I have switched this month to one of my favorite books that is currently on sale, Only Scandal Will Do.
BLURB:
He has the woman of his dreams, but what price will he have to pay to win her heart?
Kidnapped and sold at auction in a London brothel, Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam squelches an undeniable attraction to the masked stranger who purchased her, pits her wits against him, and escapes him and the scandal that would ruin her life.
Unable to resist temptation in a London brothel, Duncan Ferrers, Marquess of Dalbury, purchases a fiery beauty. She claims she’s a lady, but how can she be? No lady of his acquaintance in polite society is anything like her. Then he discovers she is who she says, and that this latest romp has compromised her reputation. He knows how that is. One more scandal and he’ll be cast out of London society, but he needs a wife who’ll provide an heir to carry on his illustrious family’s name. He seeks out Katarina, intending only to scotch the scandal, but instead finds his heart ensnared. He’s betting their future he’ll capture her heart, but does he have what it takes to win the wager?
Content warning: A blade-wielding heroine who crosses swords with a master of sensuality.
I with started a scene about a third of the way through the book. Lady Katarina has been kidnapped, sold at auction in a brothel to a masked man, has escaped with her virtue, and has now come face to face with the man, who now wants to marry her. She’s refused and now her brother wants to duel with the man, to the death. Kat, who is a wicked swordswoman, has other ideas: let her fight for her own honor and the possibility of not having to marry the man she loathes. They have now agreed to fight to “first blood.” The first one to draw blood wins the match.
In this week’s snippet we are now at the end of the duel and Duncan has disarmed Kat and asks if she yields the match to him.
We are still in Duncan’s POV.
The snippet has been slightly altered to accommodate the WWW format.
SNIPPET:
He turned his head and sought the delicate flesh at the nape of her neck, the one place on her not protected.
She went still, sucked in a breath and held it, as he worked at the tender spot open mouthed. With the tip of his tongue, he massaged the warm skin of her neck, salty from her exertions against him; a low moan, akin to the one she had given him in the garden two nights ago, escaped her before a shiver chased down her body. Then he nipped the skin, breaking it, drawing the precious drop that claimed her as his. She gasped, and he whispered again in her ear, “You did not stipulate, Lady Katarina, that the blood must be drawn with the sword–I therefore claim victory in the duel. Will you honor the forfeit?”
“Of course I will hold to my word,” came the answer, her voice low and breathless.
He turned her toward him then, until he stared down into the depths of her frank blue eyes. Cupping her face, he gently rubbed her stubborn jaw with his thumbs. “Then will you name our wedding day, my lady?”
I thought I’d take this week to highlight my House of Pleasure series, which is actually coming to an end this fall. The final book will be released in late October/early November. So I thought I’d show off the first four books, one each day of this week, and then give a little preview of the final one on Friday.
Today is Book 5, the upcoming Only Pleasure Will Do.
Since this book is still a work in progress, I do not have a cover for it yet, however, I can give you a small preview of the heroine’s face (as I’ve already selected my cover model). Meet the face of Amorina Vestry, the unlikely heroine of the final book of the series.
Amorina Vestry, Madam of he House of Pleasure
This story had its seeds in the first book of the series, Only Scandal Will Do, in a chapter that was actually cut from the final version. In this chapter, Bow Street Runner Reginald Matthews goes to the House of Pleasure to interrogate Madam Vestry about Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam’s kidnapping. While there, Amorina gives up little information, but attempts to seduce the inspector instead. My editor at the time thought the interaction not necessary to the plot of Only Scandal Will Do, and so I cut it and re-wrote a bit of it to indicate that Matthews had gone to the House of Pleasure, but didn’t show the scene. However, I loved the chemistry between him and Amorina so much that I decided right then I needed to write their story as well. That was in 2011, so eight years later, they are finally getting their romance.
Amorina Vestry, the heroine of Only Pleasure Will Do, has been the madam of a brothel since the age of seventeen, through horrible circumstances stemming from her father’s death. She’s shrewd, brave, and more than a little resourceful. Her downfall is her capacity to love the few people who she deems most precious in her life.
My hero, Sir Reginald Matthews, is a newly minted magistrate at Bow Street who is quite a stickler for the rules, but is willing to bend them in a good cause. He’s a brave, intelligent man, who possesses a will of iron but a compassionate heart.
Here’s the (un-edited) blurb and excerpt from the first meeting of the hero and heroine, from Only Pleasure Will Do.
Blurb:
For Amiee Forrester life has been anything but kind. At age sixteen, her father’s death put her under the guardianship of an unscrupulous man who took her innocence and set her up to run London’s most notorious brothel, The House of Pleasure, as Madam Amorina Vestry. Despite the harshness of her circumstances, Amiee has cherished the hope of leaving the House of Pleasure and pursuing a future that might include marriage to a decent man…a man such as Reginald Matthews of Bow Street for whom she has passionate feelings. However, just as she thinks she may be free of the brothel, an old nemesis appears, threatening the one person for whom Amorina would do anything–even commit murder.
Sir Reginald Matthews, newly made Magistrate at Bow Street, has taken on the request of the girls at the House of Pleasure to locate Amorina Vestry, who has been missing for more than a week. He traces her to a country property, although when he attempts to rescue her, he himself is captured. Locked in the dark together, Reginald and Amorina discover a passion neither expected. But with time running out before the machinations of their assailant can wreak havoc on innocent lives, can they save those they hold dear without paying the ultimate sacrifice?
Excerpt:
She opened the door wider, revealing her petite form clad in a bright scarlet silk dressing gown that slipped down to reveal one delicate white shoulder. “I am AmorinaVestry, Mr. Matthews.” She frowned, squinting against the light. “Whatever are you doing here at this hour of the day?” The madam’s insinuation was clear, but he ignored it.
