HIS SCANDALOUS VISCOUNTESS by Sorcha Mowbray – Available Now!

Today we are celebrating the release of HIS SCANDALOUS VISCOUNTESS, the third book in the Lustful Lords series by Sorcha Mowbray. This book is a historical romance title from Jack’s House Publishing. Check out the purchase links and blurb for the book below.

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PURCHASE NOW!

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His Scandalous Viscountess (Lustful Lords, #3) by Sorcha Mowbray

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Book Blurb:

Once upon a time, a boy and a girl fell in love…but prestige, power, and a shameful secret drove them apart.

Julia fled abroad after the death of her husband, Lord Fallthorpe. She has finally returned to England, but little has changed.

Except for her.

As a dowager marchioness, Julia lives and loves where she pleases. And the obnoxious son of her dead husband does not please. But what can an independent woman do? Why, create a scandal, of course!

Viscount Wolfington is no stranger to the wagging tongues of the ton. Between being a Lustful Lord and the scandal of his birth, he learned long ago that society had little use for him. So when he walks into The Market and finds the woman who once stole his heart being auctioned for a night of debauchery, he jumps at another chance to hold her–even for just a single night.

As Julia and Wolf unravel their pasts, will villainy win again, or will love finally conquer all?

 

PURCHASE THE PREVIOUS BOOKS IN THE SERIES

His Hand-Me-Down Countess (Lustful Lords, #1)

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Kindle CA | Kindle UK | Kindle AU

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Taming His Hellion Countess (Lustful Lords, #2) 

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——————————

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Sorcha Mowbray is a mild mannered office worker by day…okay, so she is actually a mouthy, opinionated, take charge kind of gal who bosses everyone around; but she definitely works in an office. At night she writes romance so hot she sets the sheets on fire! Just ask her slightly singed husband.

She is a longtime lover of historical romance, having grown up reading Johanna Lindsey and Judith McNaught. Then she discovered Thea Devine and Susan Johnson. Holy cow! Heroes and heroines could do THAT? From there, things devolved into trying her hand at writing a little smexy. Needless to say, she liked it and she hopes you do too!

For more information about Sorcha, please visit her website, “Like” Sorcha on Facebook and follow her on TwitterInstagram and Goodreads. Join Sorcha’s newsletter to be the first to hear about upcoming releases. She loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at sorcha@sorchamowbray.com

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter | Goodreads

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HIS SCANDALOUS VISCOUNTESS by Sorcha Mowbray – Except Reveal

Today we are sharing an excerpt reveal from HIS SCANDALOUS VISCOUNTESS, the third book in the Lustful Lords series by Sorcha Mowbray. This book is a historical romance title from Jack’s House Publishing and it will be releasing on February 15th. Check out the pre-order links and blurb for the book below.

 

His Scandalous Viscountess (Lustful Lords, #3) by Sorcha Mowbray

Releasing February 15

PRE-ORDER NOW!

Kindle US | Apple Books | Nook | Kobo | Google

PURCHASE IN PRINT FROM AMAZON


Book Blurb:

Once upon a time, a boy and a girl fell in love…but prestige, power, and a shameful secret drove them apart.

Julia fled abroad after the death of her husband, Lord Fallthorpe. She has finally returned to England, but little has changed.

Except for her.

As a dowager marchioness, Julia lives and loves where she pleases. And the obnoxious son of her dead husband does not please. But what can an independent woman do? Why, create a scandal, of course!

Viscount Wolfington is no stranger to the wagging tongues of the ton. Between being a Lustful Lord and the scandal of his birth, he learned long ago that society had little use for him. So when he walks into The Market and finds the woman who once stole his heart being auctioned for a night of debauchery, he jumps at another chance to hold her–even for just a single night.

As Julia and Wolf unravel their pasts, will villainy win again, or will love finally conquer all?

EXCERPT: 

Chapter 1

February, 1862

“Gather round, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we have a most unique entertainment.”

Madame de Pompadour’s voice quivered with excitement as Grayson Powell, Viscount Wolfington, walked into The Market. He was late, but the unusual announcement grabbed his attention.

Despite the frustration that pulsed beneath his skin—not uncommon after a confrontation with his father—curiosity had Wolf veering away from the stairs and edging into the back of the half-filled salon.

The attractive madame continued her pitch, exciting the men, and a few of the women. “In a rare occurrence for an establishment such as The Market, tonight we shall have…an auction!”

Murmurs ran through the crowd. Moving closer, Wolf couldn’t help but find himself intrigued. Auctions occurred all over London, but most of them were of a questionable nature, typically featuring a virgin prize. He found the practice disturbing for multiple reasons, primarily because if the woman being auctioned was in fact a virgin, it was doubtful she was participating of her own free will.

Most of the time, the woman in question was not a virgin at all, which meant the buyer was being duped. Toss in the notion that buying and selling human beings smacked of slavery—a practice he could not condone, and England had outlawed in 1833—and all around it made the auctions an objectionable practice.

All of which made The Market holding one entirely outside the norm.

“The woman up for bid this evening is not a virgin.” Madame paused, drawing out the moment. “In fact, she is a woman of experience, who has been a wife to a peer of the realm and lover to a desert sheik. Tonight, she seeks an enthusiastic lover—or two—for a night of unrestrained passion.”

Wolf spotted his friends, Flint, Linc, and Arthur, milling about toward the back of the crowd. He stepped up and greeted them with a quiet nod.

“Interested in the auction, Wolf?” Linc grinned, a clear indication that he was most certainly intrigued by what Madame might have on offer.

“Not particularly. I have my doubts about these spectacles. Honestly, I would have thought The Market above such practices,” Wolf said and returned his focus to the front of the room as Madame raised her hands to quiet the murmuring crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lady Eatifi ‘Ahmar.”

Wolf’s heart suddenly leapt from his chest, only to lodge in his throat. A woman had appeared next to Madame de Pompadour, her hair a deep, fiery red that seemed to ignite in the gaslight. She might call herself Lady Eatifi ‘Ahmar now, but Wolf would know Julia Fairchild—or more aptly, Lady Wallthorpe—even if she were covered in robes from head to toe. And covered, she was not.

Next to him, Linc murmured, “Bloody hell, that woman is brazen. Wanton and brazen.”

And she was. Julia stood before a room full of mostly men wearing a puffy-sleeved chemise that ended far short of where such a garment should. Just below her breasts, the material banded and stopped, leaving her torso uncovered and exposed to all and sundry. The rest of the garment reappeared at her waist, creating a full-skirted look that swished about her ankles, offering suggestive peeks at her lower legs. Around her hips, she had wrapped a brightly colored scarf and a coin-draped belt, which tinkled as she paraded around the makeshift stage in her bare feet.

When she stopped at one end, she turned and flicked her hips, causing the coins to jangle and the material to swirl about her legs. Wolf’s mouth felt as though he’d ridden across the dells, only to be rewarded with cotton in lieu of water.

Finally, Lady Eatifi ‘Ahmar returned to Madame’s side and finished her tempting display with a shimmy of her shoulders that set everything to jiggling in the most enticing manner.

And with that, the bidding commenced.

“One hundred pounds from Lord Glennmore,” Madame announced.

It took mere moments for the bidding to reach a thousand pounds. With each subsequent raise in price, Wolf’s fury swelled.

How could Julia do such a thing? What of the scandal this would mire her in?

Had she no care for her reputation?

He listened to the lascivious men call out ridiculous sums of money for the privilege of slipping between her long legs, all the while watching for the point when the bidding slowed.

Wolf leaned over to Linc and nudged his friend. “How much blunt do you have on you?”

“Not interested?” Linc jabbed an elbow in his ribs. “I’ve got seven thousand pounds. Hit a run of luck at the tables tonight.”

