As a young, penniless gentleman, Maxwell Harwick knew he had little to offer Juliet White—the most beautiful debutante of the season—except his love, and one thoroughly scandalous kiss. But when they were discovered in a compromising position, a nearly ruined Juliet fled into the arms of a rich, older lord… taking Max’s heart with her.
Now a widow, Lady Juliet Granworth intends to use the fortune she inherited from her odious husband to build a new life in London. Five years have passed, but she’s never forgotten Max… or his soul-searing kiss. Yet it’s clear the newly-minted Marquess of Thayne has not forgiven her—after all, the infuriating man can barely stand the sight of her. But Juliet has endured far too much to give up without a fight and if it’s a battle of wills he wants, it’s a battle he’ll get.
He hates her for breaking his heart. She detests him for destroying her future. But beneath all the loathing simmers an intoxicating passion that neither can ignore… and the harder they resist, the harder they will inevitably fall.
Some days Juliet wanted to fling open the nearest window sash and scream.
And it was all Max’s fault.
“Good evening, Saunders.” A familiar baritone called from the foyer and drifted in through the open parlor door. Max.
Drat it all! He was a veritable devil. Only she didn’t have to speak his name, but simply think it for him to appear. She should have known better than to allow her thoughts to roam without a leash to tug them back to heel.
“I did not realize Lord Thayne would be attending dinner this evening,” Zinnia said, her spine rigid as she perched on the edge of her cushion and darted a quick, concerned glance toward Juliet.
Marjorie looked to the open door, her brows knitted. “I did not realize it either. He said that he was attending—”
“Lord Fernwold’s,” Max supplied as he strode into the room, his dark blue coat parting to reveal a gray waistcoat and fitted blue trousers. He paused long enough to bow his dark head in greeting—at least to his mother and Zinnia. To Juliet, he offered no more than perfunctory scrutiny before heading to the sideboard where a collection of crystal decanters waited. “The guests were turned away at the door. His lordship’s mother is suffering a fever.”
Juliet felt the flesh of her eyelids pucker slightly, her lashes drawing together. It was as close as she could come to glaring at him while still leaving her countenance unmoved. The last thing she wanted was for him, or anyone, to know how much his slight bothered her.
Marjorie tutted. “Again? Agnes seemed quite hale this afternoon in the park. Suspiciously, this has happened thrice before on the evenings of her daughter-in-law’s parties. I tell you, Max, I would never do such a thing to your bride.”
Max turned and ambled toward them, the stems of three sherry glasses in one large hand, and a whiskey in the other. He stopped at the settee first, offering one to his mother and another to Zinnia. “Nor would you need to, for I would never marry a woman who would tolerate the manipulation.” Then he moved around the table and extended a glass to Juliet, lowering his voice as he made one final comment. “Nor one whose slippers trod only the easiest path.”
She scoffed. If marriage to Lord Granworth had been easy, then she would hate to know the alternative.
“I would not care for sherry this evening,” Juliet said. And in retaliation against Max’s rudeness, she reached out and curled her fingers around his whiskey.
Their fingers collided before she slipped the glass free. If she hadn’t taken him off guard, he might have held fast. As it was, he opened his hand instantly as if scalded by her touch. But she knew that wasn’t true because the heat of his skin nearly blistered her. The shock of it left the underside of her fingers prickly and somewhat raw.
To soothe it, she swirled the cool, golden liquor in the glass. Then, before lifting it to her lips, she met his gaze. His irises were a mixture of earthy brown and cloud gray. Years ago, those eyes were friendly and welcoming, but now had turned cold, like puddles reflecting a winter sky. And because it pleased her to think of his eyes as mud puddles, that was what she thought of when she took a sip. Unfortunately, she didn’t particularly care for whiskey, and fought to hide a shudder as the sour liquid coated her tongue.
Max mocked her with a salute of his dainty goblet and tossed back the sherry in one swallow. Then the corner of his mouth flicked up in a smirk.
She knew that mouth intimately—the firm warm pressure of those lips, the exciting scrape of his teeth, the mesmeric skill of his tongue…
Unbidden warmth simmered beneath her skin as she recalled the kiss that had ruined her life.
Not only that, but there will be an exclusive sneak peek of Max and Juliet’s story, AND one winner will be drawn for an ebook giveaway of THE DEBUTANTE IS MINE. So exciting!!!
WHEN A MARQUESS LOVES A WOMAN is now in the hands of my editor (aside from the epilogue that I’ll write this weekend). I’m so excited about Max and Juliet’s story and I feel blessed that I get to share it with you in October. Yay! <3
My editor put together a fabulous backcover blurb for WHEN A MARQUESS LOVES A WOMAN (available October 4, 2016)! And so, without further ado, here is your first glimpse of Max and Juliet’s story:
As a young, penniless gentleman, Maxwell Harwick knew he had little to offer Juliet White—the most beautiful debutante of the season—except his love, and one thoroughly scandalous kiss. But when they were discovered in a compromising position, a nearly ruined Juliet fled into the arms of a rich, older lord… taking Max’s heart with her.