“You know who I am?”
“But of course I do. I make it my business to know all of my patrons—to some degree.”
Reginald gritted his teeth. “I have never patronized your establishment, madam.”
She stared at him, a flash of hunger in her eyes as she took him in from top to bottom. “Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, then.” The hunger disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Suffice it to say, I do know who you are, Mr. Matthews. How may I help you?”
“I have a garment, a black cloak that was found near here several weeks ago,” he gestured to the folded material clasped beneath his arm, “but has only now surfaced from the night watch. I am trying to ascertain its owner, Madame Vestry. May I come in?” A bare flicker of interest—or alarm—crossed her face at the mention of a black cloak, and his lips curled into a smile. His instinct to try the House of Pleasure first this morning had been exactly right.
“Of course, Mr. Matthews. I am always eager to assist the Runners with any of their investigations.” The woman’s tone was smooth, but insincere. She opened the door and led him down a dim, carpeted hallway. Reginald glanced at the artwork on the walls—Rubenesque nudes in lewd poses. Sudden heat bloomed in the pit of his stomach and he turned his gaze back to the small figure before him. She led him into a small receiving room, the décor of which was titillating to say the least. Madame Vestry gestured for him to sit on a pomegranate red satin covered sofa.
“May I see the garment?”
“Certainly.” He handed it over for her perusal, his gaze trained on her face.
Only a slight widening of the slate gray eyes gave her away, but oh yes, she recognized the cloak.
Satisfied he’d come to the right place, Reginald relaxed into the sofa.
Vestry felt the expensive cloth, then ran her hand down the front opening, almost caressing it. A good customer then, no doubt.
“Do you recognize it, Madam?” He waited patiently for her denial.
“Yes, Mr. Matthews, I believe I do.”
He tensed, suddenly very attentive to her once more. Never trust a woman to be predictable.
“I believe that cloak may belong to one of my patrons. I seem to recall him wearing it to an auction here some time ago,” she replied smoothly.
“His name, Madame Vestry?”
“Is none of your concern, Mr. Matthews.” Sharply raised eyebrows signaled offence at his question. Standing directly in front of him, Madam Vestry suddenly reminded Reginald of his nursemaid, who used to tower over him with hands on hips whenever he had done something bad. Her voice brooked no nonsense either. “I can assure you that I will deliver the garment to my patron today.”
“Alas, Madame Vestry, the garment is part of an ongoing investigation and may not leave my custody.” Reginald attempted to inject regret into his voice. “But if you would direct me to your patron’s address I would be glad to assure him that it has been found.”
“Alas, indeed, Mr. Matthews,” the woman’s tone sounded more genuinely apologetic than his own, “for my establishment is well known for its discretion. How would my reputation fare if it becomes known that I named names to a Bow Street Runner?” The now highly indignant voice matched the cold-as-ice gaze that pierced him.
“Then pray that it does not become known.” Coercion was an integral part of Reginald Matthews’ repertoire. “Because you will give me that name before I leave or I will have a magistrate sign a warrant for your arrest and shut your house down before the first customer sets foot in here tonight.”
Amorina Vestry was not a fool. Frowning at Reginald, she sniffed and said, “If I remember correctly, the cloak was worn by the Marquess of Dalbury the night of my tableau auction. I saw him with it on after the he won the bid, but I cannot tell you if he wore it out of my establishment. There were many men here that night and much excitement from the bidding.” Cool gray eyes raked Reginald’s frame approvingly, then crinkled with humor. “You must attend the next one, Mr. Matthews. I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking.” She captured his gaze as her tongue flicked out to lick her full, red lips.
The heat in Reginald’s belly exploded downward to lodge in his groin. Although a man of modest appetites, he was certainly no virgin. He’d had his share of lady-birds, discretely of course, but this woman made him feel like an untried lad of thirteen, dammit. Her skills in the bedroom were widely touted throughout London. Certain rumors about her prowess came to mind, and the ache below worsened. Shifting his weight forward, hoping for some relief, he gripped the arm of the sofa like a vise and dragged his eyes away from her unwavering stare.
Only Pleasure Will Do will release in late October/early November on all e-book retail outlets.
When I began planning this story, the song that kept running though my head was Bruno Mars’ “Just the Way You Are.” A fitting tribute to Reginald Matthews’ acceptance of Amorina, despite her “wicked” past. Enjoy!
I thought I’d take this week to highlight my House of Pleasure series, which is actually coming to an end this fall. The final book will be released in late October/early November. So I thought I’d show off the first four books, one each day of this week, and then give a little preview of the final one on Friday.
Today is Book 4: Only Seduction Will Do.
This story had its seeds in the first book of the series, Only Scandal Will Do. In that book, we find out that Lord and Lady Braeton are trying to marry off her cousin, a lady from Ireland who has Titian-red hair and no luck making a match. The Braeton’s introduce her to the Marquess of Dalbury, but he has other interests. Later in Scandal, Katarina’s brother, Jack, comments that he thinks the Braeton’s were playing matchmaker at a house party he attended, attempting to match him with Miss Forsythe. With little bit of history, is it any wonder, when I came to write Jack’s story, that I chose the woman he disliked to pair him with? 🙂
For my fourth hero of the series, I endowed Jack with an overwhelming sense of honor and duty, coupled with supreme skills with the sword and a mouth-watering physique. If anyone is going to do the right thing, it’s Jack–no matter if it kills him.
