Showing posts sorted by relevance for query pocket star books. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query pocket star books. Sort by date Show all posts

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Feasted On: It Girl by Nic Tatano

- This is an ARC book - Available Formats through Amazon.com: Kindle Edition - File Size: 1622 KB | Expected Release Date: June 26, 2014 | Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers : HarperImpulse : RomCom | Obtained: NetGalley

"It Girl" by Nic Tatano

Authors' Book Description : Veronica Summer is stuck in the dream job from hell.

The spunky New York reporter is offered the network's morning anchor position, but she doesn't want it because she's a night person. Then the network plays a trump card, promising her the evening anchor chair in three years. So the fiery redhead takes the plunge, with the ultimate gig waiting down the road.

Problem is, that road is filled with two am wake-up calls and the only social life she has is one with bats and raccoons. She quickly realizes she'll never survive the grind and decides the only way out is to get fired by being her snarky self on live television.

And the ratings skyrocket.

Veronica becomes the nation's It Girl, so the network makes her a celebrity contestant on its most popular nighttime dance competition show, Dance Off. While her journalistic credibility is shot to hell by the show's skimpy costumes, she's thrown into close contact with two incredibly attractive men; her dance partner and the show's sarcastic British judge.

And she soon discovers that love is the ultimate gig.

My Book Review : 4.5 out of 5 stars!! This fast-paced romantic comedy throws you for more then one major twist and keeps you wanting for more! From Veronica's snarky attitude to her friend's southern "charms" to maneuvering through the conniving world of journalism, this novel is one that keeps pushing you through the paces and doesn't let go till the end.

I loved Veronica and her friends, especially when they talked on their lunch dates. Together they help each other through Veronica's messy "love life" and her personal/professional catastrophes in such humorous ways! I just could not get enough! Then throw in Veronica's "man candy" and how she can't decide between the two men who interest her in such "different" ways--yeah, let's go with that--made this novel hard to resist.

I will say that around the chapter where Veronica has a big journalistic break through, I found the novel to drag a little. Yet, not long after that scene happened the pace picks back up at full throttle and doesn't stop which made me happy to see! I LOVED how it ended!! Especially, I enjoyed how the guy she chooses is one that is so romantic to her; it was just a nice twist in itself to see since Veronica really needed that type of person in her life.

I highly recommend this hilarious contemporary romance!!

Purchase This Book Here :


Author's Novel Extras : It Girl - Overview | How Star Trek and The Fly are helping my work in progress | How we serialized my novel | "I'm not really this snarky, I'm just written this way." (The "meet my main character" blog hop) | It's a book birthday for "It Girl"

Book Teaser(s) :
"Before you started working this shift, what usually helped you get a really good night's sleep?"
"Sex."
He bit his tongue and smiled. "I, uh, don't think your insurance covers that."
"Sure, it'll cover Viagra for guys but when women need some help, nooooo."
He laughed, pulled a pen and prescription pad from his pocket and started writing. "I'm going to prescribe a strong sleep aid. And this one should be more effective than a boyfriend and won't get you pregnant."
"Ooooh, I like a doctor who's a smartass." ~ within Chapter 6
Thirty minutes later I was having another Sally Field moment, but with a small difference.
They like me. Sonofabitch, they really, really like me. The sarcastic, snarky, insulting me. ~ within Chapter 8

For more information on this book and/or any other books by Nic, then please check out his website.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Blog Tour - Cowboy Heaven by Cheryl Brooks | Spreading the Word & Novel Giveaways

Today I'm turning my blog over to Cheryl Brooks author of "Cowboy Heaven," which happens to be the FIRST BOOK in her Cowboy Heaven Series!!

ALSO -- Be sure to check out Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post to be able to sign up for this blog stop's GIVEAWAY!! [Blog Tour & Giveaway will from March 23 - April 6, 2015]




"Cowboy Heaven"
[Cowboy Heaven Series, Book 1] by Cheryl Brooks

Author's Book Description :
    When you find yourself in cowboy heaven...

    When lonely widow Angela McClure hires a gorgeous hitchhiking cowboy with an affair in mind, she knows they’ll have to be discreet: her old-fashioned father and the stern ranch foreman adamantly discourage any interaction between her and the ranch hands.

    Things can get hot as hell...

