bradford boys knew the rules for this tradition by the time they were ten years old.
“The party is in less than two hours,” Jason pointed out, hoping that his cousin ignored tradition and helped him. He didn’t want to disappoint his wife and he sure as hell didn’t want to break a tradition that the men in his family held sacred.