Alethea Forsythe, my heroine, is a prickly although vulnerable woman, hopelessly in love with Jack from her first meeting with him. She also has the courage, when faced with very bleak odds and the threat of devastating scandal, to take her fate into her own hands and attempt to manipulate it to gain her ultimate happiness.
But as the saying goes, “Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it.”
Here’s the blurb and an excerpt from the first meeting (in this book) of the hero and heroine, from Only Seduction Will Do.
Blurb:
“Won’t you come to bed, my lord?”
In a vulnerable moment, Alethea Forsythe allows herself to be seduced by a married peer. Now she is with child—and without recourse. Her reputation will soon be in tatters and she will be forced to wed a stranger—unless she takes matters into her own hands.
When Jack Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Manning, is summoned from the House of Pleasure on a matter of importance, he hardly expects to receive a marriage proposal. He’s long been aware of Alethea’s infatuation with him, but at twenty-three, taking on an expectant bride is not in his plans. Yet the desperation in the lady’s lovely eyes overrides his misgivings.
Alethea would not have believed it possible for a man to be too chivalrous. But though her new husband is perfectly amicable in public, he insists they maintain separate quarters. Desperate to possess his heart and prove herself a wife in every way, she boldly reaches out to Jack. And as their unexpected connection between silken sheets is tested by jealousy and misfortune, Jack must decide where honor ends…and true passion begins . .
Excerpt:
“Won’t you please have seat, Lord Manning?” Miss Forsythe indicated the chair nearest the fire. She seated herself opposite him. Perched seemed a better word, on the edge of the brown leather chair. “I do thank you so much for attending me at such an inconvenient time.”
“No inconvenience in the least, Miss Forsythe,” Jack said waving a hand of dismissal. He settled back into the chair. “How may I be of service to you?”
She gripped her lace-edged handkerchief in one hand, the other clenched on the chair’s arm. Raising her chin, her deep blue eyes boring into his, she swallowed hard. “Would you marry me, Lord Manning?”
The outrageousness of the question itself warred with the astounding fact that a woman had the boldness to ask it. He’d certainly been right about Miss Forsythe’s distinctly non-ladylike manner.
As he paused, stunned quite speechless, her face had turned red, a flush that started at her ample breasts and continued to her bright red hairline. She bit her lips, then took a deep breath. “I know this is an exceptional request, my lord, and”—she stared at her lap, her hands shaking—“most forward for a woman to even ask it.” She glanced up at him, her eyes suddenly pleading. “However, my circumstances dictate desperate measures be taken.”
Cautiously, Jack eased forward in his chair. He’d recovered from the broadside hit she’d scored, but didn’t want to give the woman cause for hope. “I am not unaware of the honor you do me, Miss Forsythe, to think I might be able to aid you in your plight. But are things so very extreme? Can the circumstances be remedied only by your marriage to me? Or is there some other, less drastic avenue that may be undertaken to resolve it?”
She let out her breath with a forceful whoosh and her color subsided somewhat.
He was not unaware of the great deal of courage it had taken for the woman to propose to him. His estimation of Miss Forsythe rose, even as he cringed from the idea of marrying her. Not that she wasn’t comely. Rather the reverse. If only she didn’t remind him so much of his sister.
“I fear the only remedy is marriage, my lord, although I will confess it was my choice to ask you.” She looked at him frankly, as though a Rubicon had been crossed.
“I am flattered, Miss Forsythe.” Not really so much flattered as feeling trapped. Still, he had his engagement to Miss Carlton to stand between him and the woman before him. Lord, two damsels in distress in one evening was entirely too much. He should simply put an end to this interview by informing the woman of his betrothal.
Still, something held him back.
Intrigued by Miss Forsythe’s obvious distress, his inner knight sought to rescue this damsel as well. “Can you tell me the circumstances whereby you must marry?”
A deep blush returned to her cheeks, and she pressed the handkerchief there. “I fear I cannot reveal the reason, my lord, unless you agree to accept my proposal.”
“And I cannot accept it without further information, Miss Forsythe. You must see that,” Jack snapped. Did she take him for a fool to jump at her offer without a word of explanation?
“I understand that, my lord.” Her tone had hardened, as had her eyes. They glittered in the firelight like a pair of faceted sapphires. “However, I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“And you believe I would be indiscreet should you place your confidence in me, Miss Forsythe?” The temerity of the chit. Jack shot to his feet. “This alone makes it obvious we would not suit as a couple. Trust, I gather, is one of the most basic foundations of marriage. One that we do not seem to possess between us. I will wish you a good evening.” A curt bow and he headed for the door. Time wasted save for Braeton’s excellent whiskey.
During the time I was writing Only Seduction Will Do, another Taylor Swift kept making me thing of Alethea’s longing for Jack. I think “Teardrops on My Guitar” speaks for every woman who has loved a man who did not love her in return. Enjoy!
I thought I’d take this week to highlight my House of Pleasure series, which is actually coming to an end this fall. The final book will be released in late October/early November. So I thought I’d show off the first four books, one each day of this week, and then give a little preview of the final one on Friday.
Today is Book 3: Only A Mistress Will Do.
This story was inspired again, by a Mary Balogh book, A Precious Jewel, in which a gently bred lady, through unfortunate circumstances, had to resort to working in a brothel. The story mentioned only in passing how horrible her first time in bed with a man had been, which got me to thinking: what would such a first time be like for a lady who had no other choice but to sell her body? And since I had the perfect place for such a thing to happen–The House of Pleasure–I immediately set out to weave a story around this idea.
