Thank you for visiting. I'm Linda Banche, and I witty, write sweet/sensual Regency romances with nary a rake or royal in sight. Most stories contain humor, some have fantasy, and, occasionally, they might have a little paranormal or science fiction. But comedy is my love, and I've created my own wacky blend of humor and Regency with stories that can elicit reactions from a gentle smile to a belly laugh.
Like many other romance authors, I read romances for years before I wrote my own. Once I tried, I quickly discovered how difficult writing is. Did I stop? No, I'm persistent--that's French for "too stupid to quit".
I'm a two-time EPICON finalist, I live in New England and I like aerobics and ducks.
So, laugh along with me on a voyage back to the Regency era. Me and my ducks. Quack.
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For my very latest news, here's the link to my blog.
EPIC EBooks Award Finalist in Science Fiction Romance
The Romance Reviews Finalist for Best in Historical Fantasy/Paranormal
Legends are fun, but not real. Or are they?
Facts rule twenty-first century astronomer Caroline’s life. And then she steps through that gazebo’s back doorway into Regency England, where she meets a man she knows she’ll never see again. But time travel, though improbable, is a scientific fact.
In mathematician Richard’s world, there’s no such thing as time travel. Until a woman who claims she’s from the future demolishes his view of reality.
But legends certainly aren’t real. Richard can love Caroline, unconcerned by his family legend. Until the legend takes control of his life, and Caroline’s, too.
A mainstream Regency time travel romance with science fiction elements. 34,000 words. A new version of the previous work, expanded and completely rewritten.
Caroline followed her host into the kitchen.
He advanced to the banked fire.
Fire? Where were the stove and refrigerator? And all the chrome and stainless steel of the ultramodern kitchen where she had breakfasted this morning? This kitchen contained a scarred wood trestle table surrounded by several chairs. Pots and pans hung on wall racks, the shiny metal reflecting the dim firelight. A cupboard stood against the far wall, next to a sink with a pump.
With shaking hands, she set the lantern on the table. Then she pulled out one of the chairs and sagged into the seat.
She was in trouble, very deep trouble.
His back to her, her host busied himself at the fireplace. He placed the candelabrum on the mantel above the hearth and then drew aside the fire screen. Dropping onto his haunches, he pulled several logs from the nearby basket and then arranged the wood into a neat pile on the smoldering embers. Almost at once, the flames blazed to full, roaring life.
Silhouetted before the light, he straightened and then replaced the screen. He removed his hat, and, with a flick of his wrist, tossed the headgear onto the table.
Her jaw dropped. Good heavens, the aggravating man was gorgeous. Tall and lean, his broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips and long legs. But where had he found that outlandish outfit? He wore a top hat, out here in the middle of nowhere. His shirt collar was turned up and held in place with a huge white tie. And his waist-length, double-breasted jacket had tails, like an orchestra conductor’s. Muddy black boots with the tops turned down came up to his knees. Skintight trousers, or were those breeches—of all things?—emphasized every well-formed muscle.
Now, if his face matched his form...
She shook herself. What was she thinking? She hadn’t felt anything for any man in a long while. Not since...
Finally, he turned, the candle and firelight for the first time revealing his face.
She gasped. Had she seen a ghost through the gazebo’s rear entry? “Richard?”
Puzzlement spread over those chiseled features she now saw only in her memories. “How do you know my name?”
11/22/2014 GOOSED! OR A FOWL CHRISTMAS, Book 1 of The Feather Fables, is here!
BLURB: The Feather Fables—where birds twitter and chirp and usher in romance.
Ah, Christmas, what a glorious season. Decorations, friends, good will to all, a time of magic and miracles.
But not for Miss Julia Shaw. She is new to the area, her farm desperately needs upkeep, and the pittance she earns from her artwork doesn’t pay the bills. And then her pet goose escapes. Making matters worse, when she first meets the devastatingly attractive Lord Tyndall, the abominable man insults her as he returns her goose. No peace and good will for her this Christmas.