“Can I borrow it? I’ll write you a draft on my bank.”

Linc grunted and handed him the wad of cash. “I don’t want the money. Share her with me.”

Wolf’s gut churned. Could he do such a thing? There was a time when he had been deeply in love with Julia. But he’d long ago closed off that part of himself, and willed it to wither and die. His intervention tonight was nothing more than common decency, a way to ensure she didn’t suffer at the hands of some pompous, overblown lord who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I plan to release her from any obligation to us.”

Linc sighed. “I rather figured. Go on, then.”

As the offers reached the five-thousand-pound mark, Wolf made his move. “Ten thousand pounds. Ready.”

The room grew quiet, except for a few mutters of annoyance from the previous highest bidders. Madame looked fit to burst, she was so pleased. Julia appeared surprised, almost as if she couldn’t fathom such a large bid.

Or perchance it was because it had come from him?

“Sold to Lord Wolfington!”

Madame’s excitement bubbled over, even as Julia leaned over and whispered in her ear. The enigmatic owner of The Market merely held up her hands, as if to say it was already done, and Julia frowned in response.

A few men grumbled, but it was clear Madame had achieved whatever her goal was, and she would not continue the auction.

Wolf pressed through the now-dispersing crowd until he reached the raised platform. Stepping up, he towered over the petite Madame de Pompadour, as usual, but the statuesque Julia still all but looked him in the eye. Years ago, when they had been young, her height and her refusal to appear of lesser stature was one of the many things he’d loved about her.

Wolf bowed over the proprietress’s hand. “Good evening, Madame.” And then he turned toward Julia, who automatically lifted her hand. Good manners always won out—even hers, so it seemed. “Ju—Lady ‘Ahmar, such a lovely surprise to see you again.”

Madame waggled her eyebrows. “Ah-ha! Now I understand. You know each other already.”

“Yes, we were acquainted many years ago,” Wolf replied. “But alas, she left me behind and gallivanted off to tour the world with her new husband.”

The bitterness over that turn of events was hard to squash down again, since it currently felt as though someone had ripped the bandage off the wound, causing it to seep anew.

“Well, that is what one does when they are deserted on a London street corner and left to be married off.”

Julia’s green eyes flashed sparks he’d never seen from her before. When he’d known her, she had been strong-willed, but soft-spoken

“And I suppose one also stays away from England for nearly ten years after his death?” Wolf let one of his brows rise, his anger refusing to be quelled.

“Such passion between you two, it gives me chills.” Madame’s eyes appeared glassy, and her cheeks flushed. “Alas, we must conduct business before pleasure.”

“Of course, Madame.” Wolf looked about and spotted his friend standing nearby. “Linc, can you take Lady…uh, ‘Ahmar, upstairs? I’ll be along in a moment.”

“My pleasure.” Linc held out his hand and assisted Julia down from the platform. Leaving Wolf to quickly follow Madame into her office to settle their business.

When he finally headed upstairs to find Julia and Linc, he tried to tamp down his more hedonistic instincts. He’d told Linc he planned to let her leave unmolested, which he fully intended to follow through with. But images of her standing on the dais with her torso exposed kept flashing through his brain. All that smooth, creamy flesh bared, and then the small peeks of her ankles as she’d stood barefoot.

Next his dastardly mind retrieved images that took him up her calves, over her thighs, and presented him with the notion of feasting on her sweet pussy. His cock flexed in his trousers, rising to the occasion, regardless of it being all in his mind.

Determined to be a gentleman, he willed his lusty thoughts to retreat and his shaft to soften as he steeled himself to see the woman he had once wanted more than his next breath.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Julia sat beside the man Grayson—no, Wolf—had called Linc.

Wolf? She tested the name out in her head, and thought about the man who had strode onto the makeshift stage to claim her. There had been a predatory quality to him that had not been part of the young man she had once known and loved. The moniker suited him far more than Grayson.

Linc eyed her speculatively as she sat across from him in the growing quiet. “Lady ‘Ahmar, it appears you have already met Lord Wolfington.”

Julia tried not to sigh as she thought of the idyllic young man she’d once known. “We were neighbors, many years ago.”

The blond man seemed to ponder that notion for a moment. “You must have been quite young.”

She couldn’t repress the smile that came to her lips as she remembered their youthful romps across the countryside near Marribone Manor, and then later, when they’d met again after he finished school and she had been launched into Society. He had acted the earnest, doting suitor during her first seasons, and made her believe in fate and fairytales.

While not the daughter of a peer, Julia’s father had been very successful in his business endeavors, which had afforded them the ability to move amongst the ton. Of course, as she later learned, that had all been done with a very precise purpose. Specifically, for her to marry into the peerage, thereby making her parents related to that upper echelon of Society versus the fringe dwellers they had been relegated to as nouveau riche upstarts.

“We were young and blissfully ignorant of gender and class expectations at the time.” Not to mention naïve about how unreliable love could be. Following her heart again was not a mistake she would make anytime soon. Memories of her past tasted bitter on her tongue, even as she waited for the source of all her heartache to reappear.

The door suddenly swung open, and she peered at two men and the ladies that accompanied them. However, Wolf was not among the small party.

“Hello!” One of the men, whose short-cropped hair fell in a soft wave of golden brown across his forehead, lifted a glass of amber liquid in a salute. “Where has Wolf gotten off to? I figured you two would be relishing your spoils by now.”

Julia’s cheeks heated at the obvious reference to their having won her in the auction. She drew a deep breath. She had known what would occur. Had even arranged for the event downstairs, but that knowledge didn’t mitigate the fact she had all but been forced into the event. Nevertheless, she had intended to make the most of an untenable situation.

Why shouldn’t I have the opportunity to explore a new sexual experience while holding the jackals of Society at bay?

Linc glared at the friendly man. “Hold your tongue, Dunmere. Lady ‘Ahmar is our guest.”

Dunmere’s eyebrows rose, but he ceased asking uncomfortable questions, which Julia was grateful for.

Then the door of the room swung open once again, and this time Wolf strode through, looking fiercely determined. About what, she had no idea. However, she hoped it had something to do with having hot, sweaty sex with her. And if that happened to include the boyishly handsome Linc, all the better. The man owed her a little pleasure after all the pain he’d caused.

“Julia—uh, Lady ‘Ahmar.”

Wolf seemed unsure for a moment as he pulled up short and stopped.

She rose to her feet. “Please, Julia is fine. My identity is no great secret, despite the nom de guerre.”

“Very well.” He nodded sharply. “I came to escort you home.”

“Home?” She was confused by his words, as images of the two men wrapped around her still teased her brain.

“Yes. Shall we?” He indicted the door, which he held open.

She crossed her arms under her breasts. “I believe we have some business to attend to first.”

Wolf’s golden-brown brows drew down over his clear blue eyes. “We do not.”

Her spine stiffened in indignation. “On the contrary, you won a night of sexual adventure with me, and I have no plans to renege on that promise.”

Just then, a group of noisy men and women stampeded past the open door of their room.

She let one brow rise. “Perhaps we could have this argument with less of an audience than the one both currently in the room with us, and the one passing by?”

Wolf grunted and waited until the man called Dunmere and the rest of his party departed. Then he closed the door with an imperious thud. “I bid on you with the full intention of releasing you from your obligation.”

Julia drew a deep breath. The man was going to be impossible about this. With no warning, she turned and wiggled onto Linc’s lap as he sat in a wing chair. Completely caught off guard, he had no chance to block her maneuver.

“Unfortunately, I have no such good intention on my part,” she continued. “You bid on me and won, and I fully intend to extract my night of pleasure from you and your friend. I believe you won together, did you not?”