My heroine, Violet Carlton, is a spunky, resilient, pragmatic woman whose luck and funds have run completely out. So she turns to the only path left to her at the House of Pleasure. The dashing hero, Tristan, Lord Trevor, was introduced in Only Scandal Will Do as one of the Marquess of Dalbury’s close friends. He was a second at Duncan’s duel with Katarina, an office he had performed before. Tris, a good patron of The House of Pleasure, is sent by the madam to be Violet Carlton’s first customer, with rather surprising results.
Here’s the blurb and an excerpt from the first meeting of the hero and heroine, from Only A Mistress Will Do.
Blurb:
The man of her dreams . . . belongs to another woman.
Destitute and without friends, Violet Carlton is forced to seek employment at the House of Pleasure in London. She steels herself for her first customer and is shocked when the man rescues her instead of ravishing her. A grateful Violet cannot help but admire the handsome Viscount Trevor. But she must curb her desire for the dashing nobleman she can never have because he is already betrothed to another . . .
Tristan had gone to the House of Pleasure for a last bit of fun before he became a faithful married man. But when he recognizes the woman in his bed, he becomes determined to save her instead. Now, his heart wars with his head as he falls for the vulnerable courtesan. Unable to break his betrothal without a scandal, Tris resolves to find Violet proper employment or a husband of her own. Still, his arms ache for Violet, urging him to abandon propriety and sacrifice everything to be with the woman he loves. . .
Excerpt:
Her head came up, back straight, forced smile plastered on her face as
the door opened wide and she caught a glimpse of the man who had bought
her for the night. Madame Vestry had informed her this morning that one
of her regular customers had responded favorably to her invitation—she’d
actually called it an invitation—and for Violet to make herself available
in the green room at eight o’clock tonight.
She’d not been told who he was and somehow it mattered little to her
that she did not know the name of the man about to ruin her. One of the
house rules forbade her to ask. If the gentleman offered his name, that
was his business. The other girls had told her if she needed to put a name
to the face, to think of customers as “Lord John.”
This Lord John entered the small room in a swirl of black fur and
sandalwood, the spicy scent tickling Violet’s nose, making it twitch.
She tipped her head back and looked up into the swarthy face. Dark
hair and piercing blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a long, straight nose. Too
tall, though. He was too tall for her. The ridiculousness of the irrational
thought broke through her lethargy. She forced herself up out of the chair
as he strode toward her.
The smile curling his full lips would have been charming had not the
gleam in his eyes betrayed his lustful intent.
“Good evening, Cassandra.” His deep baritone voice sent a frisson of
dread through her. “Such a lovely name for a lovely temptress.”
“What pleasure may I give you this evening, my lord?” The words came
out flat, but by God, she’d gotten them out. Now to remain standing and
not faint. One small goal at a time. She stared at the wide expanse of blue
velvet jacket barely two inches from her face.
He ran the back of his hand along her cheek and goose flesh pimpled
her whole body. “I do hope the pleasure will be mutual, my dear.”
Violet jerked back from his caress. Her gaze, firmly fixed on the gold
buttons of his jacket, now shot to his face, expecting a leer. How could he
suggest she might enjoy being debauched?
His dark brows had puckered into a surprised frown, almost reproachful.
He lowered his hand.
Dear God. She couldn’t refuse him anything. Lord John owned her
for the night. Whatever he wanted to do to her, be it lewd touch or soft
caress, she had to submit. No matter she wanted to scream, or cry, or
pummel his chest. Curse him for being a depraved wretch who reveled
in her misfortunes.
That wasn’t fair. She returned her gaze to his chest. Despite her misery,
she couldn’t blame him for her misfortunes or her decision to come here.
He was a man bent on the usual pleasures of men, and she needed the
patronage of such men to survive. If he wanted her to be pleased, then
she would convince him of her pleasure. A leaden weight settled over her,
grounding her. She tipped back her head and smiled at him, the practiced
false smile that showed her teeth. “Then I am certain we shall both be
pleased, my lord.”
A broad grin spread across his swarthy face. “Amorina has taught you
well, little one. You will go far here, I believe.” He untied his cloak and
tossed it carelessly onto a chair.
Violet gawked at his body—perfectly proportioned shoulders, waist,
and hips, well-muscled legs—and her bravado slipped a notch. He was
gorgeous, with a face like a cherub bent on mischief and a body made
for sin. Somehow a devilishly handsome, virile man made the situation
worse. She had assumed whoever ruined her would be old, ugly, evil. Like
the deed he performed.
He touched her cheek.
She started then forced herself to remain still this time. Despite the heat
of the blazing logs, uncontrollable shivers wracked her body. Twisting the
fabric of her skirt helped.
Slowly, Lord John leaned down, bringing the scent of sandalwood to
swirl around her head. He scattered kisses along the side of her neck.
“Don’t worry, ma petite. I don’t bite, unless instructed.”
His caresses sent chills down her arms. When she turned her head
and rubbed her arms, he laughed and pulled her against him. Don’t fight.
Just submit. She made herself relax, lean on his taut body. As if given
permission, his mouth descended, tickling the sensitive flesh of neck,
making her whole body glow as though a fire had been lit within. Her
heartbeat pounded a staccato rhythm. Did he hear that? Did he feel her
getting warmer? Pressed together as they were, he must.
He slid his mouth down her throat, and cupped her derriere through
her thin lavender striped petticoat.
Her bottom tensed. More heat rushed to her face and she burrowed her
head into his chest, grateful he couldn’t see her.
A low humming vibrated the skin of her neck, and his full-throated growl
ensued. He gripped her buttocks, surprising a gasp out of her. With strong
fingers, he kneaded them before he traveled up her backside, across her
back to her waist. Lord John raised his head, his eyes bright with desire.
He moved her away from him and continued up to stroke her breasts.
