As an artist, graphic designer, and author of four historical fiction novels and one contemporary romance, English is my main working language. I also write poetry and short stories inspired by Scandinavian folklore. Historical accuracy is critical to me — the plot must work inside the facts. Lucky then, that the vast amount of research that precedes writing a historical novel is absolutely my idea of fun.
As a graphic designer, I make websites and designs for any print media but book covers are the closest to my heart. As an artist, I work mainly in watercolour, arranging exhibitions and participating in art fairs.
Though starting out with art school, I went on to study film, literature, logic, and philosophy at university. After a kaleidoscopic career, it was chronic illness that forced a plunge into creative professionalism. Being a romantic and terminal optimist with a ardent passion for science and satire, I have an irreverent urge to see the funny in most things. Perhaps then, it is no great surprise that Austen, Wilde, and Wodehouse are favourite authors.
Ars Rönnei Media is the label under which I gather words, paint, and pixels. My studio is located in Vittsjö in the south of Sweden. Here, my husband and I are fortunate that the magpies let us use their garden and we grow veg, roses, and dahlias in it.
More Books by
Maria Yrsa Rönneus
“Your mother was a whore!”
After her parents' tragic accident; the spirited, principled, and romantic Lady Marigold is plunged into a bleak existence at the hands of her vindictive aunt. Inexplicably, her aunt and uncle seem to oppose any marriage match. Is she doomed to remain her beautiful cousin's companion? And what exactly is up with her uncle's shady, overly familiar lawyer?
The attentions of the gallant Major Arthur Hastings present a ray of hope and, before long Lady Marigold is persuaded that he is the man of her dreams. But, as the major is due to leave for India, she dares not trust that his intentions are serious. It will take all of her courage and wit to challenge convention for the right to choose her own future before there can be a happy ending; fulfilling their oaths of affection.
Set in the gloomy year of 1816, this sultry drama of challenge and change, blends political satire with philosophy and romance, narrated with humour and an appreciation of the ridiculous.
Oaths of Affection is the first of the epic Regency Tales by Swedish writer Maria Yrsa Rönneus. Transporting you across the centuries into a world of love and jealousy, friendship and deceit, the Tales span the years following the horrendous battle of Waterloo against a backdrop of political tensions, societal pressure, and the opulence of the British aristocracy.
Oaths of Affection
Maria Yrsa Rönneus
The sound wriggled and burnt its way through his veins. The laughter was so genuine; so completely uninhibited an expression of sheer, heartfelt joy. Beneath the depressing sk
Book Excerpt or Article
From Oaths of Affection:
A choir of growling appetites drove them out of their shelter already at first light; but hunger was not the only thing afflicting Lady Marigold. Dread of what may await in Gower Street knotted her stomach. Hastings left a few pennies on the hearth for the fire wood that they had used, and put on his hat, wryly grinning. Had it been stampeded by starved gourmets at a Fortnum’s sale, it might have been in better condition. Lady Marigold’s bonnet had fared worse still: its cheap straw was limp like overcooked asparagus. It was beyond salvation, much like the laundry, she discovered, when they emerged from the barn. During the night, the gig had skidded to the bottom of the ditch, where it had firmly lodged in the clay. Once white sheets and unmentionables had scattered about the muddy field. Lady Marigold whimpered inwardly at the thought of her aunt’s retaliation. Huddling close together on Waymark, the warmth from their bodies could not do much to shield them from the icy morning mist. As they neared Paddington, they were chilled to the bone and surrendered to the seductive scents of spiced cider and fresh bread that leaked from the many public houses. Being recognized together would mean certain disgrace, but the workmen and tradespeople bustling about their business were unlikely to take any notice of them. They chose a relatively clean tavern, where a squirrelly woman brought them strong cider and weak tea, bread and beef stew. It was simple food, but Lady Marigold would not have traded it for all the King’s sweetmeats. Basking in the bliss of the fireplace, they lingered longer than intended, enjoying the last precious moments of each others’ company.
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