Linc looked distinctly uncomfortable as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed her breasts closer to his chest and face. He coughed, then answered. “Yes, I provided some blunt.”

“Excellent. It was my preference that two men would win the night with me. Wolf, will you be joining us, or am I to be disappointed by you once again?”

She winced inside at her reference to their past, but she needed to move him off the mark. She needed to know what having Wolf as a lover might be like, just this once. Because despite her lingering anger with him, her body still responded to his mere presence.

To her excitement, Linc appeared to be game for her plan. His cock grew harder by the moment beneath her thighs. She turned her face so she was close to his ear and could whisper to him. “What will it take to get him to join us, do you think?”

“This secret conversation alone might do the trick,” Linc whispered back. “But if not, then maybe you could kiss me. That ought to get him moving…though hopefully not to punch me in the face.”

She chuckled and then leaned in and captured Linc’s lips with her own. Pushing past his teeth, she swept in to taste the whisky on his tongue and explore his mouth. He met her with a vigorous twist of tongues that reminded her of what it was to have a man touch her again. It had been nearly a year since she’d last felt the touch of a desirable man in his prime. And Linc fully met both requirements.

Though Wolf might easily obliterate the competition if he would remove himself from hovering near the door like a clucking hen.

And then his presence suddenly loomed over them, casting a shadow from the gas lamps along the wall. Rough hands, like those of a laborer, cupped her face and pulled her mouth from Linc’s. As she turned to look up at Wolf, their gazes met. His expressive blue eyes had shifted to a more stormy gray, and he slammed his mouth down on hers in a move that was pure declaration.

Julia’s senses reeled as Wolf kissed her. He tasted of man, and the faint hint of mint, which triggered the echo of a memory as their tongues tangled and twined. The wet slide was an erotic caress that had her nipples hardening and her pussy dampening in immediate response. Then one big hand slipped around to the back of her neck and hauled her up and off Linc’s lap. Once she was standing, Wolf pressed closer to her, deepening the kiss, as though he wanted to crawl inside her.

Behind her, Linc rose and pressed closer to her back, sandwiching her between them. He unfastened her belt, letting it fall to the floor with a muffled tinkle. Then he loosened the scarf at her waist and slipped it free from her hips.

Wolf broke the kiss, finally retreating for a much-needed breath. Julia’s head spun as she tried to take in the truth of the matter. The man she’d dreamed about for a decade was here in her arms, if only for one night.

How could she let the opportunity to bring every fantasy she’d had to life pass?

Wolf’s tumultuous blue gaze bore into her, demanding the truth. “Do you truly want this, Jules?”

PURCHASE THE PREVIOUS BOOKS IN THE SERIES

His Hand-Me-Down Countess (Lustful Lords, #1)

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Taming His Hellion Countess (Lustful Lords, #2) 

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——————————

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Sorcha Mowbray is a mild mannered office worker by day…okay, so she is actually a mouthy, opinionated, take charge kind of gal who bosses everyone around; but she definitely works in an office. At night she writes romance so hot she sets the sheets on fire! Just ask her slightly singed husband.

She is a longtime lover of historical romance, having grown up reading Johanna Lindsey and Judith McNaught. Then she discovered Thea Devine and Susan Johnson. Holy cow! Heroes and heroines could do THAT? From there, things devolved into trying her hand at writing a little smexy. Needless to say, she liked it and she hopes you do too!

For more information about Sorcha, please visit her website, “Like” Sorcha on Facebook and follow her on TwitterInstagram and Goodreads. Join Sorcha’s newsletter to be the first to hear about upcoming releases. She loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at sorcha@sorchamowbray.com

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter | Goodreads

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DUCHESS BY DECEPTION by Marie Force – Available Now!

Today we are celebrating the release of DUCHESS BY DECEPTION by Marie Force. This is Marie’s first historical romance title and is part of the Gilded series. Grab your copy now!

PURCHASE IT NOW!

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DUCHESS BY DECEPTION by Marie Force

A Gilded Novel

Available Now

Book Blurb:

In New York Times bestselling author Marie Force’s dazzling historical romance debut, the clock is ticking for a wealthy Duke who must marry by his thirtieth birthday—or lose his title…

Derek Eagan, the dashing Duke of Westwood, is well aware of his looming deadline. But weary of tiresome debutantes, he seeks a respite at his country home in Essex—and encounters a man digging on his property. Except he’s not a man. He’s a very lovely woman. Who suddenly faints at his feet.

Catherine McCabe’s disdain for the aristocracy has already led her to flee an arranged marriage with a boorish Viscount. The last thing she wants is to be waylaid in a Duke’s home. Yet, she is compelled to stay by the handsome, thoughtful man who introduces himself as the Duke’s estate manager.

Derek realizes two things immediately: he is captivated by her delicate beauty, and to figure out what she was up to, Catherine must not know he is the Duke. But as they fall passionately in love, Derek’s lie spins out of control. Will their bond survive his deception, not to mention the scorned Viscount’s pursuit? Most important, can Catherine fall in love all over again—this time with the Duke?

“…Force has crafted a masterpiece with the perfect amount of romance.” —Starred Review from Publisher’s Weekly

PURCHASE IT NOW!

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—————————-

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Marie Force is the New York Times bestselling author of more than 50 contemporary romances, including the Gansett Island Series, which has sold more than 3 million books, and the Fatal Series from Harlequin Books, which has sold 1.5 million books. In addition, she is the author of the Butler, Vermont Series, the Green Mountain Series and the erotic romance Quantum Series, written under the slightly modified name of M.S. Force. All together, her books have sold more than 5.5 million copies worldwide!

Her goals in life are simple—to finish raising two happy, healthy, productive young adults, to keep writing books for as long as she possibly can and to never be on a flight that makes the news.
Join Marie’s mailing list for news about new books and upcoming appearances in your area. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter @marieforce and on Instagram. Join one of Marie’s many reader groups. Contact Marie at marie@marieforce.com.

 

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter | Goodreads

Join Marie’s Reader Groups

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DARING THE DETECTIVE by Riley Cole – Available Now!

Today we are celebrating the release of DARING THE DETECTIVE by Riley Cole. This is a historical romance series from Jack’s House Publishing and Daring the Detective is the third book in The Restitution League series. Check out the purchase links for the book below, and previous books in the series, below.

———-

—Meet the Restitution League—
They’re thieves. They’re rogues. They’re well-armed for adventure.

The crew of the Restitution League fights injustice while wrestling with love and desire and the occasional throwing knife.

One blazing romance at a time…

DARING THE DETECTIVE by Riley Cole

PURCHASE DARING THE DETECTIVE

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Purchase in print on Amazon 

Synopsis:

 

He’s everything she disdains. She’s nothing he admires.

But love has its own delightful logic.

Whether bartering with Barbary pirates or angry Gypsy kings, Zadie Whitlock lives by her wits… and the business end of her parasol.

Detective Caleb Burke lives to right wrongs. He can’t abide Zadie’s daring, impulsive ways, especially after she leaves him bound to a library shelf with his own handcuffs.

Still, he can’t ignore the passion the damned woman ignites.

Nor can Zadie dismiss his smoldering allure. Which is troublesome in the extreme, because Caleb Burke isn’t the man for her. He’s too honorable, too loyal, and far too likely to follow the rules.

Dazzled by her indomitable spirit, Caleb makes a fateful choice that sets the two of them on a hunt for lost Viking treasure. Failure will see his career in ashes, and Zadie on trial for her life.

Pursued by deadly forces, they’ve got the power of the Restitution League on their side… and their own stubborn hearts in the way.