Smiling all the while, Violet closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. So
that was why Madame Vestry had given strict instructions to remove her
stays beforehand.
He circled her nipples with his thumbs, making them tingle and ache.
She bit her lip to stifle a moan. He couldn’t be right, could he? She shouldn’t
enjoy being ruined.
During the time I was writing Only A Mistress Will Do, two songs seemed to speak to the story I was writing. One was Tove Lo’s “Talking Body,” which captured for me the sensuality of Violet and Tris’s relationship, and Taylor Swift’s song “Wildest Dreams,” which seemed to me to embody Violet Carlton’s longing and sentiments about Tristan. I’ve included that video below. Enjoy!
I thought I’d take this week to highlight my House of Pleasure series, which is actually coming to an end this fall. The final book will be released in late October/early November. So I thought I’d show off the first four books, one each day of this week, and then give a little preview of the final one on Friday.
Today is Book 2 is Only Marriage Will Do.
This story dovetailed out of the first book, Only Scandal Will Do. At the end of Book 1, I had Duncan and Kat return from a trip to discover that Duncan’s sister, Juliet, had disappeared. However, the ending of that subplot was never resolved–at least, not in the published version. The original version had an epilogue that said what happened to Juliet, although it still left that story on a bit of a cliffhanger. My editor at the time thought it would be best to scale that back and save it for the second book, which is what I did.
My heroine, Juliet, is a sweet, slightly scatter-brained, lovable character with whom the hero, Captain Amiable Dawson, falls in love–after a very accidental meeting. Amiable has come to the Marquess of Dalbury’s house in search of Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam, whom he expects to marry. Instead he finds Juliet, a damsel in distress if there ever was one.
A word about the hero’s name: While writing Only Scandal Will Do, a plot twist has Katarina trying to return to Virginia after her initial encounter with the Marqeuss of Dalbury. I needed a reason for her to return, and I came up with a captain in her father’s regiment who had been in love with her, but whom she had rejected. Now she’s sailing back to accept his offer. So I needed a name for this very minor character (who doesn’t even appear in the book). I was sitting at my desk (exactly as I am now writing this post) trying to come up with a name, and the words “Amiable Dawson” sprang from I have no idea where. I’d never even heard of the word amiable being used as a name, but the character had spoken, so I had to come up with a reason for such an unusual name and that became part of a subplot in Only Marriage Will Do.
Here’s the blurb and an excerpt from the first meeting of the hero and heroine, from Only Marriage Will Do.
Blurb:
Happily-ever-afters don’t always begin at “I do.”
When the man of her dreams rescues Lady Juliet Ferrers from the villain claiming to be her husband, she is sure she has found her one true love. But is she free to marry him? Not to be deterred, Juliet arranges for her hero to escort her to her family estate in far off Northern England—hoping that along the way she can win his love—and his hand…
Captivated by Juliet’s sweetness and beauty, Captain Amiable Dawson can’t help but be spellbound by the promise of a life with her. But the spell breaks when questions arise about her marital status. Soon the upstanding Amiable is unsure if he is indeed married to Juliet. And when his rival absconds with her, Amiable must choose between the law of the land and his heart’s desire to rescue Juliet once more…
The brass lion-head knocker under Amiable Dawson’s hand sent a sharp rap through the dark walnut door of Dunham House for the second time. The hot July sun hadn’t done his temper any good as he waited on the marble stoop for entrance to the Marquess of Dalbury’s townhouse. He’d been in a foul mood ever since the news of his beloved Katarina’s marriage to the marquess had reached him. Blast it to hell, the girl had accepted his proposal. At least he could make sure she was well and well taken care of by this man she had married.
At last a short, dark-haired maid opened the door. She took one look at him, gasped, and stepped back into the house. Her eyes widened and she glanced to her right, wringing her hands. “Who may I say—”
A man shouted from within. “No, I do not believe you.”
“I do not care what you believe. I told you the truth.” A woman’s voice, raised and sharp with terror, sent a chill through Amiable.
Katarina. What in God’s name?
He barged past the stunned girl and strode down the hall toward the commotion. He burst
through the doorway, expecting to defend the woman he loved, only to stop dead at the sight of a man lunging across a sofa and grasping a woman by the wrist. Amiable had half drawn his sword before he realized the woman was not Katarina, but a complete stranger. He dropped it back into its scabbard. None of his affair after all.
The young man, foppishly dressed in a robin’s egg blue satin coat dripping too many layers of frothy lace at throat and wrists, looked at Amiable, a snarl on his lips.
Taking advantage of the distraction, the woman wrenched her arm from the man’s grip. “Praise God. He has arrived at last.” She staggered as she righted herself. “Now you will have to believe me, Philippe.”
The fop scrambled back off the sofa and groped for a black lacquer walking stick that lay on the floor. Lips pressed together, he glowered at the woman. “That remains to be seen, ma chère. In any case, I have shown you the papers. They speak for themselves.”
The woman ran from behind the sofa to Amiable’s side, grazed a kiss over his cheek, and whispered, “For God’s sake, help me. I am alone and he wants to force me to go with him. Please, agree with whatever I say.”
He smiled into her pleading face, then grasped her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze to signal his acquiescence. “Whatever is the matter, my dear?” Hell if he knew. However, he could play his part, even with little information. Let the lady lead and he’d follow as well as he could.
The woman swayed toward him, then took a deep breath. “My dear, may I present Viscount St. Cyr?” She nodded toward the fop. “Philippe, my husband, the Earl of Manning.”
Amiable froze. This woman had married Katarina’s brother? If so, he certainly had an obligation to protect her. But where the devil was Jack? He bowed to the man and said simply, “My lord.”
