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Monday Excerpts!

It’s time for Monday excerpts. I invite you to post any excerpt of 800 words or less. Please keep it PG. I encourage buy links as well.

Here is mine from Miss Featherton’s Christmas Prince, which releases on November 10th.

miss featherton's christmas prince_ebookFeatherton House, London, Late Autumn 1817, London.

Miss Margaret Elizabeth Lucinda Featherton, second daughter of Viscount Featherton, glanced down at the missive in her lap. The letters were rounded, much like a child’s would be, but the spelling and grammar were correct.

Dear Miss Featherton,

I pray this letter arrives in time to save you from making a horrible mistake. Lord Tarlington is not what you think him. I do not expect you to take my word for it. However, if you go to number Twenty-Three Basil Street in the neighborhood of Hans Crescent around seven in the morning, you will find the evidence for yourself.

A Friend

The first time she had received such a letter, the warning had concerned her last suitor, the Earl of Swindon. She shuddered at how close she had come to marrying such a monstrous man. A heaviness lodged in her chest, making it hard to breathe. What would she discover about Tarlington?

The following morning at half past six, Meg and her maid, Hendricks, sallied forth as if taking their usual early stroll in Hyde Park. However, instead of walking down Charles Street toward the Park they headed in the opposite direction to Hay Hill, then on to Bond Street and hailed a hackney.

The day was cool but sunny. A clean, crisp scent, which reminded her of newly-harvested apples, unusual for London, filled the air. Trees were showing off their brilliant autumn colors. It was altogether too pretty a day for their mission. Meg was tempted to go back and hide in her chamber as if she had never received the missive. Yet if she did, she could end up wed to a man as bad as or worse than Swindon.

Twenty minutes later, she and her maid were situated two houses down from Twenty-Three Basil Street. The town house consisted of three stories and a cellar area. Flowers in pots stood on either side of the well-maintained front door. The brass knocker gleamed as if polished regularly.

Hendricks drew back the leather shade in the hackney, keeping watch on the house as Meg pressed back against the thin, poorly cushioned squabs. She resisted the urge to pleat her skirts, which would surely draw a rebuke from her maid, and waited.

Wondering if, yet again, she had fallen in love with a fiend.

After several minutes, she shifted on the hard bench. Two women carrying baskets hurried past the coach, staring at the vehicle as they went. If Meg and Hendricks remained here much longer, they would begin attracting attention.

Frustrated with waiting, Meg blew out a puff of air. “Do you see anything yet?”

“No.” Her maid started to shake her head, then stopped. “Oh, wait. The door is opening.”

Finally. She slid to the other side of the hackney and glanced out the window. A handsome gentleman with curling dark blond hair stepped out of the town house holding an infant. Lord Tarlington smiled down at the woman standing next to him, who clutched the hand of a small child still in skirts. For a moment the smile appeared to be the same as the ones he had given Meg on numerous occasions. Then his smiled deepened and his face lit with love as he embraced the woman before kissing her and handing her the baby. As the woman’s hand rose, a glint of gold on the third finger of her left hand appeared.

Married! The cur was already wed!

Fury swept through her. The pain in her breast deepened as her heart broke into sharp shards. How could she have been so gullible to fall in love with a man who so obviously did not return her affections and was not even free to give them?

Unable to watch any longer, she slid back to the other side of the coach. Lord Tarlington might not be the ogre Swindon was, but he had lied to her and had deceived her, and, worst of all, he had pretended to love her. For that she would never forgive him.

Buy links: Amazon ~ Apple ~ Google ~ Kobo ~ B&N

Now it’s your turn to strut your stuff!!

 

 

Sunday News!

I’m back from vacation, mostly, but I’ll tell you about that in a little bit. First, lets start with the winner of Sally MacKenzie’s book, What do to with a Duke.  What To Do With A Duke finalCongratulations goes to Neva Brown!

 

Before I went on holiday, I turned in book #2 of The Worthingtons. As you know, I’m an not good with titles, although I did like Unscrambling the Marquis. My editor did not agree and suggested When a Marquis Choses a Bride. Which I have to admit is a better title than mine. Then again, he’s been thinking up titles a lot longer than I have. A few days later he sent me the line edits. Included in the package were several of these! FlatsMost of them are going to go to my assistant, because she is more easily able to send them out to people, but I’m going to give away one of them today. Leave a comment if you’d like it. And, naturally, since I have cover flats, I’ll also be receiving ARCs sometime before the book releases.