 

 

PREVIOUS TITLES IN THE SERIES

REJECTING THE ROGUE by Riley Cole

PURCHASE REJECTING THE ROGUE

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Add REJECTING THE ROGUE to Goodreads

 

SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST by Riley Cole

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Add SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST to Goodreads

———————-

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

 

Riley has a long fascination with all things Victorian. She loves the peculiar mix of science, mysticism and innovation that collided in the Victorian Era.

To say nothing of bustles. Bustles and elaborate hats and parasols. Parasols for rain. Parasols for sun. And parasols that morph into swords…of course. 

Sadly, Riley has little use for umbrellas in the dry foothills of the Eastern Sierra, but she consoles herself with forest hikes and dips in cool mountain lakes. Besides—no matter where one resides—a proper cuppa never comes amiss.

If you enjoy a little high adventure—and a lot of desire—with your historical romance, delve into Riley’s version of late Victorian London.

Thieves, rogues, and love await…

For more information about Riley, please visit her website, “like” Riley on Facebook and follow her on Twitter. Sign up for Riley’s newsletter to be notified about upcoming releases. She’s loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at riley@rileycole.com.

Riley’s Jack’s House releases include Rejecting the Rogue and Seducing the Scientist from the Restitution League Series.

CONTACT LINKS:

Jack’s House Author Page |  Website |  Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads  | Newsletter

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Chapter Reveal: DUCHESS OF DECEPTION by Marie Force

Today we are sharing a chapter reveal from DUCHESS OF DECEPTION by Marie Force. This is Marie’s first historical romance title and is part of the Gilded series. It releases January 29th. Read chapter one from the book below.

PRE-ORDER IT NOW!

Kindle US |  Apple Books  | Nook  | Kobo | Google

Kindle CA  |  Kindle UK  |  Kindle AU

PURCHASE IN PRINT: Amazon | Books-a-Million  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Chapters Indigo  |  Indie Bound

AUDIO: Sample  |   Audible US  |  Audible UK  |  Audible AU

DUCHESS BY DECEPTION by Marie Force

Coming January 29!

Book Blurb:

In New York Times bestselling author Marie Force’s dazzling historical romance debut, the clock is ticking for a wealthy Duke who must marry by his thirtieth birthday—or lose his title…

Derek Eagan, the dashing Duke of Westwood, is well aware of his looming deadline. But weary of tiresome debutantes, he seeks a respite at his country home in Essex—and encounters a man digging on his property. Except he’s not a man. He’s a very lovely woman. Who suddenly faints at his feet.

Catherine McCabe’s disdain for the aristocracy has already led her to flee an arranged marriage with a boorish Viscount. The last thing she wants is to be waylaid in a Duke’s home. Yet, she is compelled to stay by the handsome, thoughtful man who introduces himself as the Duke’s estate manager.

Derek realizes two things immediately: he is captivated by her delicate beauty, and to figure out what she was up to, Catherine must not know he is the Duke. But as they fall passionately in love, Derek’s lie spins out of control. Will their bond survive his deception, not to mention the scorned Viscount’s pursuit? Most important, can Catherine fall in love all over again—this time with the Duke?

“…Force has crafted a masterpiece with the perfect amount of romance.” —Starred Review from Publisher’s Weekly

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Chapter 1

London, May 5, 1902

“I cannot bear another minute of this charade,” Derek Eagan, the seventh Duke of Westwood, declared to his cohorts as they watched a simpering group of debutantes work the gilded ballroom. He tugged impatiently at his starched attachable collar and wished he could remove it and the tie that choked him without sending yet another tedious scandal rippling through the ton.

“What charade?” asked Lord Justin Enderly, his smile dripping with the charm that had endeared him to many a mother. “Watching nubile young things flit about with love and marriage on their minds?” As the second son of an earl, Enderly was much less desirable to the simpering debs than Derek, once again considered the Season’s top prize—and Enderly knew it, of course.

“All of it.” Derek gestured to the glittering scene before them in the Earl of Chadwick’s enormous ballroom. Surely half the aristocracy was in attendance at one of the Season’s most anticipated balls. Women in frothy gowns made of the finest silks and satins, dripping in exquisite gems. Men in their most dashing evening wear. “The balls, the gowns, the dance cards, the ludicrous conversations, the desperate mothers. I’ve grown so weary of it, I could spit.”

Aubrey Nelson, the American-born industrialist who’d humored his English-born mother with a second Season, nodded in agreement. “The pomp, the ceremony, the rules.” He shook his head. “I’ll be back in New York—or banished from polite society—long before I master them all.”

Unlike Nelson, Derek had been raised for the charade, but many of the rules escaped him, as well. “Utter drivel,” Derek murmured. “I’ve half a mind to compromise a willing young maiden and be done with the whole nightmare.”

“What’s stopping you?” Enderly asked, crooking a wicked eyebrow.

“I’d have to attempt to converse with her for the rest of my days,” Derek grumbled. His friends and the hangers-on surrounding them howled with laughter. “I’ve talked to every one of them and haven’t found one who interests me enough to pursue anything further.”

“Same as last year,” Enderly said.

“And the year before, and the year before that,” Derek said, the despair creeping in once again. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find a wife. He would love nothing more than to have one person in the world who belonged only to him and vice versa. Not to mention he needed a wife, albeit for altogether different reasons. Yet he wasn’t willing to settle.

Each year he approached the Season with a new sense of hope, and each year, as the young women got younger and he got older, the disappointment afterward became more intense and longer lasting. This year, however, the bloody deadline loomed large, coloring his view of the Season’s limited options.

“This year’s group seems particularly young,” Enderly noted.

“Or perhaps we’re just getting particularly old,” Derek said morosely.

“No doubt,” Enderly said. As a second son he was under much less pressure to marry than Derek and enjoyed his bachelor life far too much to give it up before he absolutely had to. For that matter, everyone was under less pressure to marry than Derek, thanks to the damned deadline.

“Is there one among them who cares about something other than her hair or her gown or her slippers?” Derek asked. Was there one among them, he wanted to ask, who looked at him and saw anything other than his title, his rank, his wealth or the looming deadline that had filled the betting books all over town?

“They all care about their dance cards,” Nelson said dryly.

“Too true,” Derek concurred. “Speaking only for myself, I’ve had enough. I’m returning to Westwood Hall in the morning.”

“But the Season still has weeks left to go,” Enderly said in obvious distress. “You can’t go yet, Your Grace. What of your deadline? What will Lord Anthony say?”

“He would hardly care. He’s practically salivating, hoping I fail to marry in time.”

“Whatever could your ancestor have been thinking, with such an utterly daft provision?” Nelson asked. “Enter into a ‘suitable state of matrimony’— whatever that is—by thirty or abdicate your title? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Of course, he hadn’t, Derek mused. The colonists had left such barbaric practices behind in England. “I suppose he was out to ensure the bloodline. Instead, he placed a matrimonial pox upon each succeeding generation.”

“Is it even legal?” Justin asked.

“Probably not, but the previous dukes married young so it was never an issue for them, and I chose not to contest it with Anthony waiting in the wings drooling all over the duchy.”

“What happens if you don’t marry in time?” Nelson asked.

“The title and all accompanying holdings transfer to my uncle and then later to Simon, who, as the heir, would also be required to marry post haste. That would truly be a travesty.” If anyone was less suited to a life of marriage, responsibility and duty, it was Derek’s happy-go-lucky first cousin and dear friend.

“Have any of your ancestors missed the deadline?” Nelson asked, seeming genuinely intrigued by the drama of it all whereas Derek was just weary—from thinking about it, dreading it and from imagining being married to a nameless, faceless woman just to preserve his title. He shuddered at the thought of shackles and chains.