“Philippe and I were betrothed for a short time last year, my dear. Before the scandal put an end to it.” Trembling, she stared St. Cyr down.
“That was none of my doing, Juliet. My father broke the betrothal, not I.” He spoke English with a cultured French accent and gave an impassioned plea that wavered by the end.
“Then I must write a letter of gratitude to the Count de Mallain.” Juliet rubbed her wrist, glanced at St. Cyr, and drew closer to Amiable’s side. The afternoon sun glinted off a tear in the gold trim of her rose gown. “He saved me from making a dire mistake.”
“Juliet, how can you say such things?” St. Cyr grasped his walking stick and twisted the knob. “We are meant to be together, chérie. I thought of nothing but you the whole long year we have been apart.”
“That is hardly your concern now, my lord. The lady is my wife and however much you may regret losing her, I must ask you to refrain from such statements of affection lest it become a matter of honor.” He itched to lay his hand to his sword again but did not wish for the situation to escalate. Yet.
During the time I was writing Only Marriage Will Do, one song by Katy Perry kept running through my mind. It summed up, to me, Juliet’s instant attraction to Amiable. Enjoy!
I thought I’d take this week to highlight my House of Pleasure series, which is actually coming to an end this fall. The final book will be released in late October/early November. So I thought I’d show off the first four books, one each day of this week, and then give a little preview of the final one on Friday.
So Book 1 is Only Scandal Will Do.
This story was inspired by the works of two authors, Jo Beverley and Mary Balogh. One book I read by Mary Balogh had a gentleman using the services of a prostitute, then regretting it and helping the woman out financially. Which got me to thinking about how a gentleman might react if he mistakenly took a woman’s virginity when he thought she was a prostitute but she wasn’t. That was the germ that sprouted my plot, which ended up including a kidnapping, an auction in a brothel, and several bouts of swordplay.
My hero in Scandal is an homage to Jo Beverley’s Dark Marquess, Beowulf Malloren, Lord Rothgar–for me the most swoon-worthy of all her heroes. And my heroine in Scandal is pretty much my own wish fulfilment: I gave Kat flowing auburn hair, a quick wit, and wonderful fencing skills–all traits I admire but sadly lack. 🙂
Here’s the blurb and an excerpt from the first meeting of the hero and heroine, from Only Scandal Will Do.
Blurb:
He has the woman of his dreams, but what price will he have to pay to win her heart?
Kidnapped and sold at auction in a London brothel, Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam squelches an undeniable attraction to the masked stranger who purchased her, pits her wits against him, and escapes him and the scandal that would ruin her life.
Unable to resist temptation in a London brothel, Duncan Ferrers, Marquess of Dalbury, purchases a fiery beauty. She claims she’s a lady, but how can she be? No lady of his acquaintance in polite society is anything like her. Then he discovers she is who she says, and that this latest romp has compromised her reputation. He knows how that is. One more scandal and he’ll be cast out of London society, but he needs a wife who’ll provide an heir to carry on his illustrious family’s name. He seeks out Katarina, intending only to scotch the scandal, but instead finds his heart ensnared. He’s betting their future he’ll capture her heart, but does he have what it takes to win the wager?
Content warning: A blade-wielding heroine who crosses swords with a master of sensuality.
Excerpt:
“Who are you, sir?”
“Your master, slave.”
Harsh words cloaked in a voice of deep velvet. A shiver of dread raced down Katarina’s body, as much from the words as from his tone. She gathered her courage and replied, “I am nobody’s slave. There has been a dreadful mistake.”
“I think not, my lovely. I paid a small fortune for your ownership this evening. Make no mistake about that.” He continued to stroke her hair and she twisted her head to the side. His mouth below the half mask twitched into an insolent smile. “I am pleased, however, that you possess courage as well as beauty.” His fingers touched her cheek. “The mask hid the slave’s wealth well.”
She jerked away. “You may have paid for a slave, sir, but what you find in this room is a lady in distress. Will you prove a gentleman or a rogue?”
“A lady in distress?” He laughed and straightened. “How did a lady come to find herself on display at an auction, scandalously clad in a transparent Greek costume, in Madame Vestry’s House of Pleasure?”
“House of Pleasure?” she squeaked.
“Where else would such a thing occur?” The man’s amusement seemed to deepen at her indignation. “And there will certainly be pleasure here tonight, slave.” He ran a hand slowly down her arm, fingers trailing silkily against her bare flesh.
Mouth agape at such a liberty, she slapped the hand away and ran for the door. With a long arm, he snared the diaphanous folds of her gown. The material strained against her body. Kat froze lest it rip, exposing her completely. Cursing her own folly for choosing such a costume, she swung around to face her captor.
“Please release me, sir,” she demanded, trying to keep her temper in check. She needed to woo this man to her cause. And though it galled her, she could only do so with soft words, not blows. Perhaps the blows could come later. “I beg you to aid me in my hour of need.” She put every ounce of charm into her smile; she could cajole him, as long as he couldn’t read her mind.
“Ah, but I have needs too, slave.” His hands were in her hair again, as though he could not help himself.
Well aware from his husky tone what needs the man likely had, Kat winced. If only she could see all of his face. It was so difficult to judge the man under that golden mask. She forced herself to relax, though the thought of his hands on her raised gooseflesh everywhere. It was only her hair, after all. No great sin. Perhaps if she softened her demeanor, she could convince him of her plight. She could offer honeyed tones for a little while.
“Will you hear my story of how a lady ended up in this House of Pleasure, sir?” Even to her own ears, her innocent tone sounded false. How would it sound to–
Releasing her hair, the stranger grabbed her hand. “We both know how you will end up, my slave. Come.” He pulled her toward the fourposter and she dug her toes into the rough, worn carpeting.