    Despite their attempts at secrecy, the heat between them is undeniable. To divert suspicion, Angela forms a new plan: she’ll flirt with all of the ranch hands. Suddenly Angela has a whole stable full of sexy-as-sin cowboys to play with, but only one can win her heart.

Book Series Links :

Amazon (e-Book) | Amazon (Paperback) | Barnes and Noble (Paperback & e-Book) | Alibris (Paperback) | Kobo (e-Book) | Books-A-Million (Paperback) | !ndigo (Paperback) | IndieBound (Paperback)

** Be sure to add it to your TBR pile on Goodreads! **



About the Author :

Cheryl Brooks is a former critical care nurse turned romance writer. Her Cat Star Chronicles series includes "Slave," "Warrior," "Rogue," "Outcast," "Fugitive," "Hero," "Virgin," "Stud," "Wildcat," and the newest release, "Rebel." She is a member of the RWA and IRWA and lives with her husband and sons near Bloomfield, Indiana.

My Previous Review(s) for this Author : Slave | Outcast | Stud | Virgin | Wildcat | Rebel

My Previous Mention(s) of this Author's Books/Characters : End of the year 2010 Update | "Waiting On" Wednesday: Stud | Liebster Blog Award - 2013 | Best Book Couples -- Happy Valentine's Day 2013 | Teaser Tuesdays: Wildcat | The Books I'm Thankful For (so far) in 2013 | Best Book Couples -- Happy Valentine's Day 2014 | Best Book Couples -- Happy Valentine's Day 2015



Book Excerpt -- Chapter 1 :

There he was again. That same cowboy I’d seen on the drive into town, still walking, still carrying a big green duffel bag on one shoulder and a saddle slung over the other. He’d been traveling in the opposite direction and hadn’t bothered to look up as I’d passed him earlier. I’d barely glimpsed his face then, but I saw it quite clearly now. A glance over his shoulder revealed his bleak, exhausted expression. He might have been near the point of collapse, but he obviously wasn’t prepared to admit defeat.

Not yet, anyway.

I couldn’t believe no one had picked him up in the three hours since I’d last seen him. He hadn’t looked very fresh even then. I had no idea where he was headed, but in the middle of Wyoming, there wasn’t much within walking distance, no matter where you were going.

He turned toward me, sticking out a halfhearted thumb as I came closer, his face streaked with dirt and sweat and what might have been tears. A black Stetson shadowed his eyes, and his boots and jeans were dusty and worn. His sweat-soaked denim shirt clung to his chest, unbuttoned halfway to his waist, the sleeves ripped out. He probably wasn’t trying to look cool, even though he did. No, he was likely trying to get cool, in any way he possibly could. My truck was air-conditioned and comfortable, and there was plenty of room for him and his meager belongings. I could no more have left him there than I could have ignored a starving child.

As I pulled over to stop, his eyes closed and his lips moved as though uttering a prayer of thanks. His knees buckled slightly, and for a moment, I thought he truly would collapse. Instead, he took a deep breath and stood up straight. Lifting his chin, he aimed luminous blue eyes at me and flashed a dazzling smile. His silver belt buckle suggested this man was no ordinary ranch hand but a down-on-his-luck rodeo cowboy who, unless I missed my guess, was heading for Jackson Hole.

A real heartbreaker of a rodeo cowboy, too. Up close, he was even more handsome than he’d been from a distance. Long and lean with tanned, muscular arms, dimples creased his cheeks and black hair curled enticingly from the open edges of his shirt. Several days’ growth of dark beard surrounded full, sensuous lips, darkening a jaw that my fingertips ached to caress. More ebony curls peeked from beneath his hat, making me long to yank off that Stetson to discover what else it was hiding. Oh yes, there was enough gorgeous cowboy to sway a much stronger woman than I ever claimed to be. Tears stung my eyes as something in his expression reminded me of Cody.

My dear, sweet Cody… He’d been gone for two years now, but I hadn’t forgotten that look, and I doubted I ever would.

Determined to mask my roiling emotions, I searched for something amusing to say as I rolled down my window. “Lost your horse?”

My clever tongue was rewarded with another heart-stopping smile. Cody used to say funny things just to make me giggle—which wasn’t difficult since I tend to find humor in nearly any situation—but brushing up on my own repertoire of one-liners to keep this guy smiling seemed like an excellent idea.

His grin was sheepish as he tipped up the brim of his hat. “He sort of drove off without me.”

“Drove off?” I scoffed. “Somehow I doubt that. Seems like he would’ve needed help.”

