New Release | Let No Clan Put Asunder by Judith Sterling #gothiccozymystery #gothic #cozymystery #newrelease #mustread #ku
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  • N. N. Light
    • Mar 13
    • 4 min read

New Release | Let No Clan Put Asunder by Judith Sterling #gothiccozymystery #gothic #cozymystery #newrelease #mustread #ku



Title

Let No Clan Put Asunder

 

Author

Judith Sterling

 

Genre

Gothic cozy mystery

 

Book Blurb

 

“It was no small thing to marry into the Donnachaidh clan, and there was nowhere to hide from its past.”

 

So states the tagline of the gothic mystery Gwyneth Camm discovers out of place—not once, but twice—inside her newly inherited Salem home. Her deceased Aunt Ethel seems determined she read the book, and once again, Gwyn finds herself sucked into a gothic romance, inhabiting the body of its heroine.

 

This time, she’s a young bride in 1970 on her way to a clifftop castle that harbors secrets, Scottish legacies, hidden malice, and…a vampire? Only by learning the truth can she return to her own life, where yet another puzzle awaits.

 

Excerpt

 

          When next my eyes opened, I was sitting not in bed but in the back of a limousine. I wore an oatmeal-colored dress that offered a generous view of shapely thighs. My own thighs were decent, but these were nearly flawless; they must belong to Gwyndolyn Hughes. Although the dress fabric was thin, the garment resembled a coat, with a long line of shiny buttons down the front. Thick-heeled, square-toed shoes and a flowing silk scarf of pink, black, and beige completed the ensemble. Nothing appeared crumpled, probably because my character wasn’t wearing a seat belt.

 

          It’s the seventies, all right. With a wry smile, I shook my head. Here we go again.

 

          I’d learned a little from the book’s opening paragraphs. Gwyndolyn had enjoyed a whirlwind romance in Portsmouth, New Hampshire with a rich American of Scottish heritage, Alistair Robertson, whose marriage proposal she’d accepted without hesitation. For nearly four hours, she’d been traveling in this limo to her new, clifftop home on the coast of northern Maine, but it was no ordinary dwelling. Donnachaidh Castle had witnessed two hundred years of history, and her wedding this weekend would join the ranks of its most romantic events.

 

          Apart from that information, I knew the driver’s name was Clyde. He’d remained “as silent as the grave,” to quote the author, for most of the trip.

 

          Let’s see what else I can learn. “Clyde?”

 

          The thick-necked man tugged the bill of his chauffeur’s cap. “Yes, miss?”

 

          “How long till we get there?”

 

          “Not long now. Maybe five minutes.”

 

          Absently, I reached for the cell phone in my back pocket, but of course, there was none. I glanced at my left wrist. Sure enough, I wore a watch. The time was ten minutes after seven.

 

          It was still light out. The extended sunlight and lush greenery alongside the road indicated summer. Well, this is one way to escape winter. There’d be no snow to shovel here, provided the story ended before the colder months arrived. Even if it didn’t, no one would expect the romantic hero’s young bride to grab a spade or whip out the snowblower, especially in 1970. If Donnachaidh Castle lived up to its grand name, no one would expect it of the hero either.

 

          “So, Clyde…you’ve been quiet the whole way. I hope everything’s okay.”

 

          “So do I.”

 

          Say what? “You’re worried? What about?”

 

          He hesitated. “Nothing, miss.”

 

          His response did not inspire confidence. All righty then.

 

          The car slowed and turned onto a long avenue bordered by pines. We drove a good distance until at last the trees fell away. Then my jaw dropped.

 

          Up ahead was an honest-to-goodness castle, sublime and yet foreboding. The central keep rose at least five stories, attended by corner towers with conical roofs, crenellated walls, and projecting turrets. Subtle variations in color, from lighter gray to dark, made the stone seem moody, unpredictable.

 

          “Wow,” I breathed. “It looks like something you’d see in Europe.”

 

          “In Scotland, to be precise,” Clyde offered. “But surely…”

 

          “Yes?”

 

          “You never saw pictures of it?”

 

          Heck if I know. But he couldn’t know either, or he wouldn’t have asked the question. One answer was as safe as another. “Nope. I guess Alistair wanted to surprise me.”

 

          Alistair. My stomach fluttered. If we were about to marry, a wedding night would follow. Was I expected to jump into bed with a complete stranger?

 

          The limo stopped inside a courtyard. Clyde got out and opened the car door for me.

 

          I alighted, and as the sound of a restless sea met my ears, I met the driver’s gaze. Thanks to laugh lines etched at the corners of his eyes and mouth, he appeared to be in his forties. But he wasn’t laughing now; his furrowed brow betrayed his angst.

 

          “Thank you, Clyde.”

 

          “My pleasure, miss. I’ll take care of the luggage.” His husky build suggested he could handle a whole carousel of luggage with ease. “You go on in. Mr. Barnes, the butler, is waiting for you.” With an air of formality, he motioned toward the castle. As if on cue—at the author’s bidding, no doubt—a dark cloud slunk across the sky and blotted out the sun.

 

          Just what am I getting into? I took a deep breath and strode toward the castle entrance.

 

Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub)

 

The first book in the series, Trip the Light Phantasmic, will be on sale for 99 cents, and both books are available in Kindle Unlimited.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Author Biography

 

Judith Sterling is an award-winning author whose love of history and passion for the paranormal infuse everything she writes. Through gothic cozy mystery (The Gothic Gwyn Mysteries), medieval/time travel romance (The Novels of Ravenwood), and young adult paranormal fantasy (the Guardians of Erin series), she loves to whisk readers away from their troubles and remind them of the hidden magic all around us.

 

Her nonfiction books, written under Judith Marshall, have been translated into multiple languages. She has an MA in linguistics and a BA in history, with a minor in British Studies. Born in that sauna called Florida, she craved cooler climes, and once the travel bug bit, she lived in England, Scotland, Sweden, Wisconsin, Virginia, and on the island of Nantucket. She currently lives in Salem, Massachusetts with her husband and their identical twin sons.

 

Social Media Links

 

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