About
the book
Title:
Emmy Nation: Undercover Suffragette
Author:
L. Davis Munro
Genre:
Historical Fiction
Being an independent woman in 1913
London is certainly empowering, but Emmy Nation is tired of the
inescapable damp seeping through her worn shoes and the hopeless
grumblings of her stomach.
When she receives an offer from
Scotland Yard to boost her typist income by spying on the Women’s
Social and Political Union (WSPU), Emmy jumps at the chance. But as
she grows closer to the WSPU women the lines begin to blur, and when
a painful part of her past resurfaces Emmy begins to question her
choices.
How far are you willing to go
to secure your equality?
Author
Bio
L. Davis Munro holds
a master’s degree with a focus on women’s suffrage theatre and
works in theatre and dance. She currently lives in Toronto, Ontario,
Canada, with her husband and her dog.
Excerpt
Emmy bounces
into Cannon Row station. She rode her bicycle to work and was still
feeling the joy of the wind on her face as she pedaled. The sun was
shinning for once and she had a very important luncheon lined up for
the afternoon where she was bound to make the acquaintance of WSPU
leaders.
"Oh there
you are," twitters Gwen, "Have I got news for you."
"Gwen,
news can wait a moment," Emmy says taking off her jacket. "How
about you be a dear and get me a cup of tea?" Emmy solicits
Gwen, feeling that there is no harm in asking.
"Emmy,
you are- " Gwen starts, but cuts herself off when she sees
something over Emmy's shoulder.
"Emmy
Nation," a deep male voice booms across the room. Emmy slowly
turns around and sees the last face she ever would have expected, or
wished to see, in the entire world staring at her from the doorway of
Mr. Johnson's office.
"Surprise,"
Gwen whispers. "Mr. Clifford Marlowe, the new bachelor of the
Met."
Emmy stares
back at the man without moving, her mouth gaping and eyes unblinking.
"I was
having such a bloody good morning," she says under her breath.
He slowly
gestures her to come to the office. She walks across the room with
her eyes focused forward, not daring to meet those of anyone she
passes. As she comes near him she feels the heat of his presence
emanating from him like it always did. Emmy is close enough now to
see the grey blue colour of his eyes and although her stomach is
turning inside her, she forces herself to look right into them,
defiantly. He gestures for her to enter the office without moving out
of the doorframe. Emmy passes within inches of him and at this close
proximity he towers over her. Emmy feels his face shift downward and
his eyes trying to penetrate the top of her head.
"Have a
seat," he says coldly, and she does. He closes the door and
stalks across the office to sit behind the desk. Emmy scans the room
for Mr. Johnson, but he is not there. Suddenly, gruff, old Mr.
Johnson who never liked her and was never nice to her, seems like the
perfect boss. Anyone
would be better than this.
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