My handsome cowboy gave me a grim nod. “Oh, he had help all right. My girlfriend dumped me on the highway and took off with the truck, the trailer, and the horse—all of which were actually hers, by the way. She was kind enough to leave me my saddle and my clothes, although a cell phone would’ve been nice.”

I shook my head. “Nice, yes. Helpful, no. They don’t work very well around here. Which kinda makes me mad—I mean, where would you need a phone more than if you were stranded out in the middle of nowhere?”

He glanced around at the vast expanse of sunbaked rangeland. “Is that the name of this place? Nowhere?”

“Sure is.” I couldn’t help giggling. “Want to get out of nowhere?”

“Yes, please,” he replied. “And as quickly as possible.”

“Throw your stuff in the back and hop in,” I said. “We’ll leave nowhere and go…somewhere.”

He did as I suggested, and suddenly the interior of my truck was filled with the pungent aroma of hot, sweaty, dusty—but cologned—cowboy. He’d most likely showered that morning, but it had been one helluva day. The forecast called for the upper nineties—quite a heat wave even for mid-August—and though the humidity was low, some temperatures are best avoided no matter how dry the air.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said. “I thought that sun was gonna roast me alive.”

“As hot as it gets in these parts, I never go anywhere without water, enough food for a couple of meals, and an umbrella in case I’m ever forced to hike. Want a sandwich?”

“You bet.”

I tossed a nod over my shoulder. “The cooler’s on the backseat. Help yourself. There’s plenty of water.” Although, at that point, a cold beer probably would have been his first choice.

He pulled out two bottles of water and a sandwich, downing the first bottle in three swallows.

“Better now?”

“Much.”

“Let’s see now…” I said as he unwrapped the sandwich. “A cowboy dumped in the middle of nowhere with a saddle and no horse. There’s got to be a country song in that.”

“If you mean a song about a guy bein’ picked up by a girl in a flatbed Ford, I think the Eagles already did that one.”

“I love that song,” I said wistfully. “Guess I always wanted to be that girl.”

“Well, now you are.” He took a bite of the sandwich, chewing it quickly. “How does it feel?”

“Not much different.” This wasn’t entirely true. I wasn’t in the habit of picking up gorgeous cowboys—and this particular cowboy’s presence had me feeling strangely excited. Oh yes, I was very aware of him, and if my brain hadn’t noticed him, my erogenous zones were there to remind me. “For one thing, this isn’t a flatbed Ford, and I’m not what anyone would call a girl anymore.”

He paused in mid-bite. “Why? Have you had a sex-change operation?”

“Nope,” I replied with another giggle. “You can’t call a forty-two-year-old a girl. Well, maybe you could if you happened to be eighty-two yourself, but I’m pretty sure I outgrew the girl category a long time ago—about the time that song was popular.”

Despite the fact that I never once took my eyes off the road, I was aware of his prolonged scrutiny—an assessing gaze that left delightful tingles in its wake.

“Some things improve with age.” He turned toward the window. “You don’t seem like the type to dump a guy in the middle of nowhere.”

Having heard the catch in his voice, I did my best to keep my tone light. Bursting into tears in front of a perfect stranger probably wasn’t on his bucket list. “True—unless he was really obnoxious.”

This particular cowboy would have to have been homicidal or, at the very least, abusive for me to throw him out. He was the most adorable cowboy I’d ever laid eyes on, including the one I’d married.

“I wasn’t being obnoxious.” He fairly bristled with indignation, which seemed to have won out over heartbreak. “I was asleep. I thought she was stopping for gas when I felt the truck slow down. She asked me to take a look at the tires on the trailer, said she thought one had gone flat. While I was checking the tires, she dumped my saddle and duffel bag on the side of the road and drove off. I found this tucked into the saddle.” Reaching into his shirt pocket, he handed me a torn, sweat-soaked scrap of paper.

It’s not working out. Sorry.

“Ouch,” I said with a sympathetic wince. “That’s pretty hard.”

“Yeah.” With an absent nod, he stuffed the note back into his pocket. “I don’t even know what I did wrong. Don’t guess I ever will.”

He seemed nice enough, and he certainly wasn’t ugly. Maybe his girl had breakup issues. As irresistible as he was, I couldn’t imagine breaking his heart while gazing into those eyes of his, and I didn’t even know his name.