Exhausted from a year of business travel, Robert, Baron Tyndall, returns to London only to fall prey to his mother’s matchmaking attempts. Escaping to his country estate, he finds solace with the birds in his aviary. Except that a plague of a goose that belongs to his new neighbor, Miss Shaw, has somehow entered his aviary and wreaked havoc. That disagreeable lady had better keep her misbegotten bird to herself. Too bad she is so lovely. What a horrendous Christmas this season has become.
But even in the blackest depths, a spark of light can glimmer. For at this wondrous time of Christmas, miracles and magic can and do happen.
A sweet, traditional Regency romance novel with fantasy elements. 61,000 words.
EXCERPT: What was that infernal din? Catching up her shawl, Julia dashed down the stairs and then out through the front door. Winding her shawl around her, she rounded the house and almost slammed into an unfamiliar gig. The vehicle blocked her view of the goose pen, from which the honking emanated. But no one was there—her pet goose had run off. She ran around the conveyance and stopped dead. Her pet had returned! Flapping, honking and biting, the flying goose—He could fly? She had never before seen him do so—attacked a large, stylishly dressed gentleman. The man, his arms high to protect his head, flailed at the goose. His back was to her, his upended hat lay in the dirt and white feathers covered his black greatcoat. He swore. Loudly. Julia’s ears burned. “Do not hurt my goose, sir!” The man batted at the goose again and turned toward her. Julia gasped. He was the man on the road a few days ago. His dark eyes blazed, his brown hair was mussed, and his sharp cheekbones had flushed from the effort of warding off the goose. Her pulse raced. He had looked handsome at a distance. Up close, he was magnificent. Tingles raced over her skin. “This spawn of Satan is your property, madam?” He jerked his head back from the goose’s open bill as the bird dove in for a bite. “He is, sir, and you will not harm him!” She jumped between the man and the goose. The goose, breathing heavily, plopped to the ground. Eyes afire, he angled his head around her. He hissed at the man. “Gracious, what is the matter?” She stroked the goose’s head. The bird went limp, as if he had been pumped full of air and all the gas suddenly escaped. She tipped her head back to glare up at the man. Good gracious, he was tall. “He has never acted this way before. What have you done to him?” The man’s jaw dropped. “I? This feathered blackguard has tried to bite me ever since I saw him. And just now he attacked me.” He scowled at the goose. “If he is your property, you are welcome to him.”
8/14/2014 A DISTINCT FLAIR FOR WORDS, Book 3 of Love and the Library, is here!
Love and the
Library - A celebration of the beginnings of love wherein four young Regency
gentlemen meet their matches over a copy of “Pride and Prejudice” at the library.
Book 3: Felicity
should have her own Mr. Darcy—unless she prefers Mr. Bingley.
strange goes on in that library.
Not one, but two
of Mr. Frank Wynne’s friends found the ladies of their dreams at the library
over a copy of “Pride and Prejudice”. Magic? Divine providence? Hardly. Coincidence
or luck? Perhaps. And to prove or disprove the possibilities, he’ll go to the
library and read “Pride and Prejudice”. Day after day after day. To his
surprise, the book is funny, and he does like that Bingley chap. His lady
doesn’t appear, though. Of course not. But still…
White adores “Pride and Prejudice”. But while most ladies swoon over Mr. Darcy,
Mr. Bingley is the man after her own heart. Happy, good-natured, cheerful,
outgoing Mr. Bingley. She loves him so much, she even rewrote “Pride and
Prejudice” from his perspective. Now, if she can only find a gentleman like
and Frank run into each other, the enchantment of “Pride and Prejudice” and the
library just might strike again.
traditional Regency romance, but not a retelling of “Pride and Prejudice”.
I write in the
style of my favorite author, Barbara Metzger. If you like her Regency comedies,
you may enjoy mine.
“I have the
most wonderful news!” Felicity maneuvered herself and Frank to the only two
seats together. Unfortunately, they were in the middle of the semicircle, with
ladies on both sides.
Frank sat on
the edge of his seat. The chairs’ arrangement was unnervingly like a gigantic
feminine claw, ready to snap shut on a tasty treat.
Mayhap if he didn’t move, they would forget he was there. And pigs will fly.
clapped and the murmuring ladies quieted. “Felicity, please tell us your news.”
up. “You know I have written Pride and
Prejudice from Mr. Bingley’s viewpoint.” She gave a little bounce. “Mr.
