A Page from Clive and Henrietta’s Songbook

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Music floats throughout the upcoming novel, A Girl Like You, especially when the heroine, Henrietta Von Harmon, finds work as a taxi-dancer and then as an usherette at a burlesque theater. The 1930s heralded the sound of Big Band Swing, replacing the red-hot jazz of the roaring ’20s. Dance halls boomed, from the elegant and chic to the tired and dirty, where a dance with a pretty girl could be had for a dime. Take a listen to some to some of the early songs of the era that feature in the novel…plus a few more!

[/fusion_text][separator style_type=”none” top_margin=”” bottom_margin=”” sep_color=”” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]Click Here to Listen to Clive and Henrietta’s playlist on Spotify>>[/fusion_text][separator style_type=”none” top_margin=”” bottom_margin=”” sep_color=”” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][separator style_type=”none” top_margin=”” bottom_margin=”” sep_color=”” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][separator style_type=”none” top_margin=”” bottom_margin=”” sep_color=”” icon=”” width=”” class=”” id=””][fusion_text]

As a special bonus, here’s an excerpt, taken from the scene where Henrietta is first introduced to Clive Howard, after he pays a dime to dance with her:

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “I’m new to this, so you’ll have to inform me if I’m going about it all wrong.”
     Henrietta smiled up at him. “Oh, you’re doing just fine,” she said, giving the hand that held hers a little squeeze. It never hurt to give the new ones extra encouragement. She breathed in his smell as he held her close, and found it oddly enticing . . . crisp linen muddled pleasantly with pipe tobacco.
     “May I ask your name? Is that allowed?” he asked, attempting innocence.
     “It is allowed,” she said as he twirled her gently. The band was playing Louis Armstrong’s “You Are My Lucky Star,” one of her favorites. Tonight was going to be a good night; she could just tell. It always hinged on the first dance of the day, and this one was turning out swell. Stan’s didn’t count, of course.
     “So are you going to keep me in suspense for the whole of the dance, then?” he asked, a smile lurking behind his eyes.
     “It’s Henrietta,” she said, flashing her dimples. “Henrietta Von Harmon, but most people close to me call me Hen.”[/fusion_text]