She’d probably gone about it the best way possible—a quick, clean break before losing her nerve completely. One glance, one smile, and she’d have forgotten why their relationship wasn’t working. I wasn’t looking forward to dropping him off at the crossroad to the ranch, myself. I had a sudden, overwhelming urge to take him home and wash him, feed him, and tuck him into bed—my bed, to be precise.

I had my doubts about that part. He couldn’t have been more than thirty, and young men generally didn’t seek solace from older women—not that kind of solace, anyway. Consoling him seemed impossible, so I changed the subject.

“Where were you headed?”

“The rodeo in Jackson Hole,” he replied. “I’m a rodeo cowboy.”

“No shit,” I drawled. “I’d never have guessed that. I don’t suppose your girl left you with any money, did she? I mean, I’m not going to charge you for the ride or the lunch, but I’m not going all the way to Jackson Hole, either.”

“I didn’t figure you were.” His downcast expression suggested his hope that he’d been wrong about that. “But at the time, I didn’t really care.”

“Neither did I. I wouldn’t have left you there no matter where you were going. It was…well, let’s just say it was something I couldn’t bring myself to do.”

“Pick up lots of strays, do you?” Turning sideways, he leaned back against the door, a move that not only drew my eye, but also gave me a full-frontal view that made my breath catch in my throat. Oh yes, I’d taken in lots of strays, but none that were anywhere near as attractive.

I shook my head. “Actually picking them up usually isn’t necessary. They all seem to know where I live.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, where do you live? I mean, are we close?”

Obviously, he hoped I lived somewhere near Jackson Hole. I hated to disappoint him. “It’s about another twenty miles—most of which are not on the main highway. I’ll let you out at the turnoff, if that’s okay with you.”

His face fell, but he nodded, apparently resigned to the fact that this ride wasn’t going to be more than a brief respite. “Not much choice, is there?” He gave a fatalistic shrug. “I don’t have enough money on me to pay you to take me to Jackson Hole. I really should pay you for what you’ve already done.”

I caught myself wishing that he did have enough money—or that he would ask me to run off with him and follow the rodeo circuit, never going home at all. I would have loved to throw caution to the wind and do just that, but I had too many responsibilities. Not only did I have a ranch to run, but I also had my father and my kids to look after.

No, scratch that. Chris and Will were both in college. I had a hard time remembering that except when confronted with the sight of their empty rooms as I passed by them every day. Out on the highway I could pretend they were both there at home waiting for me—and Cody, too.

No, regardless of how much money this man might offer to pay me, I couldn’t shirk my duties and simply up and disappear. Nor would I accept his money. He obviously needed to hold on to what little he had stashed in those jeans.

“I couldn’t possibly take money from you,” I protested. “I wouldn’t be much of a Good Samaritan if I did, would I?”

“I suppose not.”

He shrugged again and we drove on in silence. Remaining slouched against the door, he draped his left arm across the headrest and bent up one knee, stretching his legs apart enough that my eyes were continually landing on that section of blue jeans due south of that big, silver belt buckle. From time to time he shifted his hips as though my glances made him uncomfortable, and while I did try to keep my eyes on the road, every once in a while they would stray back to him—and that enticing bulge in his jeans…

“What would it take to get you to drive me all the way to Jackson Hole?” The hint of suggestion in his voice startled me almost as much as the abrupt nature of his query.

Suddenly, my mouth was as dry as a gulch. Reaching for my bottle of water, I took a sip and stole another peek at him. Those luminous eyes peered at me from beneath lids that were heavy with sensuous intent.

His lips curled into a provocative smile. “I’d be willing to bet there’s something I could do for you that would pay you back—or at least make it worth your while.”



Giveaways!! :

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Soo .... TWEET about the giveaway!! And you could WIN!! =0)

ALSO -- Be sure to follow the tour around the other blog sites!



Find Cheryl Brooks :

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Blog Tour - Made the Grade: The de Montforte Brothers Series, Book 1 by Danelle Harmon | Guest Post, Review, & Giveaway

Today I'm turning my blog over to Danelle Harmon, who is talking about the top things that make a great historical romance hero!

ALSO -- Be sure to comment on this post to be able to sign up for this tour's GIVEAWAYs (listed below)!! [Blog Tour will run from July 23 - August 3, 2012]



What are the top 5 things that make a great historical romance hero and why? :

First off, I'd like to take the time to thank you, Jess, for hosting me on your blog today!

