The Curious Profession of Dr. Craven is Amelia Grace Treader's latest work. Just released to Kindle on 4/26/15.
Blurb:
What
is a poor anatomist to do? Twenty pounds, wasted, up in smoke when the beautiful
young woman his grave-robbing supplier brought awakens as he's inspecting her.
If he's an ethical young doctor, there's only one choice; nurse the girl back
to health and restore her to her family. That's when his troubles start. The
woman can't remember anything. As his household nurses her and her memories
return, their mutual attraction buds into a flowering passion. One of the
things she has conveniently forgotten is her arranged engagement to the vulgar,
but wealthy, son of a Northern industrialist. Even when the young man
conveniently decamps with another woman, there's some deep dark secret about
Dr. Craven that her father believes makes him ineligible. Resolving the
resulting tangle in this sweet historical romance takes the combined efforts of
the doctor's once profligate brother the Earl of Craven, a displaced French
royal le Duc de Bourbon, and the visit of a mysterious French Baron to
Almack's.
Excerpt: Dr.
Craven meets his fate. He just doesn't know it yet. He's preparing to dissect another
body when things come undone.
In the
meantime, the boy undid the bandage that held the woman’s jaw shut tight. As he
pulled it off her, her mouth opened and she gasped for air.
He ran
to his father and the doctor, shouting, “I tell you, Doctor, she’s alive!”
Jonas
and the doctor walked back to him, carrying a decanter of the brandy with them.
Dr.
Craven said, “Can’t be, Lad. That must just have been gas escaping from the
body. They do that, you know, as they decompose.”
The
elder resurrection man nodded, “I’ve seen it before, many times.”
His son
replied, “So have I Dad, but this wasn’t that. She gasped for breath when I
undid the bandage.”
Dr.
Craven said, “I’ll prove she’s dead. Put her on the table.” The resurrection
men lifted the body from the floor and put it on the examining table. This
cadaver was light for the two of them to lift. It having once been a delicate
young female; they were gentler with it than they were usually.
The
doctor gave his hands a quick rinse. Something he did more for superstition
than any rational basis, and then he examined the body.
“She is
warmer than I’d expect. The decomposition must be advancing rapidly. I’ll need
that ice.” He paused. It, no not it, she breathed. It was a gasp, a weak one at
that, but a breath.
“Brandy!”
He shouted, “and be quick about it, man. She’s alive.”
The
youngest resurrection man ran for the decanter and returned as fast as he
could. “Here, sir.”
The
doctor took some and moistened the woman’s lips with it. She gasped again and
stirred. “She’s cold, bring a blanket and a warm brick.” He immediately
unwrapped the winding bandages from her body and untied the bindings on her
legs and arms. “Come man, rub her legs. We must get the blood flowing.”
Between
the warmth, the brandy, and the commotion, the woman’s eyes suddenly opened,
and she sat up. She saw this handsome dark-haired man looking at her. His
concern for her was evident in his face.
“Is
this Heaven?”
“No.
England.”
“Close
enough.” Then she lay back and closed her eyes again.
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Bio:
Amelia
Grace Treader is an author of (mostly) historical romances, with the occasional
science fiction romance thrown in for good measure. Based near Atlanta, she
writes a unique combination of romance and action. She enjoys reading history,
science fiction, and historical romance. While a child of the American South,
She's also an Anglophile and not unfamiliar with the south of England. They're more
alike than you know - There's even a Krispy Kreme doughnut shop in the Oracle
in Reading, and they're just as good as in Kennesaw.
Despite
the descriptive name of romance as “bodice rippers,” Amelia tends to write more
in the sweet style of "bodice unbuttoners" where the romance is there
but not explicit. After all, a good quality bodice was expensive, and only a
cad or puppy would damage it. It's also more consistent with the behavioral
conventions that were in place at the time.
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