Here is a larger copy of the front cover.

Three Weeks To Wed reviseand the blurb.

In the first book of her dazzling new series, bestselling author Ella Quinn introduces the soon-to-be Earl and Countess of Worthington—lovers who have more in common than they yet know. The future promises to be far from boring…

Lady Grace Carpenter is ready to seize the day—or rather, the night—with the most compelling man she’s ever known. Marriage would mean losing guardianship of her beloved siblings, and surely no sane gentleman will take on seven children not his own. But if she can have one anonymous tryst with Mattheus, Earl of Worthington, Grace will be content to live out the rest of her life as a spinster.

Matt had almost given up hope of finding a wife who could engage his mind as well as his body. And now this sensual, intelligent woman is offering herself to him. What could be more perfect? Except that after one wanton night, the mysterious Grace refuses to have anything to do with him. Amid the distractions of the Season he must convince her, one delicious encounter at a time, that no obstacle—or family—is too much for a man who’s discovered his heart’s desire…

And an excerpt.

Dawn had still not broken when Matt awoke. Soon he would be an engaged man. He finally understood the looks of love and possession he’d seen in his friends’ faces when they glanced at their wives. That was exactly what he wanted with his lady. Later, after the sun had made an appearance, he’d discover her name and how soon they could wed. Reaching for her, his hand found nothing but a cold, empty sheet. He listened for any sign of her in the chamber, but there was nothing. Hmm, she must have gone to her room, but why? There was no one in the inn but them. Perhaps she was concerned about servants. Although none of them seemed to appear until called.

Rising, he donned his dressing gown, walked down the corridor, then opened the door to her chamber. Empty. Nothing to even indicate she’d been there.

The clock on the mantel showed five o’clock. He went back to his room and tugged the bell-pull. In a few minutes, the boots brought hot water for him to shave.

Matt waited until the water was poured into the basin. “The lady who was here last evening, is she downstairs?”

“I donno, my lord. Ain’t seen no lady,” the lad mumbled and left.

Matt finished dressing and descended the stairs. His groom, Mac, was in the common room eating. “Where are the others?”

Mac finished chewing and swallowed. “Gone, my lord. Their coach ain’t in the yard.”

Something wasn’t right. Why would she have left and not told him? “Be ready to leave in half an hour.”

He looked around for the landlord and, not finding him, entered the parlor. Covered dishes set on the table, with one place setting. He wished he was sharing the meal with her and conversing as they had the night before. Hell. He wanted to be in a warm bed with her next to him.

Mr. Brown knocked on the door before entering. “My lord, you was wishful of seeing me?”

Finally, Matt would get some answers. “Yes, I want to know the lady’s name.”

The innkeeper opened his eyes wide. “What lady, my lord?”

Matt bit the inside of his lip and tried to keep from losing his temper. “The lady that was here last night. The one I shared dinner with.”

The landlord started backing out of the parlor, shaking his head. “Weren’t no lady here, my lord.”

Matt choked back an angry response. Losing his temper would do him no good so he tried to reason with the innkeeper. “I can understand she would not want it known she was here alone and without her maid. But you may tell me who she is. I plan to marry her, and I need to know her direction.”

“I’d like to help you, my lord, but I can’t.” The man closed the door.

Matt stood so quickly his chair crashed to the floor, but by the time he got to the hall, the innkeeper had prudently taken himself off.

“You there.”

The young woman glanced at Matt wide-eyed. “Yes, sir?”

“Where is Brown?”

“Me Da had to go to the farm.”

“When will he return?”

She furrowed her brow. “No tell’n how long he’ll take.”

“Do you know the lady who was here?”

“I just got her, meself. I only work during the day and weren’t here at all yesterday.”

Matt stalked off. “Damn the man.”

He strode outside to find his curricle ready and Mac standing next to it. “Did any of the lady’s servants mention where they live?”

“No, my lord. One of the younger men said somat about a hall, but the others shut him up right quick.”

Matt clenched his fists. “Hall! Hall does me no good at all. Half the bloody houses in England are called the Hall. How the devil am I to find her?”

Mac closed one eye and stared at Matt. “You sure she weren’t married?”

He glared at his groom. “Yes, quite sure.”

Three Weeks to Wed releases on April 5th and is now on pre-order.

Amazon ~  Kensington ~ B&N ~  BAM

Stay tuned for several contests I have planned leading up to the release. Now a shameless plug for my newsletter. I’ve become much better at giving my newsletter readers the first shot at all the upcoming news, and I’ll be running some newsletter only contests.