You ask a wonderful and thought provoking question, and one that I'm happy to answer. In real life, true heroes can seem to be few and far between, and often "too good to be true." We all know of the drop-dead-handsome guy who is as unfaithful as the day is long, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. We all know of the recklessly courageous man whose constant need for an adrenalin rush makes him unavailable and undependable. We all know of the sweet guy who is as kind as the day is long, but lacks courage and allows the world to walk all over him. Perfection (so to speak) is seldom found in the real world, and mature people will take the good with the bad (as we hope our own "heroes" do with us!), but we don't have to settle for compromises in a romance novel. Oh, no! There, the elements that make a true hero combine into one perfect, wonderful, fantastic, (and usually impossible to find in real life) man!

I could write forever on the qualities that make a great historical romance hero, and for each reader, they may vary, but if I were to pick five, they would be:

  1. Courage. A man without courage has no business as the hero in a romance novel. Period. It takes courage to stand up to wrongs, it takes courage to save a heroine trapped on the edge of a high cliff, it takes courage to go into battle, it takes courage to admit a deep, dark secret that might mean the end of a treasured and precious relationship. All four of my de Montforte heroes face these and other challenges throughout the course of the series, and all of them are wildly imbued with courage, but a good example of it is shown by Lord Gareth de Montforte of "THE WILD ONE," the first book in the series. Down and out on his luck, and determined to show the world that he has grown up and can, indeed, be the husband and father his young wife believes he can be, he voluntarily subjects himself to a dangerous situation where he's pitted against a man much his superior in strength, size and experience -- a man who has been paid to kill him. Gareth has the choice to either walk away with his life intact ... or to follow through, even knowing the odds are against him, in order to win a home for his beloved wife and tiny daughter -- and sense of self-respect that has long been denied him. That is courage ... and it's wildly sexy!

  2. Integrity. A person who can't or won't stand up for his own convictions, and/or what he knows is right, is no hero in my book. It takes a certain amount of courage and self-confidence to stay true to one's ideals, and the best romance heroes are those who don't falter or waiver from their beliefs, no matter what the cost. This quality is aptly demonstrated by my hero, Lord Charles de Montforte in "THE BELOVED ONE," whose unreasonably high expectations of himself cause him incredible pain and nearly destroy him. But he never waivers from what he knows to be right, no matter what his own desires or the cost to his own personal happiness, and that is wildly attractive in any hero!

  3. Intelligence. A smart guy is a sexy guy; just look at how many nerd-types are showing up in romance novels these days! What woman in her right mind would want to spend her days with a guy who may be all brawn, but no brains? But in romance novels, we get to have both. One example of a super-intelligent (and very sexy) hero is Lord Andrew de Montforte, the hero of my book "THE DEFIANT ONE." A gifted inventor/scientist who takes refuge from the world in his laboratory after a terrible accident, Lord Andrew creates inventions that are guaranteed to change things: if not the world, then certainly his life, which is just the case when he creates an aphrodisiac that sends him and his heroine, Lady Celsiana Blake, on a hilarious journey of love and laughter. A smart guy is a sexy guy; there's no denying that!

  4. Devotion/Faithfulness to the Heroine. From presidents to sports figures, the news is depressingly full of rich, handsome, extremely powerful men whose downfalls come about because they just can't be faithful to one woman. Do we really need to find these guys in a romance novel? This one doesn't need any explanation! After all, what woman doesn't fantasize about being the sole and abiding craving of one of the richest, most powerful and handsome men in the land? A duke, no less? A man who has eyes for her, and for her alone? Eva de la Mouriere encounters just such a man in Lucien de Montforte, the mighty Duke of Blackheath, in "THE WICKED ONE." Even when tragedy strikes and Eva is told she will never be able to give her husband the heir he so desires, he isn't going anywhere. His love for his duchess is true and abiding and she is as essential to him as air and water; his adoration for her is as fixed as a star in a mariner's sky. To be the enduring fascination of such a powerful and sexy man ... does it get any better than that?

  5. Basic Goodness. Is there anything sexier than a guy who is kind to children, to animals, and to others? A man who goes out of his way, perhaps even at great personal risk to himself, to make life better for someone else? Tortured hero Damon de Wolfe, the sixth Marquess of Morninghall and naval captain who has fallen from grace, begins his hero's journey in "WICKED AT HEART" from a place of despair, apathy, and a burning need for revenge. It takes a very special heroine to awaken him to the basic goodness that is in this man's heart, and to turn that goodness into a force to be reckoned with. Damon will eventually risk his very life in an attempt to make life better for those around him who are suffering indescribable pain -- and that makes him a hero well worth meeting!

