1–What is the title of your latest release? Victoria Christopher Murray: THE PERSONAL LIBRARIAN which I co-authored with Marie Benedict. Marie Benedict: THE PERSONAL LIBRARIAN, which was co-written with Victoria Christopher Murray. 2–What is it about? VCM: It is the story of Belle da Costa Greene, a woman who walked into JP Morgan’s library in 1906 when she was in her twenties, became his personal librarian, and rose to be one of the most powerful women in the art world. She helped to build Morgan’s art and rare books and manuscript collection. MB: THE PERSONAL LIBRARIAN is the remarkable story of J. P. Morgan’s personal librarian, Belle da Costa Greene, who became one of the most important people in the art world during her lifetime and left a lasting legacy that enriched our nation but could only do so by passing as white and hiding her true Black identity because of the racist, segregated society in which she lived. 3–What do you love about the setting of your book?  VCM: It’s in New York (my favorite place in the world) and so much of it takes place at the Morgan Library which is incredibly beautiful for lots of reasons. MB: The book…

Her breath caught. The duke was still sound asleep, but he had turned and now lay on his back. The arm that had curved around his head lay flung over his face, hiding it from view. A chiseled chest dusted in crisp hair rose and fell with deep, even breaths. Her dread didn’t allow her to appreciate the frontal view of him—she was only intent on escape. Muttering an oath under her breath, Sarani blew out a breath. Easy does it, she told herself. Retracing her steps with her skirts in hand, she climbed up on the bottom bar and stretched out her left leg toward the bunk rail. She made the mistake of looking down in her precarious and admittedly lewd position—she was straddling the man, for heaven’s sake—and nearly toppled over. Everywhere her eyes fell, she saw nothing but acres upon acres of masculine perfection. If his back had been delicious, his chest was a veritable feast. A slow ache took up residence in her belly and then spread like hot oil elsewhere. She might be in a hurry, but she wasn’t dead! This man did not look like he had an ounce of excess anywhere on him,…

In the first book of my Widow Rules series, A DUKE IN TIME, a war hero duke falls in love with his stepbrother’s wife. Could he legally marry her? Under the Church of England’s rules of consanguinity and affinity, a brother couldn’t marry his brother’s widow. Nor could a sister marry her sister’s widower. Yet they could marry first cousins. But what about stepbrothers and stepsisters? Do these rules apply in the blended families of yesteryears? Way back in the day of merry ol’ England, the Church of England had pretty strict rules of who could marry whom related to family. Let’s get some definitions out of the way to make this a little easier to understand. Consanguinity basically means two people are related by blood relation and that they share common ancestors. Affinity is a relationship by marriage. When people married in violation of the Church of England’s prohibition of consanguinity or affinity, the marriages were either void or voidable. If a marriage is void, it’s invalid and illegal. End of story. Any children born of such union were illegitimate. If a marriage is voidable, then it’s valid. However, it could be annulled if an interested party successfully challenged…

LONDON 1824: KENSINGTON HOUSE Never knew a moment made better standing still. Never knew an hour made perfect by silence. It’s been a long time since I’d had peace—moments of dance, hours in hymns. It disappeared when the Demerara Council forced its tax. Fidgeting, I sit in the front parlor of Kensington House switching my gaze from the sheers draping the window to the finishing school’s headmistress. Miss Smith, she’s across from me in a Chippendale chair sipping her chamomile tea. Her fingers tremble on the china handle. “Mrs. Thomas,” she says with eyes wide, bulging like an iguana’s. “Your visit is unexpected, but I’m pleased you’ve taken my offer to stay at Kensington to review our school. You’ll see it’s a worthy investment.” “I was always fond of the name Kensington.” My voice trails off as I think of walks, of choices, then my aptly named plantation. Kensington is a set of squiggled letters chiseled in a cornerstone back home. The headmistress chatters on, and I nod. The white egret feather on my bonnet jiggles and covers my brow. I bat it away like the memories I want gone, but you never get to choose what comes to mind….