“Not so far, and I have no desire to be the first. However, I refuse to pick just anyone in order to keep my title.” His ancestor’s efforts to ensure the dukedom had put Derek in a serious quandary. His thirtieth birthday was now mere days away without a female prospect in sight who sparked anything in him other than utter apathy, not to mention despair at the idea of having to actually talk to her for the rest of his life.

Naturally, the entire haute ton was captivated by Derek’s plight, but not a one of them gave a fig about his happiness or well-being. He would almost prefer to surrender the title than be shackled for life to a “suitable” woman who did nothing else for him but ensure his place in the aristocracy.

Almost.

With his deadline the talk of the Season, every available young maiden had been marched before him—more than once. Judging his prospects by what he’d seen of the Season’s available crop, he was in no danger of imminent betrothal. “What’s the point of hanging around when I already know that none of them suit me?”

“They don’t have to suit you, your Grace,” Enderly reminded him. “You only need one with the proper equipment to provide an heir—and a spare if you’re feeling particularly randy.”

“And you need her to say, ‘I do,’ by the sixteenth of May,” Nelson added with a wry grin.

“Don’t remind me,” Derek grumbled. Was it just him, or was it exceedingly warm tonight? Or was it the reminder of his coming birthday that had him sweating? Perhaps it was the rampant wagering that had him on edge. He’d lost track of whom among his so-called peers and “friends” was betting for or against the likelihood of his securing a suitable marriage before his birthday.

Derek never would’ve chosen the title he’d inherited at the tender age of six when his parents were killed in a carriage accident. Over the years since his majority, however, he’d grown into his role as one of the most powerful and influential men in England. He didn’t relish the idea of turning over his title and holdings to an arrogant, greedy, overly ambitious uncle who would care far more about how he was judged in polite society than he ever would about ensuring that their tenants had adequate roofs over their heads. Nor did Derek wish to see his cousin constrained by a life he had no interest in. Too many people depended on the dukedom to see it end up in the hands of someone who couldn’t care less about it.

A vexing debate for sure, especially since Derek often dreamed of shedding his responsibilities and taking off to see the world as he’d always wanted to do. But then he thought, as he often did, of his late parents. Since their deaths, he’d aimed to live his life in a manner and fashion that would’ve made them proud. Losing his title, especially to an uncle his father had despised, would not make them proud, so Derek would do what was expected of him because that was what he’d always done—no matter what it might’ve cost him.

“What of all your meetings?” Enderly asked.

“I had the last of them today with the Newcastle upon Tyne Electric Supply Company to pump some capital into their Neptune Bank Power Station. They’re doing some intriguing work with three-phase electrical power distribution.” The blank looks on the faces of his friends tampered his enthusiasm. Where he would absorb such information with obsessive attention to detail, he’d come to realize that others were less interested in the how of electrical lighting and other innovations. They were far more than content to fully luxuriate in modern conveniences without bothering themselves with the details. Electricity was making its way into wealthy homes and public buildings in town, but it would be a while yet before it made its way to the country.

“Wasn’t there another one?” Justin asked. “Something with brothers?”

Derek nodded. “I’ll be providing emergency financing to the brothers from America who believe they’ve found the secret to manned flight.”

“You can’t be serious,” Nelson said. “The Wright brothers?”

Derek nodded, used to his peers finding his investment decisions questionable at best. They couldn’t, however, argue with his results.

“Has everyone in America finally said no to them?” Nelson asked.

“I didn’t ask that. I simply wish to be a part of what they’re doing. I believe they will attain success, perhaps before the end of the decade.”

Nelson rolled his eyes. “It’s your money to throw away.”

“What’s next?” Enderly asked, his tone tinged with sarcasm. “Motorcars?”

“As a matter of fact, due to my involvement in Wolseley Tool and Motor Car Company, I was asked to back a venture with Lord Austin and his brother that will bring production of motorcars to England in the foreseeable future.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Enderly asked with a smile.

One of the most annoying of that year’s debutantes, Lady Charlotte something or other, flashed Derek a suggestive smile full of invitation. As he’d learned early in his first Season, he didn’t make eye contact unless he wished to encourage attention, which he most assuredly did not.

“All you’d have to do is snap your fingers, and Lady Charlotte would say ‘I do,’” Enderly said.

Derek could have been mistaken, but it seemed as if his friend was enjoying baiting him. “If I’m going to shackle myself to a woman for life, she’s got to have more than the proper plumbing.” Derek tugged again on the collar that poked at his neck and the strangling tie. His valet Gregory had been rather rigid in his knot tying that night, as if he too were out to constrain Derek to his husbandly fate.

“What is it exactly that you seek, Your Grace?” Nelson asked with a kind smile.

“Damned if I know. I just hope I’ll recognize it when I see it, and I hope I’ll see it soon.” She was out there somewhere. He had no doubt of that. If only he knew where to look.

“You’re holding out for a love match then?” Enderly asked.

“I don’t necessarily yearn for the mess that accompanies a love match, but is it too much to hope for some intelligent conversation with my after-dinner port?” The utter despair of his situation came crashing down as he viewed the gay scene before him. “What in the world would I talk about to any of them?”

Apparently, neither of his friends could supply a satisfactory answer.

Enderly shifted with discomfort from one foot to the other. “What are your plans, Westy?” he asked softly, reverting to Derek’s nickname from their years together at Eton.

“I need to spend some time riding Hercules and thinking. I can’t think here. Just a few days, and then I’ll come back and bite the proverbial bullet.” He’d have no other option but to choose one of the young women flitting before him unless he wanted everything he had to slip through his fingers to an uncle who didn’t deserve it. But the thought of being stuck with a wife who didn’t suit him made him ill.

“You’ll be the talk of the ton,” Enderly declared, scandalized.

“Let them talk. I won’t hear it in Essex.”

“But it won’t be any fun without you, Your Grace,” Nelson said mournfully.

Enderly nodded in agreement. “Nor will the ladies flock about us with quite the same . . . ”

Desperation?” Derek asked with a grin. His friends laughed. As usual, they had kept this dreadful experience from being a total loss.

“Lady Patience will wish to visit,” Enderly said with an evil grin. “She’s apt to follow you to the country.”

“She won’t gain an audience with me even if she does give chase,” Derek said of the Duke of Devonshire’s daughter, who had pursued him with relentless determination. “She holds even less appeal than the others.”

“Why is that?” Nelson asked.

“She brays like a donkey when she laughs.”

“Ouch,” Enderly said, chuckling.

“I quite fear that no woman will meet the discriminating requirements of our dear, distinguished friend,” Nelson said to Enderly.

“That’s just fine with me,” Derek said, happier than he’d been in weeks now that a decision had been made. “I’d rather be a lonely commoner than be shackled for life to a ‘suitable’ braying donkey.”

***

Lord Anthony Eagan, son of a duke, brother of a duke and uncle to the current duke, reclined on a red velvet chaise and took a sip from his glass of port. Always on the outside looking in, just barely on the fringes of tremendous wealth and power. Thankfully, all three dukes had provided handsomely for him, allowing him the freedom to pursue his own interests.

But what interested Anthony, what seduced him more than anything else ever could, was the power of the title. When the Duke of Westwood entered a room, people noticed. Society noticed. No one paid much heed, on the other hand, to the duke’s second son, his brother, or his uncle. In the fifteen years he’d served as his nephew’s guardian, he had sampled a generous helping of power. Having to cede it to a boy just barely out of leading strings had been demoralizing, to say the least. The subsequent years had reduced Anthony once again to the fringes. He didn’t much care for the fringes, and he never had.

While Derek had stepped nobly and with infuriating independence into the position he’d been born to, Anthony had been relegated to watching and seething and planning. Now, on the eve of Derek’s thirtieth birthday, came opportunity. If Derek failed to marry by the sixteenth of May, the title would revert to Anthony, and he would finally be the Duke of Westwood. The way it always should have been.