There are many "ingredients" that go into the recipe of a great romance hero, and these are just a few of them. I hope you've enjoyed reading my thoughts on this fascinating subject, and as for me, I've greatly enjoyed being here today. Thank you, Jess, and the readers of From Me To You, for hosting me. It has been a pleasure, and an honor, to be here!



About the Author :

Multi-award winning and critically acclaimed author Danelle Harmon is the author of ten books, previously published in print and distributed in many languages throughout the world. A Massachusetts native, she married her English husband while living in the United Kingdom, and both now make their home in Massachusetts with their daughter Emma and numerous animals including four dogs, an Egyptian Arabian horse, and a flock of pet chickens.



- This is an ARC book - Available Formats through Amazon.com: Paperback - Pages: 384; Kindle Edition - File Size: 916 KB | Expected Release Date: May 2012 | Publisher: Self-Published | Obtained: Goddess Fish Promotions

"The Wild One" [The de Montforte Brothers Series, Book 1] by Danelle Harmon

My Book Summary : Everyone who knows of his family knows Lord Gareth as The Wild One. He's reckless, the leader of his friends group called 'the Den of Debauchery,' popular with the ladies, and enjoys his carefree lifestyle. That is until Juliet falls into his life and turns his world upside down.

Juliet is from the colonies, the wilderness of Maine to be exact but most recently Boston. She is on her way to meet the Duke of Blackheath (her beloved's, Lord Charles, older brother) to see if he and his family (the de Montforte's) will take her and her daughter, Charlotte, in and help them out. However, on her way to meet the Duke of Blackheath her stagecoach gets robbed. Gareth, not far from robbery, becomes the hero when he attempts to stop the robbers and gets hurt during the process. During the time, that Juliet tries to help Gareth with his wound they find out about each other---that Juliet is Gareth's dead brother's fiancée, Gareth is the Duke & Charles' younger brother, and Charlotte is Gareth's niece. Gareth brings Juliet to the de Montforte home and while he's recuperating they get closer and become friends.

However, finding it hard to get over his "wild" ways, once Gareth is better, he takes out his Den members to have a bit of fun. Yet by the next morning Juliet & Gareth's lives change completely when they find out that the Duke won’t help Juliet out, so Gareth decides to step-up and help them out the only way he can think of how ... to marry Juliet!!

Will this be the best solution for them both?? Will they find that their feelings for each other are more than just friendship? Can Juliet finally settle down The Wild One??

My Book Review : 3.5 out of 5 stars! This fast-paced historical romance will show you what it's like to be the carefree third-son of a Duke who decides to finally become the man he was meant to be, yet has no idea where to begin. It's a very intriguing tale of heartache, new love, friendship, and the lengths one will go to keep those who he loves the most. I really liked the easy relationship/banter between Juliet and Gareth!! They were perfect for each other and setup a wonderful beginning to this series!! Plus, the surprise twist at the end is very shocking that I just not sure, how to take it, so it'll be interesting as to how the second book, "The Beloved One," will develop the series.

I recommend this novel and series to anyone who enjoys historical romances!

- On a side note -
I think I was a little biased with how much I liked Juliet since like her I'm from Maine too. =0)

Author's Series Extras : My first blog post! | Music to Write By

Book Teaser(s) :
"You, my dear, do not know how to have fun."
"I do, too!"
"You do not. You are as bad as Lucien. And do you know something? I think it's time someone showed you how to have fun. Namely, me. You can worry all you like about our situation tomorrow, but tonight ... tonight I'm going to make you laugh so hard that you'll forget all about how afraid of me you are."
"I am not afraid of you!"
"You are."
And with that, he pushed his chair back, stalked around the table, and in a single easy movement, swept her right out of her chair and into his arms.
"Gareth! Put me down!"
He only laughed, easily carrying her toward the bed.
"Gareth, I am a grown woman!"
"You are a grown woman who behaves in a manner far too old for her years," he countered, still striding toward the bed. "As the wife of a Den member, that just will not do." ~ within Chapter 18
For more information on this book, series, and/or any other books by Danelle, then please check out her website.