On to boat news. When last I left you, we were heading to Mystic, CT for some sightseeing and to ride out a squall. All went well, and we were able to tour Old Mystic which is an open museum.

Mystic 2

 

 

 

 

 

Mystic Anchorage 2

 

 

 

 

 

Old telescopeOld Mystic Seaport bed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having renovated an old house in England, one of my pet peeves is door hardware. This is what one would typically find an a house before the late 1840’s. In fact, a turning door knob was invented in 1847 in the USA.

Latch 2 Old Mystic Seaport Door latch old Mystic Seaport

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From there we went to New London and Groton, where I indulged in a food memory and had a grinder. For those of you who have never lived in the CT region, it is sort of like a hoagie, but the bread is very important. It must be freshly made and not soft.

New London 1

New London 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After that, we sailed over to Block Island, RI, where I ate fried clams and steamers. Another childhood memory. We also met up with friends we’d met elsewhere during our travels and formed a nice little boat neighborhood.

BI anchorage 3

 

BI Anchorage IMG_0885 IMG_0886 IMG_0887 IMG_0888 IMG_0889

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are now in Newport, RI, where we’ll be for about a week before heading south again. Newport 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

Newport Anchorage

 

 

 

 

 

 

Newport 4

How has your summer been going? Do you have food memories from your childhood?

Ella

 

Please welcome bestselling author, Sally MacKenzie back to the blog!! Sally is here today with the first book in her new series, What to do with a Duke. She’ll also be giving away a copy to one of you who tells her you want it.

We begin with the fabulous cover!

What To Do With A Duke final

Now the back cover blurb.

Welcome to the charming, fatefully named village of Loves Bridge, where a woman destined for spinsterhood can live a life of her own choosingor fall unexpectedly, madly in love…

Miss Isabelle Catherine Hutting would rather be lounging in the library than circling the ballroom in search of a husband any day. So when Cat hears that the town’s infamous Spinster House is open for a new resident, she jumps at the chance to put all this marriage business behind her. But first she must make arrangements with her prospective landlord, Marcus, the Duke of Hart—the most handsome man she’s ever seen, and the only man who’s ever impressed her in the least…

With her wit, independent spirit, and not least of all her beauty, Marcus can’t help but be stirred by Cat. It’s terribly unfortunate he’s not looking to marry, given the centuries-old curse that left his family with the Spinster House to begin with. No duke shall live to see his heir’s birth. But is there a chance the curse could be broken—in true fairy-tale fashion—by an act of true love? The race to Happily Ever After is about to begin…

And an excerpt.

“I’ll see you to the door, Your Grace,” Miss Hutting said.

Some emotion, rather darker and more complicated than Dunly’s, stirred in his gut, turning to an intense ache in the most predictable part of his anatomy as he followed Miss Hutting and watched her hips sway.

My heart aches, too. Is this what love feels like?

Of course not. This emotion wasn’t the chaste and virtuous one lauded by poets. It was intensely, painfully carnal.

He must have an especially bad case of lust.

Miss Hutting led him to the door—and then outside and down the walk.

Hmm. What is she about?

“Do you plan to escort me all the way to the castle, then?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Of course not. I just wish to speak to you in private.” She headed for a clump of tall bushes that appeared not to have benefited from a gardener’s attention recently, if ever.

“We can converse here without being overheard or observed,” she said, and stepped through a narrow gap in the foliage.

His eyebrows almost shot off his forehead.

My, my.

If this were bold Miss Rathbone, he’d be certain his freedom—and thus his life—was in danger. But this was Miss Hutting, one of the most determined candidates for the position of Spinster House spinster.

“Are you coming?” Her voice hissed from the greenery. “Or are you going to stand there like a complete lobcock all evening?”

Such seductive words.

He should stay where he was, but his raging lust moved from his…heart to his head, sending rational thought packing.

“I’m coming.” He stepped into the small, shadowy space. “I’m here.”

There was hardly enough room for both of them—or maybe it was merely his intense awareness of Miss Hutting that made the place feel close and intimate and tempting.

He could not be tempted.

Temptation was thick in the air, in the light scent of her hair, in the curve of her cheek…of her breast.

“What did you wish to discuss?” That had come out rather harsher than he’d intended.

Shh! If you don’t keep your voice down, we’ll be discovered.”