And while he had come to grudgingly respect his nephew’s acumen with finance and his bearing among the haute ton, he disdained the boy’s inner softness. That softness, Anthony mused, would be his downfall, just as it had been his father’s. Perhaps it was because Derek had lost his parents at such a tender age or maybe it was the guilt that came from being the twin who’d survived the journey into this world. Regardless of the cause, Derek lacked the inner fortitude that Anthony possessed in spades.

Anthony wasn’t afraid to use that fortitude to gain what should’ve been his all along. Derek was supposed to have been in that carriage the night his parents had been killed. They had planned to dine as a family at a neighboring estate. No one had bothered to tell Anthony that the boy had been left behind in the nursery when he showed signs of fever.

No one had told him until it was far too late, until he’d been saddled with an orphaned young nephew and vast holdings to “oversee” until that nephew gained his majority.

The holdings were supposed to have been his. Instead, he became the steward rather than the duke. Instead, it was left to him to nurse his grief-stricken nephew through those dreadful months after “the accident.” Since another “accident” so soon after the first would’ve raised suspicions, he had nursed when he’d wanted to strangle. He’d mentored when he wanted to stab. If only the boy had been where he was supposed to be, Anthony would’ve had what was rightfully his for all this time.

Soon, Anthony mused. That softness within Derek wouldn’t permit him to marry for the sake of his title. Like the fool he was, Derek wanted more. The softness would be his downfall. Anthony was betting on it and breathing a bit easier after realizing that none of the Season’s debutantes had caught his discerning nephew’s eye.

Lucy Dexter, one of London’s most accomplished courtesans, crawled from the foot of the chaise to envelop him in soft curves and sweet scent. Silky dark hair cascaded invitingly over his chest.

“What troubles you tonight, my lord?”

“Nothing of any consequence.”

“You ponder the fate of your nephew and the duchy you covet.”

Anthony raised an imperious brow. “It is rather impertinent for you to speak so boldly of things that are none of your concern.”

Lucy’s husky laugh caught the attention of his recently satisfied libido. “How can you say such things are none of my concern when you’ve made them my concern by unburdening yourself to me quite regularly?”

The double entendre wasn’t lost on Anthony. Through the silk dressing gown he had given her, he cupped a bountiful breast and pinched the nipple roughly between his fingers, drawing a surprised gasp from her bow-shaped mouth. “If you speak of my concerns with anyone else, madam, you will quickly discover my less-than-amiable side, which I usually prefer to keep hidden from the fairer sex.”

Her blue eyes hardened with displeasure. “I believe I have proven my allegiance time and again over these many years, my lord. There is no need for threats nor less-than- subtle attempts at intimidation.”

She could quite ruin him. She knew it. He knew it. Power. He had given her far too much, he realized, and that was something he might, at some point, need to contend with. But certainly not right now, not when she was pushing his dressing gown aside to drop soft, open-mouthed kisses on his chest.

Anthony sighed with satisfaction, placed the empty glass on a table and buried his fingers in silky tresses. When she took his cock into the velvety warmth of her mouth, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back in surrender.

Power—the only commodity that truly counted. As she sucked and licked him to explosive fulfillment, it hardly mattered that he had ceded some of his to her for the time being. Before long, he’d have more than he knew what to do with. It was only a matter of time.

—————————-

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Marie Force is the New York Times bestselling author of more than 50 contemporary romances, including the Gansett Island Series, which has sold more than 3 million books, and the Fatal Series from Harlequin Books, which has sold 1.5 million books. In addition, she is the author of the Butler, Vermont Series, the Green Mountain Series and the erotic romance Quantum Series, written under the slightly modified name of M.S. Force. All together, her books have sold more than 5.5 million copies worldwide!

Her goals in life are simple—to finish raising two happy, healthy, productive young adults, to keep writing books for as long as she possibly can and to never be on a flight that makes the news.
Join Marie’s mailing list for news about new books and upcoming appearances in your area. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter @marieforce and on Instagram. Join one of Marie’s many reader groups. Contact Marie at marie@marieforce.com.

 

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DARING THE DETECTIVE by Riley Cole – Chapter Reveal

Today we are sharing chapter 1 from DARING THE DETECTIVE by Riley Cole. This is a historical romance series releasing from Jack’s House Publishing and Daring the Detective is the third book in The Restitution League series. Check out the pre-order links for the book below. It releases January 22nd.

———-

—Meet the Restitution League—
They’re thieves. They’re rogues. They’re well-armed for adventure.

The crew of the Restitution League fights injustice while wrestling with love and desire and the occasional throwing knife.

One blazing romance at a time…

DARING THE DETECTIVE by Riley Cole – Releasing January 22

PRE-ORDER DARING THE DETECTIVE

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Synopsis:

 

He’s everything she disdains. She’s nothing he admires.

But love has its own delightful logic.

Whether bartering with Barbary pirates or angry Gypsy kings, Zadie Whitlock lives by her wits… and the business end of her parasol.

Detective Caleb Burke lives to right wrongs. He can’t abide Zadie’s daring, impulsive ways, especially after she leaves him bound to a library shelf with his own handcuffs.

Still, he can’t ignore the passion the damned woman ignites.

Nor can Zadie dismiss his smoldering allure. Which is troublesome in the extreme, because Caleb Burke isn’t the man for her. He’s too honorable, too loyal, and far too likely to follow the rules.

Dazzled by her indomitable spirit, Caleb makes a fateful choice that sets the two of them on a hunt for lost Viking treasure. Failure will see his career in ashes, and Zadie on trial for her life.

Pursued by deadly forces, they’ve got the power of the Restitution League on their side… and their own stubborn hearts in the way.

——————–

READ CHAPTER 1

Chapter 1

Restitution League Headquarters, London

September 1882

The moment Meena Crane introduced her to the tall, quiet man in the shadows, Zadie Whitlock’s knees went weak. Her reaction had nothing to do with his glorious physique or those penetrating brown eyes. Unfortunately.

It was the badge pinned to his jacket that sent her spinning. Who would have guessed the League included a blasted detective?

Though her intuition screamed at her to leave, she curled her fingers around the haft of her parasol and allowed her hostess to finish the introductions and shepherd her toward the sitting area at the back of the impressive offices.

If it weren’t for the crusher glowering at her from the corner, she would have been impressed. The League’s offices were even grander than she’d expected. All polished wood and modern business machinery, the space crackled with energy. And the members themselves outshone their workspace. Bright and engaging, Meena Crane and her crew appeared capable of tackling the direst of cases. But despite the favorable impressions, Zadie ached to make her excuses and back straight out of the building.

Zadie smiled at her very pregnant hostess and tried her best to pretend that Caleb Burke didn’t exist, but that was a losing proposition. Lean and powerful, he exuded the cynicism of a man who’d seen every form of deceit. Perhaps if he weren’t watching her like a hawk outwaiting a mouse, her stomach wouldn’t ache so. She’d heard the League was composed of confidence artists and thieves, all reformed now, of course. But she hadn’t expected them to include a man with a badge.

That could change everything.

And the man sensed it. His casual pose didn’t deceive her. He was gathering up every crumb of information she offered. And many she didn’t mean to reveal.

Zadie continued to avoid his gaze, wishing she could dismiss his presence as easily. As if any woman alive could ignore that beautiful mouth, or the broad shoulders stretching his light wool jacket to its limit. But looks aside, it had taken her only seconds to realize he possessed the type of quiet confidence that made a man extraordinarily dangerous. He wouldn’t hesitate to toss her in jail should she give him the least opportunity.

