Holly Bush was born in western Pennsylvania to two avid readers.
There was not a room in her home that did not hold a full bookcase. She worked
in the hospitality industry, owning a restaurant for twenty years and recently
worked as the sales and marketing director in the hospitality/tourism industry
and is credited with building traffic to capacity for a local farm tour,
bringing guests from twenty-two states, booked two years out. Holly has
been a marketing consultant to start-up businesses and has done public speaking
on the subject.
Holly has been writing all of her life and is a voracious reader
of a wide variety of fiction and non-fiction, particularly political and
historical works. She has written four romance novels, all set in the U.S. West
in the mid 1800's. She frequently attends writing conferences, and has always
been a member of a writer’s group.
Holly is a gardener, a news junkie, has been an active member of
her local library board and loves to spend time near the ocean. She is the
proud mother of two daughters and the wife of a man more than a few years her
junior.
One randomly chosen commenter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
Blurb:
1871 . . . Worlds collide when American
Suffragette, Gertrude Finch, and titled Brit Blake Sanders meet in an explosive
encounter that may forever bind them together. Gertrude Finch escorts a young
relative to London and encounters the stuffy Duke of Wexford at his worst.
Cross the Ocean is the story of an undesired, yet undeniable attraction that
takes Blake and Gertrude across an ocean and into each other’s arms.
Excerpt:
Blake went to the stables, had his horse saddled,
and rode to Anthony’s estate. Maybe
Elizabeth will ask me to stay for dinner, he thought. Then she’ll go to
bed, and Anthony and I can drink a bottle of brandy and get stewed. He could
stay there if he couldn’t ride home. A room was kept ready for him with a fresh
change of clothes. Blake smiled and felt better than he had in days.
As the butler escorted Blake down the hall of
Anthony’s home to the drawing room, he heard a loud but feminine . . . snort
and Elizabeth’s trill laughter in reply. Damn. He remembered now. A cousin of
Elizabeth’s from America, sent as an escort to another cousin, was staying with
them. Anthony had described and dreaded the arrival of Cousin Gertrude with
horror. A spinster remotely connected to Elizabeth’s father’s side, she was
big, bold and here for a month. Her arrival had curtailed Anthony’s visits.
Blake stopped and hissed at the butler. “Think
I’ve changed my mind, Jenkins. I don’t want to disturb their company.”
“Quite the coward are we, Your Grace? Leave your
life-long friend alone with this Amazon from America.” Jenkins stared as he
spoke. “In any case they saw you ride up the drive.”
Jenkins spoke his mind to all including Anthony
and Elizabeth. There’d be no expecting servile behavior for him. “I’m sure you
did not miss the opportunity to point out my arrival,” Blake said.
“Of course
not, Your Grace.” The butler opened the drawing room doors with a flourish.
“The Duke of Wexford.”
“Blake,” Anthony said and jumped to pump Blake’s
hand. “I am so very happy you are here.”
Blake watched the woman sitting beside Elizabeth
stand, and walk across the room to him. She was every inch as tall as he, and
Anthony made the introductions. She held out her hand. Blake grasped it and
bent to place a kiss there and was surprised when she began to shake it,
hitting him squarely in the nose. Blake covered his face with his hand.
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