“Yes.” And then they’d be marched lock-step to the altar.

It was a very bad sign that the thought didn’t cause him to run for the castle.

“So why did you drag me into these bushes?”

“I didn’t drag you,” she whispered. “You came of your own accord.”

No, it was the lust that agreed to this, not me.

“I needed to talk to you privately, and I couldn’t do that inside. I want to be sure you understand why I must win the Spinster House position tomorrow.”

Was Prudence correct? Had Miss Hutting been casting sheep’s-eyes at me?

“But my understanding isn’t necessary, Miss Hutting. Isabelle determined how the matter would be settled two hundred years ago. It is all to be left to chance.” She had no more control over her fate in this instance than he had ever had over his. “To luck, good or bad.”

He moved a little closer. She put a hand on his chest.

“Be careful. You’re about to step on my toes.” She frowned. “I never realized how large you are. You take up a lot of space.”

“Mmm.” He covered her hand with one of his. He expected her to jerk away, but she didn’t. “Why do you want the Spinster House so badly, Catherine?”

He hadn’t meant to use her Christian name, but it felt very good on his tongue.

Other things would feel good on his tongue, too. Her lips, her breasts, her—

She’d stiffened. Was she going to slap him? She would be wise to do so.

“Everyone calls me Cat, Your Grace.” Her voice sounded husky.

She hadn’t bothered to put on her bonnet when they’d left the vicarage. He wanted to touch her hair, to undo its pins and watch it tumble down over her shoulders. He wanted to bury his hands and face in the silky mass.

“But I will call you Catherine.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. It was almost as soft as her little brother’s. “And you must call me Marcus.”

“M-Marcus? I could never do that.”

Did she realize her other hand had also come up to rest on his chest? He covered it, too. “You just did.”

“No, I…” She shook her head as if to clear it. She must feel the same drugging heat clouding her thoughts that he did. “Why are you—”

“Shh.” He put his fingers over her lips. They were softer than her cheek. “You don’t want to be discovered, remember?”

What would happen if I put my mouth where my fingers are?

Need throbbed in him—in his cock, but also in his heart and in his mind. He shouldn’t do this. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted it. Just a taste. That was all.

If only he were an ordinary man like Theo Dunly. A man who could court a pretty girl, who could steal a kiss, who could think about marriage and dream of a future with a wife and children and perhaps someday even grandchildren.

“Didn’t you see how it is with my family? How crowded and noisy? How it’s impossible to have any privacy? I never have a moment to myself.” Catherine leaned into him, completely caught up in her need to persuade him.

She was persuading him, but not to the action she wished.

“I have too many moments to myself,” he said.

“Oh. Yes. Well, I suppose so, but your situation is vastly different, Your Grace.”

“Marcus. Please, Catherine. Marcus.”

Her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips, and he was lost.

“M-Marcus,” she said.

And then he kissed her.

 

 

 

Buy links: Kensington Books ~ Amazon ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Apple iBooks ~ Kobo ~ Google Play ~ Books-A-Million ~ Indiebound ~ Book Depository

 

About Sally.

Sally MacKenzie

Sally MacKenzie

USA Today bestselling author Sally MacKenzie writes funny, hot, Regency-set books for Kensington Zebra. Her Naked Nobility series concluded (at least for the time being) with The Naked King, which was named one of ALA Booklist’s top ten romances for 2011; now she’s hard at work on a new “Duchess of Love” series. The prequel novella, “The Duchess of Love,” is a 2013 RWA RITA® finalist in the Romance Novella category. Bedding Lord Ned, the first full-length book in the series, received a starred review from Publishers Weekly and also made Booklist’s top ten romance list of 2012. Surprising Lord Jack, the second book, received a starred review from Booklist. Loving Lord Ash will release March 2014. Her books have been translated into Czech, French, Indonesian, Japanese, Norwegian, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish, and Turkish. Sally graduated with a B.A. in English from the University of Notre Dame in the first class of women. She’s a Cornell Law School dropout, former federal regulation writer, recovering parent volunteer, mother of four grown sons (and mother-in-law to two daughters), and middle-of-the-pool Masters swimmer. A native of Washington, D. C., she still resides in suburban Maryland with her husband.

 

 

ellaquinnauthor:

While I’m on vacation, I’ll share Angelyn’s blog!

Originally posted on Angelyn's Blog:

“And now for the fascinating Adelaide; the epitome of fashion, and the best specimen I can give you of the reigning mode..”

