From Across the Room by Gina L. Mulligan
Publication Date: September 15, 2016
Five Star Publications
Hardcover & eBook; 271 Pages
Genre: Historical/Epistolary
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Praise for From Across the Room
"A passionate love story set in a brilliantly recreated Gilded Age, this intimate epistolary novel takes the reader from a wide-open California to the salons of literary and industrial New York. Colorful and indelible characters stride across the pages of this exceptionally vivid historical novel that brings the past stirringly to life." -Diana Birchall, Bestselling Author of Mr. Darcy's Dilemma
"Gina Mulligan's impeccable prose, engaging characters, and original style reminds us all why we love to read." -Reza Kahlili, 2010 National Best Books winner for A Time to Betray
"The characters have richly defined voices and fascinating lives that sparkle against a transcontinental history of America at the beginning of the twentieth century." -Jessica Klein, Award-winning Writer/Producer of Northern Exposure, Beverly Hills 90210, Gabriel's Fire and other popular TV series.
DEAR BEAUREGARD —
My old friend, how long has it been since we opened a bottle of malt whisky and spent an entire evening searching for the melody in a Russian opera? In many ways not long enough.
Are you again trolling Saratoga for girls eager to annoy overbearing mothers? Or have you contented yourself with the companionship of the Baccarat table? My pleasure involves more than parading through town in a white cycling costume; yet, of anyone I know, you most appreciate a vacation filled with warm sunshine, gay chatter, and a radiant woman. Other than a small obstacle the size of a boulder, your apprentice is faring quite well in California. For the sole purpose of bragging, allow me to share the good parts before humbly asking for your help. And for the record, she agreed to our private outing without any begging.
My new friend, Miss Mary Harting, greeted me in the lobby at sunrise. She had an infectious grin that showed nothing of the early wake-up call. After we shook hands, I motioned for her to sit on a settee and then sat beside her.
She tilted her head. “Why are we sitting down, Thomas? I thought you said the surprise was outside. Aren’t you ready to go?”
“Actually, you’re not ready yet,” I said.
She flattened the pleats around her narrow waist, lifted the hem of her paisley skirt to examine her black boots, and gave a quick tug to each glove. “This is about as ready as I get.”
My heart began to pound. I reached across Mary to the end table beside her. She pulled away, but not too far. I felt her warm breath on my neck as I grasped the black scarf I had tucked underneath a crystal ashtray. When I sat back up, Mary plucked the scarf from my hand and held it in her open palm. “Yes, this was definitely too heavy for your pocket. You certainly are smooth.”
I should have known better than to try one of your stupid maneuvers.
She wanted to know what I had in mind for the scarf so I explained seeing where we were going would ruin the surprise. I waited for her refusal but instead of a protest, Mary placed the cloth to her eyes and turned. As I slid closer to tie the ends, my hands brushed against her soft hair and I smelled lilac perfume.
Mary took my hand, and I led her out past the gardens and beyond the far side of the hotel. When we stepped into the soft sand, she gripped my forearm.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” I said.
“Who said I’m worried I might fall? Have you forgotten about the Crown Room where you bumped into me, or the rock you didn’t see? Oh, and then there was that branch on the —”
“Okay, you have a point.”
She giggled. “I just don’t want to go down with the sinking ship.”
“Traitor.”
I led her across the beach to a narrow path lined with sea grass. As we moved farther from the water’s edge, the breeze quieted and I listened to her shallow breath. Neither of us spoke. We were silenced by anticipation.
Though her hand was firm on my arm and I brushed against her shoulders to move branches from her path, when I grasped her waist to keep her from tripping she jumped.
“There was a log,” I said.
“My mother warned me about those kinds of logs.” She grinned and told me to keep my hands on her elbows.
We continued but I was so nervous that I took her down the wrong path and we had to circle back. Then I realized I missed the trail and had to turn her around again. I was beginning to feel my plan was folly and Mary would demand we return to the hotel when I at last saw the clearing. “We’re here,” I blurted. I let go of her arm then grabbed it again and made her promise she would wait for my return before removing the handkerchief.
At least a minute passed before I returned to find Mary twirling her thumbs; a sideways smile curled the edge of the blindfold. I wanted to kiss her pastel cheeks.
“Miss Harting, breakfast is served,” I said.
In the center of the small clearing was a table draped in white gauze. Yellow rose petals were scattered on and around the table and crystal glasses sparkled in the morning light. Two servers stood beside a cart filled with silver trays and as soon as I nodded, an oboist stepped from the brush and began to play.
Enjoy and Excerpt
June 18, 1888.DEAR BEAUREGARD —
My old friend, how long has it been since we opened a bottle of malt whisky and spent an entire evening searching for the melody in a Russian opera? In many ways not long enough.
Are you again trolling Saratoga for girls eager to annoy overbearing mothers? Or have you contented yourself with the companionship of the Baccarat table? My pleasure involves more than parading through town in a white cycling costume; yet, of anyone I know, you most appreciate a vacation filled with warm sunshine, gay chatter, and a radiant woman. Other than a small obstacle the size of a boulder, your apprentice is faring quite well in California. For the sole purpose of bragging, allow me to share the good parts before humbly asking for your help. And for the record, she agreed to our private outing without any begging.