But Aunt Margaret had gone missing, under the worst of circumstances, and Zadie had no idea where to begin searching. She could steal a diamond stickpin straight off a man’s tie, face down the roughest crew of smugglers, or authenticate an Egyptian vase at a glance.

But finding one slender, gray-haired treasure hunter had her at a loss.

As if she could read Zadie’s thoughts, Meena paused, teapot poised above a cup, and smiled reassuringly. “How can we help you, Miss Whitlock?”

It was a simple question, with a simple answer. As with most things in life, though, it was the part in between that was bloody complicated. Zadie returned the woman’s smile, pretending she wasn’t tempted to tear straight out of the building.

With a grace amazing in a woman so obviously increasing, Meena leaned across the table and offered Zadie a cup. She sipped the excellent Darjeeling and nodded slowly, buying a last few seconds before she had to make up her mind about confiding in this Restitution League.

“My aunt has disappeared.” The words rushed out before she could reconsider her course of action. “I have cause to believe she’s in danger.”

Meena stilled. “Surely the police could assist you?”

“They are investigating, but they’re not looking in the right place.” She gestured helplessly. They’d interviewed her several times since the housekeeper had reported her aunt missing. But she hadn’t volunteered anything that would really help. She didn’t dare. And now, with a detective looming over her, she was treading a fine line again.

Edison Sweet, the bear of a man sitting next to the typewriter, flicked a glance at Burke and snorted. “Now we’re getting down to it.”

The pretty blonde at his side, Briar Sweet, punched him in the arm. “Let her speak, you great lout.” Then she gestured at Zadie. “Pardon my brother. He often speaks without consulting his brain first.” She sent him an arch look. “Not that it would help.”

The playful banter eased the tension in Zadie’s shoulders. Still, the question remained: how much should she tell them? Too little information would hamper the search for her aunt. Too much could land her straight in jail.

Spencer Crane, a legendary thief in his own right, took his wife’s hand, twining his fingers with hers as he studied Zadie. “You said she’s in danger. What makes you so certain?”

Pain began to pulse behind her right eye. “It’s all rather complicated.”

Crane grinned wickedly. “Good stories generally are.”

Zadie risked another glance at the detective. His features were carefully schooled, revealing nothing. She sighed. “I came home two nights ago to find the house tossed and my aunt missing. The window in her study was open, and I found this.” She dug in her pocket for the emerald necklace and held it up for the group to see.

The Cranes leaned close, studying the way the gems shifted from light green to dark as they swung in the light.

“They’re exquisite,” Spencer Crane acknowledged. “Worth a small ransom.” He winced. “I beg your pardon. A poor choice of words.”

Zadie waved away his apology. It was nothing but the truth. “A large one, I would think. But their sentimental value is even higher. They were a gift from the love of her life.” She stuffed the piece back into her pocket. “I’ve never seen my aunt without them, but I found them wrapped around the fingers of the skeleton she keeps in the corner of her study. She meant for me to find them. I’m certain of it.”

Nelly, the little office girl, scrunched up her nose. “Wot’s she doin’ with a skeleton?”

“My aunt is a physician. Long retired, but she still sees the occasional patient.”

Briar Sweet straightened the sleeves of her severe black dress. “Whatever happened, she had time to leave you a sign. You said she’s a treasure hunter. Is she after something valuable?”

Zadie rolled her eyes, and immediately wished she hadn’t as a shaft of pain shot through her forehead. “She would say so, but I fear it’s a fantasy. She’s spent the last ten years trying to locate a lost Viking temple, but I doubt it exists. She hasn’t found so much as an old nail.”

Meena nodded thoughtfully. “But if someone else believes she’s on to something valuable…”

She shrugged, acknowledging the unspoken possibility.

Like a great bird suddenly taking wing, Burke pushed away from the wall and swooped toward her before perching on the arm of the other sofa. “But there’s more to the story, isn’t there, Miss Whitlock?”

This time, she met his eye. Determined to ignore the way her head throbbed, she forced herself to take another sip of tea. It was now or never. Take the plunge and hope he’d overlook her recent…activities…or remain silent and hamper the League’s ability to find her aunt.

When she considered it that way, there was no choice.

“Indeed.” She focused on the Cranes. “I suspect whoever took my aunt—or frightened her away—is after me.”

Burke’s warm voice sent a dark shiver down her spine. “And whatever you’ve done isn’t exactly legal, is it? Which means you’ve been less than candid with the police.”

Zadie raised her chin. “I suppose that would depend upon one’s interpretation of legal.”

“How about a magistrate’s interpretation? Would that do?”

Zadie clasped her hands in her lap, all the better to avoid smacking the smug detective across the face.

The rest of the group was quiet now, watching the two of them as if they were opponents in a boxing ring, circling each other, fists raised.

She clamped her teeth together. The thought of all that masculine power took her breath away. Why couldn’t he be a fellow thief? A minor lord? A fishmonger or a chimney sweep? Anything but a bloody crusher.

Burke cut in to her thoughts. “When we got your note yesterday requesting our assistance, we looked into your shop. You don’t sell stolen goods…as far as I can tell.”

“I don’t,” she agreed. “I sell Egyptian décor. Most of it is of modern manufacture, but I also handle antiquities. Only those of known provenance, naturally.”

The detective ignored her assurances. “You just said you believe your aunt was taken to get back at you. I doubt a customer dissatisfied with a reproduction bauble would go to such lengths.”

Briar Sweet thrust her finger against the haft of a fine throwing knife, sending the weapon spinning about on the desktop. “It would have to be someone very angry.”

“Or very desperate,” her brother added.

The weight of Burke’s gaze pressed down on her, but he said nothing, letting the silence stretch until it rang through the room, cold and accusatory.

Zadie stared back, unwilling to let him see the turmoil roiling inside her. She was at the edge of the cliff now. Nothing for it but to jump straight off and let the consequences be what they would. Her aunt’s safety trumped all. She took one last, deep breath. “I retrieve things,” she admitted.

“Ah.” Burke smiled, but it held no warmth. “The more valuable the better, I imagine.”

“Well, that’s no surprise,” Briar pointed out. “Who’d pay to get their dodgy old bric-a-brac back?”

Nelly sparked to life again. “It weren’t in the news, but my friend Angie swears the Templar’s ruby was stolen from ’er employer. Are you the one who got it back?”

Rather than answer, Zadie took a long sip of tea.

Burke crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think Miss Whitlock would care to answer that.”

“O’course.” Nelly ducked her head, but not before she sent Zadie an approving wink.

Zadie swallowed, trying to think her way through this tricky pass. If she didn’t admit to any specific crimes, Burke would have no standing to arrest her. Most likely. She cleared her throat. “Companies—legitimate concerns—hire me to retrieve stolen jewelry and art.” The smugglers and crime lords that availed themselves of her services needn’t be discussed.

“Fair enough,” Burke said, but she could tell by his expression he only half believed her. “But legitimate or not, the people you repossessed things from might not be so understanding.”

Zadie nodded miserably. “That is exactly my concern.”

Meena set her cup aside. “Is your aunt involved in your business?”

“No. As far as she is aware, my only source of income is Frobisher and Franks.” Despite the moniker, the shop was all her own. The imaginary male proprietors existed only to reassure the curio-buying public that two upstanding men were behind the venture. Even two years later, she still congratulated herself on the deception from time to time.

“And she disappeared the day before yesterday?”

Zadie nodded. “She was gone when I got home from the store.”

Spencer Crane glanced at the clock on the wall. “So it’s been almost three days.” He looks at the group. “The sooner we get started, the better.”

Burke slapped his thigh. “Miss Whitlock must have enemies scattered about Greater London. Where would you suggest we begin?” He tossed the question at Zadie.