— Letter from a Young Married Lady to her Sister in the Country

La Belle Assemblee, January, 1818

Adelaide is a featured character in the Magazine’s Cabinet of Taste. She is the niece of Lady Charlton, who has, like a kind of “Lady Bountiful,”  taken in her dead sister’s  young “town-bred” daughter.  It helps immensely that Adelaide is an heiress.

Maria advises her sister that the cornette is in fashion: "It is composed of the finest Mechlin lace and net; it is lined with soft blush-coloured satin, and fastened under the chin with a quilling of fine lace...the hair is entirely concealed, except a few ringlets that are made to sport around the face." -- print from Ackerman's Repository, May 1818Maria advises her sister that the cornette is in fashion: “It is composed of the finest Mechlin lace and net; it is lined with soft blush-coloured satin, and fastened under the chin with a quilling of fine lace…the hair is entirely concealed, except a few ringlets that are made to sport around the face.” — print from Ackerman’s Repository, May 1818

The letter-writer, Maria, describes her dashing new acquaintance in a series of letters…

View original 322 more words

Gone Sailing

Gone sailing

After a series of computer and internet problems, I’ve decided to take a short vacation. I’ll be back on August 28th when I have guest author Sally MacKenzie back on the blog.

Have a great couple of weeks!

Ella

Please welcome Elizabeth Ellen Carter to the blog!! Elizabeth is going to tell you a little about her release, Moonstone Conspiracy!  And she’ll give away a copy to one of you who tells her she likes the book!

As always, we begin with the lovely cover.

MoonstoneConspiracy

Next the blurb.

Revolution in France, rebels in England, and one woman caught in the crossfire…

For her unwitting participation in a plot to embezzle the Exchequer, Lady Abigail Houghall has spent the last two years exiled to the city of Bath. A card sharp, sometime mistress, and target of scandalous gossip by the London Beau Monde, Lady Abigail plots to escape her gilded cage as well as the prudish society that condemns her. But the times are not easy. France is in chaos. The king has been executed, and whispers of a similar revolution are stirring in England. And because of her participation in the robbery plot, the Spymaster of England is blackmailing her into passing him information about the members of London’s upper crust.

When the dashing English spy Daniel Ridgeway takes a seat at her card table and threatens to expose her for cheating, she has no choice but to do as he demands: seduce the leader of the revolutionaries and learn what she can about their plot. As she’s drawn deeper into Daniel’s dangerous world, from the seedy backstreets of London to the claustrophobic catacombs of a war-torn Paris, she realizes an even more dangerous fact. She’s falling in love with her seductive partner. And the stakes of this game might just be too high, even for her.

And an excerpt.

Daniel picked his moment carefully. He watched Sir Percy’s wife leave with another group soon after the announcement was made. And although he made no especial effort to hide, he nonetheless remained in the shadows. He pulled out a cigar and lit it on a nearby taper.

As soon as he heard the footman call for Sir Percy’s carriage, he stepped forward into the carriage and waited for Blakeney to join him.

“Send me to France, Percy,” he said as soon as the carriage jolted into motion.

“I’m not going to do that,” Blakeney replied.

“You can’t just leave Jonathan there!”

“He signed on knowing the same risks as you.”

“He has a wife and children!”

“And you seem inordinately fond of them,” Sir Percy snapped back. “You saw the list you gave me tonight. A dozen good men and women dead because of the Jacobins. I’m not prepared to risk more. Not until we know what we’re up against.”

“It could be too late!”

“You took an oath when you joined the League, Ridgeway. One to command, all to obey. Bear that in mind.”

Daniel leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees and exhaled long and sharp.

He felt Percy slap him on the back.

“Just wait a week until we know the lay of the land. I haven’t studied the documents you gave me and Parliament hasn’t even prepared a response to the National Committee’s declaration of war.”

“A week is a long time, Percy,” Daniel warned.

“So is eternity, dear chap. Don’t lose your head. As you well know, those Frenchies have a devilish way of parting you from it.”

 

Buy links: All RomanceAmazon ~ B&N ~ Google Play

 

About Elizabeth.

EECarterEllen Carter’s debut novel, Moonstone Obsession, was published in 2013 by Etopia Press. Earlier that year, the Regency adventure romance had been shortlisted in the Romance Writers of Australia Emerald Awards for Best Unpublished Manuscript. Set in England and France during the French Revolution, it was heralded as ‘edge-of-seat adventure and intrigue’ and ‘a rollercoaster of love, blackmail, ill-gotten gains, treason and trickery’ with Carter described as ‘a writer worth keeping an eye on’ with ‘a hint of classic suspense novelist Daphne du Maurier’.