My new friend, Miss Mary Harting, greeted me in the lobby at sunrise. She had an infectious grin that showed nothing of the early wake-up call. After we shook hands, I motioned for her to sit on a settee and then sat beside her.
She tilted her head. “Why are we sitting down, Thomas? I thought you said the surprise was outside. Aren’t you ready to go?”
“Actually, you’re not ready yet,” I said.
She flattened the pleats around her narrow waist, lifted the hem of her paisley skirt to examine her black boots, and gave a quick tug to each glove. “This is about as ready as I get.”
My heart began to pound. I reached across Mary to the end table beside her. She pulled away, but not too far. I felt her warm breath on my neck as I grasped the black scarf I had tucked underneath a crystal ashtray. When I sat back up, Mary plucked the scarf from my hand and held it in her open palm. “Yes, this was definitely too heavy for your pocket. You certainly are smooth.”
I should have known better than to try one of your stupid maneuvers.
She wanted to know what I had in mind for the scarf so I explained seeing where we were going would ruin the surprise. I waited for her refusal but instead of a protest, Mary placed the cloth to her eyes and turned. As I slid closer to tie the ends, my hands brushed against her soft hair and I smelled lilac perfume.
Mary took my hand, and I led her out past the gardens and beyond the far side of the hotel. When we stepped into the soft sand, she gripped my forearm.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” I said.
“Who said I’m worried I might fall? Have you forgotten about the Crown Room where you bumped into me, or the rock you didn’t see? Oh, and then there was that branch on the —”
“Okay, you have a point.”
She giggled. “I just don’t want to go down with the sinking ship.”
“Traitor.”
I led her across the beach to a narrow path lined with sea grass. As we moved farther from the water’s edge, the breeze quieted and I listened to her shallow breath. Neither of us spoke. We were silenced by anticipation.
Though her hand was firm on my arm and I brushed against her shoulders to move branches from her path, when I grasped her waist to keep her from tripping she jumped.
“There was a log,” I said.
“My mother warned me about those kinds of logs.” She grinned and told me to keep my hands on her elbows.
We continued but I was so nervous that I took her down the wrong path and we had to circle back. Then I realized I missed the trail and had to turn her around again. I was beginning to feel my plan was folly and Mary would demand we return to the hotel when I at last saw the clearing. “We’re here,” I blurted. I let go of her arm then grabbed it again and made her promise she would wait for my return before removing the handkerchief.
At least a minute passed before I returned to find Mary twirling her thumbs; a sideways smile curled the edge of the blindfold. I wanted to kiss her pastel cheeks.
“Miss Harting, breakfast is served,” I said.
In the center of the small clearing was a table draped in white gauze. Yellow rose petals were scattered on and around the table and crystal glasses sparkled in the morning light. Two servers stood beside a cart filled with silver trays and as soon as I nodded, an oboist stepped from the brush and began to play.
About the Author
Gina L. Mulligan is a veteran freelance journalist for numerous national magazines and the author of the award-winning novel, REMEMBER THE LADIES and FROM ACROSS THE ROOM. After her own diagnosis, Gina founded Girls Love Mail, a charity that collects handwritten letters of encouragement for women with breast cancer. She was honored for her charitable work on the nationally syndicated television talk show The Steve Harvey Show, People.com, and TODAY.com.
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My Review
From Across the Room was a great introduction for me to Gina L Mulligan's talent. I enjoyed this historical. It is an unique story with it being told through letters. I thought they were beautifully written by Thomas to various people in his life, such as his love, Mary Harting.I give From Across the Room four and a half stars and recommend it. I look forward to more by this author in the future.
I received this book from the author. This review is 100% my own honest opinion.
Blog Tour Schedule
Monday, November 26 Review at Creating Herstory Excerpt at Spellbound by History Tuesday, November 27 Review at Pursuing Stacie Wednesday, November 28 Review at Jathan & Heather Thursday, November 29 Review at Tar Heel Reader Review at Svetlana's Reads and Views Friday, November 30 Review at A Holland Reads Saturday, December 1 Review & Guest Post at Clarissa Reads it All Monday, December 3 Review at Jorie Loves a Story Review at A Chick Who ReadsWednesday, December 5 Interview at Passages to the Past Thursday, December 6 Review at Peppermint Ph.D. Friday, December 7 Interview at Jorie Loves a Story Monday, December 10 Guest Post at Let Them Read Books Tuesday, December 11 Review at Passages to the Past Wednesday, December 12 Review at Laura's Interests Friday, December 14 Review at 100 Pages a Day Monday, December 17 Review & Excerpt at Locks, Hooks and Books Tuesday, December 18 Feature at Broken Teepee Wednesday, December 19 Review & Excerpt at The Book Junkie Reads Thursday, December 20 Review at Bri's Book Nook Friday, December 21 Review at The Book Mind Guest Post and Excerpt at Confessions of an Avid Reader
Giveaway
During the Blog Tour we will be giving away 3 copies of From Across the Room & Stationary! To enter, please enter via the Gleam form below. Giveaway Rules – Giveaway ends at 11:59pm EST on December 21st. You must be 18 or older to enter. – Giveaway is open to US residents only. – Only one entry per household. – All giveaway entrants agree to be honest and not cheat the systems; any suspect of fraud is decided upon by blog/site owner and the sponsor, and entrants may be disqualified at our discretion. – Winner has 48 hours to claim prize or new winner is chosen. From Across the Room
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