Now a widow, Lady Juliet Granworth intends to use the fortune she inherited from her odious husband to build a new life in London. Five years have passed, but she’s never forgotten Max… or his soul-searing kiss. Yet it’s clear the newly-minted Marquess of Thayne has not forgiven her—after all, the infuriating man can barely stand the sight of her. But Juliet has endured far too much to give up without a fight and if it’s a battle of wills he wants, it’s a battle he’ll get.
He hates her for breaking his heart. She detests him for destroying her future. But beneath all the loathing, simmers an intoxicating passion that neither can ignore… and the harder they resist, the harder they will inevitably fall.
So I woke to a computer issue that stopped my heart. My desktop was blank.
I tried right-clicking for a menu. Nothing. Searching the taskbar. Nothing. Restarting. Nothing. Pinky just stared back at me, completely mute.
Researching the issue (aka frantically searching my phone while chanting “this can’t be happening”), I found several not very helpful sites and videos (which all involved right-clicking for a menu).
Frustrated, I contemplated rushing Pinky to a computer guy. Yet even through Pinky’s silence, I could hear her gasp at the idea of being manhandled (or even guy-handled) by a stranger. She is like a southern belle, with beauty, grace, and sweetness on the outside, but tough-as-nails on the inside. And she simply wouldn’t stand for some rough and tumble man clicking all over her desktop, and awkwardly fumbling with her underthings.
So I tried again, searching Google for a fix. And lo and behold, I found the right thread! Apparently, an update changed my computer to “tablet mode.” *grrr* Once I disabled that (with an embarrassingly simply click on the only thing I hadn’t clicked before), Pinky was back in all her glory.
We both breathed a sigh of relief.
And now before Pinky and I go to work, it’s time for a soothing cup of tea…
Sending warm wishes to you and to the thread-posters who help us keep our sanity…
It’s here!!! I’ve uploaded the first excerpt for THIS EARL IS ON FIRE on my website, and I’ve also posted it below.
The sheltered daughter of a country baron, Miss Adeline Pimm comes to London looking for adventure… and finds it in the form of a bloody, unconscious man slumped in the doorway of her family’s rented townhouse. Though his identity is a mystery, Adeline is inexplicably drawn to the handsome, injured man and vows to nurse him back to health.
Liam Cavanaugh, the scandalous Earl of Wolford, is startled when he awakens in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in bandages that hinder his eyesight, with no memory of why he was beaten half to death. Although he can’t see the witty young woman who tends to his wounds, her alluring voice—and a single stolen kiss from her soft lips—helps soothe his pain. But when he is fully healed, Liam is not ready to let go of the one woman who stirs his deepest longings.
Liam will do whatever it takes to see Adeline again, even if it means giving up his rakish ways. But his disreputable past is not so easily forgotten and his secrets are far more dangerous than he—or Adeline—ever imagined.
A little background info:
As you can guess from the back-cover blurb, in the beginning of the book, Liam is injured and Adeline’s parents take him into their home to help him recuperate. But what begins as a good deed for them, turns into a trial for Adeline’s reputation. Society cannot accept the idea of a scandalous rake, albeit an injured one, sleeping beneath the same roof as a debutante.
But just so you know, Liam tried very hard to resist her. 🙂
She looked at him as if he were teasing her, but played along nonetheless, chafing her hands together. “I must have an innate talent for pillow fluffing.”
If one could possess a talent for such a thing, she certainly did not. Not that he would tell her. Because if he did, he already knew the result. She would leave his side, and he would lose the relief—or whatever this was—he found in her presence. And he had never been one to deny himself necessary comforts.
Then, as she had done before, she leaned over him. Her hands went to either side of his face, pressing into the pillow, the inviting plumpness of her breasts resting on his chest. Enjoying the moment, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath that hinted at pear blossoms.
She went still. “Why are your hands at my waist?”
Were they? He squeezed his hands and found that, yes, they most definitely were. He also discovered that the satin gown was warm from the heat of her body and fine enough that there was little barrier between his hands and the slender curve of her waist and the slight flare of her hips.
“I’m merely aiding in your efforts by offering stability,” he said, by way of an excuse. Of course, he hadn’t intended to touch her—gentleman’s daughter and all that. Given his pleasure-seeking nature, however, he wasn’t entirely surprised by his wayward hands. Perhaps he should think about removing them before he found them cupped around her breasts. Inadvertently, of course.
“Afraid that I will crush you?” she said with a laugh against his lips. “Well, do not worry, because I have finished. Your pillow is sufficiently plump.”
More than. And lumpy as well, but he did not mind in the least.