Book Excerpt :

Prologue

Newman House, 18 April, 1775

My dear brother, Lucien,

It has just gone dark and as I pen these words to you, an air of rising tension hangs above this troubled town. Tonight, several regiments — including mine, the King's Own — have been ordered by General Gage, commander in chief of our forces here in Boston, out to Concord to seize and destroy a significant store of arms and munitions that the rebels have secreted there. Due to the clandestine nature of this assignment, I have ordered my batman, Billingshurst, to withhold the posting of this letter until the morrow, when the mission will have been completed and secrecy will no longer be of concern.

Although it is my most ardent hope that no blood will be shed on either side during this endeavour, I find that my heart, in these final moments before I must leave, is restless and uneasy. It is not for myself that I am afraid, but another. As you know from my previous letters home, I have met a young woman here with whom I have become attached in a warm friendship. I suspect you do not approve of my becoming so enamoured of a storekeeper's daughter, but things are different in this place, and when a fellow is three thousand miles away from home, love makes a far more desirable companion than loneliness. My dear Miss Paige has made me happy, Lucien, and earlier tonight, she accepted my plea for her hand in marriage; I beg you to understand, and forgive, for I know that someday when you meet her, you will love her as I do.

My brother, I have but one thing to ask of you, and knowing that you will see to my wishes is the only thing that calms my troubled soul during these last few moments before we depart. If anything should happen to me — tonight, tomorrow, or at any time whilst I am here in Boston — I beg of you to find it in your heart to show charity and kindness to my angel, my Juliet, for she means the world to me. I know you will take care of her if ever I cannot. Do this for me and I shall be happy, Lucien.

I must close now, as the others are gathered downstairs in the parlour, and we are all ready to move. May God bless and keep you, my dear brother, and Gareth, Andrew, and sweet Nerissa, too.

Charles


Sometime during the last hour, it had begun to grow dark.

Lucien de Montforte turned the letter over in his hands, his gaze shuttered, his mind far away as he stared out the window over the downs that stood like sentinels against the fading twilight. A breath of pink still glowed in the western sky, but it would soon be gone. He hated this time of night, this still and lonely hour just after sunset when old ghosts were near, and distant memories welled up in the heart with the poignant nearness of yesterday, close enough to see yet always too elusive to touch.

But the letter was real. Too real.

He ran a thumb over the heavy vellum, the bold, elegant script that had been so distinctive of Charles's style — both on paper, in thought, and on the field — still looking as fresh as if it had been written yesterday, not last April. His own name was there on the front: To His Grace the Duke of Blackheath, Blackheath Castle, nr. Ravenscombe, Berkshire, England.

They were probably the last words Charles had ever written.

Carefully, he folded the letter along creases that had become fragile and well-worn. The blob of red wax with which his brother had sealed the letter came together at the edges like a wound that had never healed, and try as he might to avoid seeing them, his gaze caught the words that someone, probably Billingshurst, had written on the back....

Found on the desk of Captain Lord Charles Adair de Montforte on the 19th of April 1775, the day on which his lordship was killed in the fighting at Concord. Please deliver to addressee.

A pang went through him. Dead, gone, and all but forgotten, just like that.

The duke of Blackheath carefully laid the letter inside the drawer, which he shut and locked. He gazed once more out the window, lord of all he surveyed but unable to master his own bitter emptiness. A mile away, at the foot of the downs, he could just see the twinkling lights of Ravenscombe village, could envision its ancient church with its Norman tower and tombs of de Montforte dead. And there, inside, high on the stone wall of the chancel, was the simple bronze plaque that was all they had to tell posterity that his brother had ever even lived.

Charles, the second son.

God help them all if anything happened to him, Lucien, and the dukedom passed to the third.

No. God would not be so cruel.

He snuffed the single candle and with the darkness enclosing him, the sky still glowing beyond the window, moved from the room.


Chapter 1

Berkshire, England, 1776

The Flying White was bound for Oxford, and it was running late. Now, trying to make up time lost to a broken axle, the driver had whipped up the team, and the coach careered through the night in a cacophony of shouts, thundering hooves, and cries from the passengers who were clinging for their lives on the roof above.