Her second novel, Warrior’s Surrender, was published by Etopia the following year. Set in Northumbria in 1077, it sets the relationship between a displaced Saxon noblewoman and a Norman baron against the turbulent backdrop of England in the years following the Norman invasion of 1066. Reviewers found the novel ‘a fast moving and passionate read’ with ‘strong characters, an intriguing plot, and plenty of action… a sexy romance to be savoured’. Readers agreed, voting Warrior’s Surrender Favourite Historical Fiction in the 2015 Readers & Writers Down Under Readers Choice Awards.

Also in 2014, the short story Moonstone Promise, spinning off from Moonstone Obsession as part of Etopia’s Valentines Heat anthology, followed the fortunes of one of the supporting characters back home to 18th century Pittsburgh in a tale of ‘second chance romance’.

Warrior’s Surrender (now in print as well as eBook) was named Favourite Historical Fiction at the 2015 Readers & Writers Down Under Readers Choice Awards in March this year.

Carter moved up to 1802 for the light-hearted romantic short story Three Ships, part of the Christmas 2014 anthology A Season To Remember, and ventures briefly into contemporary romance for the first time with her Romance Writers of Australia annual Little Gems competition placegetter, The Tin Bear, publishing in August 2015.

And another Moonstone Obsession character, the sinful Lady Abigail Houghall, features in the full length novel Moonstone Conspiracy, coming from Etopia Press in 2015.

Carter is currently working on her fourth novel, set in ancient Rome and tentatively titled Dark Heart, which will bring together the elements for which she has become known in just a few years – in-depth historical detail woven through gripping adventure and captivating romance.

The author lives in Australia with her husband and two cats. A former newspaper journalist, she ran an award-winning PR agency for 12 years.

 

 

Monday Excerpts!

It’s time for Monday Excerpts! Today is a free for all. Post any excerpt of 500 words or less. Buy links are encouraged!

Here is mine from Lady Beresford’s Lover. I don’t usually post from the beginning of the book but I recently joined the Embracing Romance blog, and this excerpt dovetails in to that post.

Vivian, the widowed Countess of Beresford, sat at her desk in the morning room of the dower house in which she’d been living for the past year, plotting her escape. A beam of bright afternoon sunshine shot along the gold and blue Turkey carpet, interrupted only by the supine form of her gray cat, Gisila.

In truth, plotting was probably too strong a word, though Vivian liked how it sounded. And she did feel as if she was escaping not only the dower house but Beresford Abbey itself. In a few short days her period of mourning would end.

Her hand clenched as if she could strike her dead husband and everyone else in this hellish place. Once gone, she vowed never to return to this estate and the market town where everyone had known of her late husband’s deceit and had pitied her, but had said nothing. Not that Vivian had ever been given the opportunity to be a real wife. Soon after her marriage, Edgar, who at the time was still the heir, couldn’t stand the sight of her, in or out of the bedchamber. Mrs. Raeford had that honor, if it could be called such, absent the ring and title, of course.

Vivian should not have had such great expectations of her marriage, but while their fathers arranged the union, Edgar had been attentive and charming. Father had assured her this was a good match and a dutiful daughter would trust her papa, like the good puss she was. After all, he had said in a kind tone, Vivian was no great beauty, too blond when the fashion was for dark hair, slender to the point of skinny when men preferred voluptuous ladies, and too bookish.

Although, if someone, anyone, would have told her about her future husband’s lover, Vivian was sure she could have brought herself to refuse the match, for among her many failures was too much pride.

She waited for the familiar rage to rise, but after a year of waiting to be released from her duty to her husband, there were no more tears, and the pains in her stomach had finally ceased.

She would never again allow herself to be so naïve, or so trusting.

 

She waited for the familiar rage to rise, but after a year of waiting to be released from her duty to her husband, there were no more tears, and the pains in her stomach had finally ceased.

She would never again allow herself to be so naïve, or so trusting.

Buy links:

Kensington http://bit.ly/1Ea6UJU

Amazon http://amzn.to/1HcQ1NV

B&N http://bit.ly/1aRNi0f

Kobo http://bit.ly/1BT2OFE

Now it’s your turn to strut your stuff!!

 

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