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The author of one of our all-time favourite books, Lord of Scoundrels, Loretta Chase has kept us waiting for a new book for over five years! What a treat this is going to be! Whether you choose to savour this book or gobble it up in a one-night read, make sure you take it home this month!
Alistair Carsington really, really wishes he didn’t love women quite so much. To escape his worst impulses, he sets out for a place far from civilization: Derbyshire - in winter - where he hopes to kill two birds with one stone: avoid all temptation, and repay the friend who saved his life on the fields of Waterloo. But this noble aim drops him straight into opposition with Miss Mirabel Oldridge, a woman every bit as intelligent, obstinate, and devious as he - and maddeningly irresistible to boot.
Mirabel Oldridge already has her hands full keeping her brilliant and aggravatingly eccentric father out of trouble. The last thing she needs is a stunningly attractive, oversensitive and overbright aristocrat reminding her she has a heart, not to mention a body he claims is so unstylishly clothed that undressing her is practically a civic duty. Could the situation be any worse? And why does something that seems so wrong feel so very wonderful?
From Chapter 1:
All he saw was the girl.
She was racing up the terrace stairs, skirts bunched up to her knees, bonnet askew, and a wild mass of hair the color of sunrise dancing about her face. Even while he was taking in the hair--a whirling fireball when a gust of wind caught it - she darted across the terrace. Alistair had an unobstructed view of trim ankles and well-shaped calves before she let the hem drop to cover them. He opened the door, and she erupted into the drawing room in a whirl of rain and mud, taking no more heed of her bedraggled state than a dog would.
She smiled.
Her mouth was wide, and so the smile seemed to go on forever, and round and round, encircling him. Her eyes were blue, twilight blue, and for a moment she seemed to be the beginning and end of everything, from the sunrise halo of hair to the dusky blue of her eyes.
For that moment, Alistair didn’t know anything else, even his name, until she spoke it.
“Mr. Carsington,” she said, and her voice was clear and cool with a trace of a whisper in it.
Hair: sunrise. Eyes: dusk. Voice: night.
“I am Mirabel Oldridge,” the night-voice went on.
Mirabel. It meant wonderful. And she was truly…
Alistair caught himself in the nick of time, before his brain disintegrated. No poetry, he told himself. No castles in the air.
He was here on business and must not forget it.
He could not allow his thoughts to linger, even for an instant, upon any woman...no matter how lovely her skin or how warm her smile, like the first warmth of spring after a long, dark winter...
No poetry. He must view her as - as a piece of furniture. He must.
He must prove as well to his father, Lord Hargate that his third son was not an idle, useless fop of a parasite.
Have you read Lord of Scoundrels? It is a book we review regularly – quite simply one of those books that every romance reader should have on their shelf – whether you are a fan of Regency romance or not! It is that good! |
| Book Format: Paperback |
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