Strong lanterns cut through the rainy darkness, picking out ditches, trees, and hedgerows as the vehicle hurtled through the Lambourn Downs at a pace that had Juliet Paige's heart in her throat. Because of Charlotte, her six-month-old daughter, Juliet had been lucky enough to get a seat inside the coach, but even so, her head banged against the leather squabs on the right, her shoulder against an elderly gent on her left, and her neck ached with the constant side to side movement. On the seat across from her, another young mother clung to her two frightened children, one huddled under each arm. It had been a dreadful run up from Southampton indeed, and Juliet was feeling almost as ill as she had during the long sea voyage over from Boston.

The coach hit a bump, became airborne for a split second, and landed hard, snapping her neck, throwing her violently against the man on her left, and causing the passengers clinging to the roof above to cry out in terror. Someone's trunk went flying off the coach, but the driver never slowed the galloping team.

"God help us!" murmured the young mother across from Juliet as her children cringed fearfully against her.

Juliet grasped the strap and hung her head, fighting nausea as she hugged her own child. Her lips touched the baby's downy gold curls. "Almost there," she whispered, for Charlotte's ears alone. "Almost there — to your papa's home."

Suddenly without warning, there were shouts, a horse's frightened whinny, and violent curses from the driver. Someone on the roof screamed. The coach careened madly, the inhabitants both inside and out shrieking in terror as the vehicle hurtled along on two wheels for another forty or fifty feet before finally crashing heavily down on its axles with another neck-snapping jolt, shattering a window with the impact and spilling the elderly gent to the floor. Outside, someone was sobbing in fear and pain.

And inside, the atmosphere of the coach went as still as death.

"We're being robbed!" cried the old man, getting to his knees to peer out the rain-spattered window.

Shots rang out. There was a heavy thud from above, then movement just beyond the ominous black pane. And then suddenly, without warning it imploded, showering the inside passengers in a hail of glass.

Gasping, they looked up to see a heavy pistol — and a masked face just beyond it.

"Yer money or yer life. Now!"

~~~~

It was the very devil of a night. No moon, no stars, and a light rain stinging his face as Lord Gareth Francis de Montforte sent his horse, Crusader, flying down the Wantage road at a speed approaching suicide. Stands of beech and oak shot past, there then gone. Pounding hooves splashed through puddles and echoed against the hedgerows that bracketed the road. Gareth glanced over his shoulder, saw nothing but a long empty stretch of road behind him, and shouted with glee. Another race won — Perry, Chilcot, and the rest of the Den of Debauchery would never catch him now!

Laughing, he patted Crusader's neck as the hunter pounded through the night. "Well done, good fellow! Well done —"

And pulled him up sharply at he passed Wether Down.

It took him only a moment to assess the situation.

Highwaymen. And by the looks of it, they were helping themselves to the pickings — and passengers — of the Flying White from Southampton.

The Flying White? The young gentleman reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out his watch, squinting to see its face in the darkness. Damned late for the Flying White...

He dropped the timepiece back into his pocket, steadied Crusader, and considered what to do. No gentlemen of the road, this lot, but a trio of desperate, hardened killers. The driver and guard lay on the ground beside the coach, both presumably dead. Somewhere a child was crying, and now one of the bandits, with a face that made a hatchet look kind, smashed in the windows of the coach with the butt end of his gun. Gareth reached for his pistol. The thought of quietly turning around and going back the way he'd come never occurred to him. The thought of waiting for his friends, probably a mile behind thanks to Crusader's blistering speed, didn't occur to him, either. Especially when he saw one of the bandits yank open the door of the coach and haul out a struggling young woman.

He had just the briefest glimpse of her face — scared, pale, beautiful — before one of the highwaymen shot out the lanterns of the coach and darkness fell over the entire scene. Someone screamed. Another shot rang out, silencing the frightened cry abruptly.

His face grim, the young gentleman knotted his horse's reins and removed his gloves, pulling each one carefully off by the fingertips. With a watchful eye on the highwaymen, he slipped his feet from the irons and vaulted lightly down from the thoroughbred's tall back, his glossy top boots of Spanish leather landing in chalk mud up to his ankles. The horse never moved. He doffed his fine new surtout and laid it over the saddle along with his tricorn and gloves. He tucked the lace at his wrist safely inside his sleeve to protect it from any soot or sparks his pistol might emit. Then he crept through the knee-high weeds and nettles that grew thick at the side of the road, priming and loading the pistol as he moved stealthily toward the stricken coach. He would have time to squeeze off only one shot before they were upon him, and that one shot had to count.




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