Honey be damned. She had no intention of going anywhere near that bed.
“Let me tell you my story, sir. ’Tis truly enlightening.” She snapped her wrist down, freeing herself from his grasp, then turned and raced across the room, searching in vain for weapons once more. Frustration mounting, she seized the wingback chair. At least it presented a barrier of sorts. She thrust it in front of her. “Sir, you must hear me. I truly am not what you think.”
His skeptical stare was bearable. But when he pursed his lips and made a “tsk tsking” sound, he might as well have shouted the word “whore.”
“I am not!” Katarina clutched the chair’s golden upholstery to keep from launching herself at him and wrapping her fingers around his arrogant throat. “I am Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam, sister to the Earl of Manning. I was kidnapped and brought here tonight against my will.”
He cocked his head. Then his mouth twitched. “Truly? What an exciting life you must lead…Lady Katarina, was it?” He chuckled deep in his chest, and took a step toward the chair.
She glared at him. “I am Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam, you dullard.”
“And true ladies always run around London at night scandalously underdressed as Greek slaves?”
“My brother and I were on our way to a masquerade ball when I was abducted.”
“As was I, fair lady,” he bowed with an exaggerated flourish, “when I decided to come to this charming establishment instead. Perhaps if we had continued on our ways uninterrupted, we would even now be dancing together at the ball.”
That nasty laugh grated against her nerves worse than the screech of rusty nails, making her contemplate murder. If the scoundrel didn’t believe her story, killing him might be her only means of escape.
I have switched this month to one of my favorite books that is currently on sale, Only Scandal Will Do.
BLURB:
He has the woman of his dreams, but what price will he have to pay to win her heart?
Kidnapped and sold at auction in a London brothel, Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam squelches an undeniable attraction to the masked stranger who purchased her, pits her wits against him, and escapes him and the scandal that would ruin her life.
Unable to resist temptation in a London brothel, Duncan Ferrers, Marquess of Dalbury, purchases a fiery beauty. She claims she’s a lady, but how can she be? No lady of his acquaintance in polite society is anything like her. Then he discovers she is who she says, and that this latest romp has compromised her reputation. He knows how that is. One more scandal and he’ll be cast out of London society, but he needs a wife who’ll provide an heir to carry on his illustrious family’s name. He seeks out Katarina, intending only to scotch the scandal, but instead finds his heart ensnared. He’s betting their future he’ll capture her heart, but does he have what it takes to win the wager?
Content warning: A blade-wielding heroine who crosses swords with a master of sensuality.
I with started a scene about a third of the way through the book. Lady Katarina has been kidnapped, sold at auction in a brothel to a masked man, has escaped with her virtue, and has now come face to face with the man, who now wants to marry her. She’s refused and now her brother wants to duel with the man, to the death. Kat, who is a wicked swordswoman, has other ideas: let her fight for her own honor and the possibility of not having to marry the man she loathes. They have now agreed to fight to “first blood.” The first one to draw blood wins the match.
In this week’s snippet we are now at the end of the duel and Duncan has disarmed Kat and asks if she yields the match to him.
We are still in Duncan’s POV.
The snippet has been slightly altered to accommodate the WWW format.
SNIPPET:
Motionless, except for the still labored breathing, she replied, “Our agreement was to first blood, Lord Dalbury–if you do not take it, I claim the forfeit.”
Duncan closed his eyes in exasperation and said, “Very well, then, my lady.”
He continued to circle her, searching for a glimpse of skin that would allow him a small wound–it need only be one drop of blood, for Christ’s sake.
She had loosely tied one of her brother’s cravats around her neck, but it was now askew from the ferocity of the fight, baring part of her neck. He moved behind her again and she tensed, likely in apprehension, not knowing from what direction the blade would come.
Duncan tossed his rapier to Lord Trevor, and quietly stepped so close to Katarina that his breath stirred the hair at her neck; he moved his head even closer, until his mouth was poised beside her left ear.
Her breathing quickened.
“My lady,” he whispered, “you have given me little choice in this matter. I would not wound you, but I will not forfeit the match; however, your protection has also tied my hands in the matter of where to wound you, so I must take where I may find.”
Last Friday I celebrated all the June birthdays and anniversaries in my family (June is quite a celebration for us) and one of those birthdays was my father’s, Elmer Julius Jackson.
Today would have been Daddy’s 100th birthday. Well, his and his brother’s, Eldred Francis Jackson. They were born June 19, 1919, twins under the sign of Gemini. Pretty cool, right?
And another sort of cool thing was they were almost never called by their real names. Apparently just after their birth, my grandmother’s brother, Uncle Tom, who had the reputation for hanging nicknames on almost all of my grandmother’s children, re-christened them. The story goes that he looked at Daddy’s brother lying in the crib and said, “Popeye!” Then looked at Daddy and said, “Ditto!”
They became “Dit” and “Pop” forevermore.
Daddy was one of 11 children born to his parents, Bessie Moody Jackson and Charles Saunders Jackson, and lived his entire life in Petersburg, Virginia.
A great man for common sense, he was also a man who worked well with his hands. He could fix all kinds of machinery, especially boat motors. He and his father and brothers built the house I grew up in (as well as my grandfather’s and uncle’s houses that flanked ours on Columbia Road).
He loved to hunt squirrel and rabbits, although later in life he gave IT up because his job changed to a rural setting and he began feeding the rabbits and squirrels that were near his place of work. Once he started doing that, he said he lost all interest in hunting them.