Blackmore of Blackmore Publishing has requested the manuscript!”
squeals reverberated around the room. Miss Barrett rose to shake Felicity’s
hand. “Well done. Mayhap you will pave the way to the future, when others will
want to read about the further adventures of the Pride and Prejudice characters.”
one of the ladies who had squinted when he entered, squinted anew. “I doubt
anyone will want to read about Mr. Wickham’s experiences. Or Lydia’s.”
never.” Miss Nisbet, seated at Frank’s other side, sniffed. “Some people enjoy
tales about villains. I daresay they like to see the blackguards receive their
just deserts.” She leaned closer to Frank. “Have you read Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Wynne?”
Gazes on both
sides of the pincer-like arrangement of chairs closed in on him. More
perspiration broke out on his forehead. “Yes, I have.” Outnumbered. Perhaps he
had better say as little as possible.
squinted again. “You are unusual, sir. Most men do not read novels. Or at
least, they claim not to.”
He flashed his
most winning smile, the one that normally made the ladies melt. Almost-clergyman
he might be, but that did not preclude him from appreciating the fairer sex. “I
am not most men.”
11/19/2013 A GIFT FROM THE STARS, Book 1 of The Regency Star Travelers is here!
The Regency Star Travelers--Where the Regency and outer space meet with romance.
A gift from the stars can change your life.
Miss Elizabeth Ashby loves astronomy. She especially enjoys her once-in-a-lifetime chance to observe the Great Comet of 1811. However, her excitement vanishes the night an odd-looking meteor proves to be a sky craft which lands nearby. The man who emerges from the vehicle doesn’t see her, but as he reenters his craft to fly away, he drops a small red stone.
The stone from the stars glows and sends waves of warmth and something else through Elizabeth. Her incipient cold disappears, her illness-prone mother shakes off her maladies, and everyone else who comes near the stone, which Elizabeth wears as a pendant, feels in the pink of health.
Including Mr. Jonathan Markham, who also saw the strange meteor but was too far away to determine what the object was. Gored by a bull, Jon has been show to mend until he meets the enchanting Elizabeth. Does his sudden speedy recovery emanate from his fascination with the desirable lady? Or something else?
A sweet, traditional Regency romance novel with science fiction elements. 71,000 words. A clean read.
EXCERPT: Lower and lower the shooting star descended, much too slowly to Elizabeth’s way of thinking. From the angle and rate of its motion, the object would likely strike the earth close by. If she could distinguish some landmarks by its glow, perhaps she could find the stone.
She craned her neck back as the meteor soared across the firmament. The unearthly rock blazed with the colors of the rainbow from friction with the air.
Coldness pricked her spine. A meteor that enormous should race through the heavens, shrieking in outrage as its surface pounded through the atmosphere. This one was silent. And the stone—or was it a stone?—sloped down in a leisurely, graceful curve, as gently as a feather floating in a light breeze.
With eerie stillness, the object continued its glide across the ebony sky, looming ever immense as its bulk neared the ground.
She could even make out features. In her experience, meteors were dark, pitted lumps of rock or metal. This one was white, its pointed nose flaring out behind to form a stretched-out triangle, almost like a bird with unfurled wings.
And its size! Her heart in her throat, she jumped up. The thing was larger than a mail coach. And it would fall onto Sentinel Moor beside her house!
Continually slowing, the peculiar entity descended. The object slipped below the level of the high Sentinel Oak across the field, and then behind the top of the six-foot hawthorn hedge separating her garden from the meadow.
Elizabeth took a step to run around the tall shrub. Blinding whiteness exploded on the moor. She threw up her hands to shield her eyes and then tumbled to the ground.
Lightning strikes again!Pumpkinnapper finaled in the 2011 EPIC eBook Awards Competition in the Historical Romance category. After my Lady of the Stars finalled in Science Fiction Romance in the 2010 EPIC contest, I didn't expect to final again. I'm two for two now--both my entries in the EPIC contest have finalled. Thank you, EPIC. Buy Pumpkinnapper here!