He did, however, love to fish, and did so all his life while he was able. He and I and my mother would get up at 0-dark-thirty and drive two hours to put in our little boat near Deltaville, VA and fish for 4-5 hours, usually for croakers and spot. Later in life, we’d get up at the crack of dawn, drive to Yorktown, VA and take what he called a “head boat” out into the Chesapeake Bay and fish for half a day.
His love for animals extended to family pets, especially cats. We always had multiple cats when I was growing up, which is likely why I am such a cat person to this day.
Another thing he was passionate about was his garden. I can’t remember a time when there was not a huge garden down in the lot behind our house. Butter beans, squash, collard greens, onions, potatoes, snaps (green beans), and tomatoes. He was famous for his collards (I still make his recipe for Thanksgiving with the family) and his tomatoes, which he gave bags of to all his family and friends.
He served his country during WWII as an MP in the Army Air Corps, transporting prisoners all over the United States. He used to tell me stories of this, about taking soldiers (usually arrested for desertion) from one base to another on the train–Daddy loved riding trains. And when he could work the schedules right, he’d arrange to stop by Petersburg to see his parents whenever he could. He told me he was very homesick when he was in the Army, and once he was discharged, he never left home again.
My father was a great family man, who looked after his parents while they were alive (they lived beside us), and after me and my mother and all his siblings, while they lived, until he died on March 14, 2005, just shy of his 85th birthday.
Even though it’s been 14 years, I still miss him very much. I cannot help but be proud of him and his life, his integrity, compassion, and set of values that have made me the person I am in so many ways.
So Happy 100th Birthday, Daddy! I love you very, very much!
I have switched this month to one of my favorite books that is currently on sale, Only Scandal Will Do.
BLURB:
He has the woman of his dreams, but what price will he have to pay to win her heart?
Kidnapped and sold at auction in a London brothel, Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam squelches an undeniable attraction to the masked stranger who purchased her, pits her wits against him, and escapes him and the scandal that would ruin her life.
Unable to resist temptation in a London brothel, Duncan Ferrers, Marquess of Dalbury, purchases a fiery beauty. She claims she’s a lady, but how can she be? No lady of his acquaintance in polite society is anything like her. Then he discovers she is who she says, and that this latest romp has compromised her reputation. He knows how that is. One more scandal and he’ll be cast out of London society, but he needs a wife who’ll provide an heir to carry on his illustrious family’s name. He seeks out Katarina, intending only to scotch the scandal, but instead finds his heart ensnared. He’s betting their future he’ll capture her heart, but does he have what it takes to win the wager?
Content warning: A blade-wielding heroine who crosses swords with a master of sensuality.
I’m starting about a third of the way through the book. Lady Katarina has been kidnapped, sold at auction in a brothel to a masked man, has escaped with her virtue, and has now come face to face with the man, who now wants to marry her. She’s refused and now her brother wants to duel with the man, to the death. Kat, who is a wicked swordswoman, has other ideas: let her fight for her own honor and the possibility of not having to marry the man she loathes. They have now agreed to fight to “first blood.” The first one to draw blood wins the match.
I’ve skipped ahead to the beginning of the match itself. Manning is Lord Manning, Katarina’s brother. The speaker is Duncan, Marquess of Dalbury, the man Kat is facing in the duel. Although bothered by Katarina’s unorthodox manner of dressing for the duel, Duncan begins to focus on winning the duel, in order to get Kat to agree to marry him. This snippet begins well into the duel and we are still in Duncan’s POV.
The snippet has been slightly altered to accommodate the WWW format.
SNIPPET:
Katarina raised her rapier, nodded to him, and again launched herself in attack; meeting her blow for blow, he now pressed an attack of his own and she fell back a step before binding his weapon to the ground. He ducked as her blade whistled through the space his head had occupied mere seconds before and he retaliated with renewed vigor, their swords flowing like quicksilver through air that rang with the discordant sounds. Katarina’s blade danced dangerously close to Duncan’s face; the next instant her sword went spinning through the air and landed a mere foot from Tommy Redmond’s still sleeping form.
Katarina’s look of shock did not amuse Duncan in the least, for he assumed his own face bore a similar expression. The disarm had been instinctual, summoned from the long hours of grueling training with Signor Fucile last year–had he never gone to Italy, this outcome might have been very different.
He straightened, rapier still en garde; his completely vulnerable opponent recovered her composure, however, and stood with face schooled into haughty disdain. Her chest heaved as she sucked in deep breaths–fire in her eyes as she returned his stare dared him to complete his office.
Duncan moved slowly toward her and as he stepped to her side she did not deign to turn her head toward him, although she tracked him with her eyes. Manning and Matthews had advanced to the edges of the dueling space, but did not breech the barrier.
He continued to circle her until he stood directly behind her, wondering where could he wound her with minimum damage and cursing her for putting him in this position until he asked, “My lady, do you yield?”
Thank you so much to everyone who came by yesterday to celebrate the June birthdays and anniversaries. So much fun connecting with everyone and so grateful for all the warm wishes for me and my family!
So today I’m announcing the winners of the Subscribers Giveaway on yesterday’s post:
WINNERS OF THE BACK LIST BOOKS:
VENETTE SCHAFER
J SMITH
SANDY FEHR
DEBRA GUYETTE
SHADOWBLOSSOM222
WINNER OF SIGNED WIDOW SERIES BOOK
DEBBIE CLATTERBUCK
I will be contacting all winners shortly for your selections.
Thank you all for being subscribers to my newsletter and fans of my writing. Have a great weekend and please come back and visit my blog on Sunday, when I’ll have my Weekend Writing Warriors post up with a snippet from Only Scandal Will Do.
Jenna Jaxon Romance--because passion is timeless. 