Anger flamed in her chest, overriding her fear. She threw up her hands. “Isn’t that your job, Detective?”

Meena Sweet swirled the last bit of tea in her cup. “If someone absconded with Miss Whitlock’s aunt because they wanted revenge—”

“Or the return of an item she retrieved,” Briar Sweet added.

“Or that,” Meena acknowledged. She locked eyes with Burke. “Hiding a hostage is tricky business. The longer one keeps them, the worse the danger. If someone’s holding her aunt hostage, wouldn’t they have contacted Miss Whitlock by now?”

Burke gave Meena a smile so grand, it made Zadie’s toes curl. “That is an excellent point.” The grin faded as quickly as it bloomed. He turned his attention back to Zadie. “Though I’m not inclined to dismiss the idea completely.”

Though she prided herself on her extraordinary composure, Zadie’s cheeks burned. “Of course not. We should examine every possible avenue.” Even if it meant confessing to theft.

She straightened her spine and met his gaze, willing him to understand just how desperate she was to see her aunt safely home. Though she prayed Meena’s reasoning was correct. If Aunt Margaret’s silly treasure hunt was to blame, her heart could stop aching with guilt.

Meena and Burke traded a long look. She had the sense that her request hung in the balance. By the time Burke nodded, her fingers ached from balling them into fists.

He stood and planted his hands on his lean hips. “We’ll take your case.”

Relief propelled Zadie to her feet. Thank God. They’d help her. And Burke didn’t seem inclined to toss her in jail. Yet.

She nodded to each of the crew. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

Every one of them smiled back, except Burke. He was staring off over her shoulder. “Whether we’re dealing with a mess of your own making or not, I’ll need to examine your aunt’s study.”

“That makes sense. I can take you there now, if you like.”

“Before we begin, I have several conditions,” he said. “They’re nonnegotiable.”

“Of course.” The words tumbled from her lips, but inside, she froze. He wanted her to confess to the thefts she’d hinted at. She squared her shoulders and prepared to pay the price.

“You’re not to leave my sight,” he ordered. “I don’t trust you. I want you at my side for the duration of this case. And second…” He paused. The glint in his eye stole her breath. “You will obey my every order.”

Zadie nodded, but she couldn’t seem to form words. Too many naughty, delightful images were flashing through her brain. His too, if the current of energy crackling between them was any indication. If they weren’t in a crowded room, in the middle of the day… She shook off the enticing possibilities.

Besides, she had a stipulation of her own. “Agreed. But you must promise you won’t arrest me for theft.”

He hesitated so long, she worried she had overplayed her hand, but finally, he shook his head. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, telegraphing his answer. “I’m not interested in your retrieval service. I promise I won’t arrest you for whatever thefts you may have committed.”

The air left her lungs in a great whoosh. She grinned so hard, her cheeks ached. “Good enough.”

Burke ran a hand over his jaw, and suddenly, he looked disconcertingly tired. “I have a murder case I need to follow up on, but I should be able to collect you in a few hours.”

With her husband’s help, Meena struggled to her feet. “You’ll probably be more comfortable waiting at your shop. Briar and Nelly can keep you company. Henry can drive you. Take the clarence.”

The two younger women looked pleased with Meena’s suggestion. Zadie was too. The unexpected support left her lightheaded. And dangerously foolish.

She eyed the rugged detective. She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to know if the skin above the stubble dusting his cheeks was as soft as it appeared.

And why not? Her throat dry, she struggled to swallow. Once they got Aunt Margaret safely home, they’d never cross paths again.

“Thank you,” she said, and before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his cheek.

It was soft. Delightfully so.

She wanted to kiss him again, but even in her delirious state, she realized that would stretch the bounds of propriety beyond the breaking point.

She pulled away, steeling herself for his reaction. Would it be shock? Distaste? A whisper of disgust?

In the end, his response was far more disturbing. White teeth flashed in a feral, wanting grin that made her knees wobble.

She bit down on a surprised gasp. The man had a wicked, wicked center.

It was a good thing she had pressing plans. Plans that would see her halfway around the world once her aunt was safe. Plans that would occupy her long after thoughts of a certain police detective faded away.

***

Irritated beyond all reason, Caleb stalked into the study Zadie’s aunt used as an office, eager to find whatever clues he could. He needed to solve Dr. Whitlock’s disappearance and get far away from their newest client. Quickly. His sanity demanded it.

The hansom ride to her house had been excruciating. She took up too much space, too much air, too much of his psychical energy. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

She was a charlatan, an opportunist, and a stunningly attractive woman who wouldn’t hesitate to wield all the skills at her disposal to flummox any man foolish enough to enter her orbit. He knew the sort. She’d take on any job, with no regard for legalities, or her own safety, as long as the fee was high enough.

But then she’d kissed him. Caleb scratched his cheek. It hadn’t even been a real kiss. But it did make him want another, a deep, breathtaking kiss that would leave both of them gasping for air.

He jerked his head back, startled by the direction his thoughts were taking. He didn’t even like her. And yet that one feather-light kiss had sent him ass over teakettle.

Impatient with his own imaginings, he focused his attention on the room, straining to make sense of the scene. She’d described it accurately. Papers were flung about as if someone had made a hasty search. Before touching a thing, he stood in the center of the space and breathed. He couldn’t have articulated what he was after. It was too ephemeral to name. He only knew he did it at the scene of every crime. He wanted to see it as the criminal, and the victim, might have seen it.

And here, he sensed urgency. There was no blood, no torn draperies or overturned furniture. No indication of a struggle. Either Zadie’s aunt had been threatened with a weapon, or she’d fled of her own accord.

After waiting in the doorway, allowing him space, Zadie joined him in the study, moving close enough that her fragrance radiated over the few inches separating them. Sweet, with a bite of spice, it called to mind exotic locales shimmering with heat.

He clenched his jaw, willing away the distraction, and forced himself to focus on the room itself, soaking in the details, letting his mind imagine the scene. Like the other rooms in the house, it was tastefully furnished. There was the desk, of course, and the chair opposite, where he imagined her aunt’s occasional patients sat. A skeleton stood in the corner, suspended from a black wire stand. The skull regarded him with detached interest.

Zadie pointed at it. “That’s where I found the necklace.”

He stepped around the desk, careful not to tread on the papers littering the floor. She was right to dismiss robbery as a motive. Too many items of value remained in plain sight. Shelves of finely bound volumes lined the wall behind the desk, and a silver ink set and letter opener sat, untouched on an expensive-looking leather blotter.

Zadie scooped a blank paper from the floor and held it out to him. “Here’s something.”

He held it up to the light from the window next to the desk. A dark footprint covered most of the surface.

She picked up another sheet. “Here’s another.”

Caleb compared the two prints. “Same boot.” So they were after a single intruder. The lugs were thick, the heel worn almost away. “Work boots. Large ones.” He examined the rest of the papers but saw no other prints. “Do you have any male servants?”

“No.” She thought for a moment. “I can’t think of the last time a man was in the house, actually.”

He rolled the pages into a tube and stuck them in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Probably our intruder, then.”

“Oh no.” Zadie brushed past him to pick up an ancient book, its pages yellowed with age. “Her treasure map. She kept it in this volume.” She thumbed through the pages, then held the book by its spine and shook it. Eyes wide, she looked up at him. “She must have taken it with her.”

Caleb squinted at the bookcase behind the desk. Old books, new books, thick tomes, and sheaves of journals crowded the shelves. Clearly, only the one volume had been removed. Whoever had grabbed the book knew what they were after.

Zadie was right. Her aunt had probably removed it herself.

But had she been coerced? He refrained from voicing that dark thought, though the prickle between his shoulder blades didn’t bode well. If someone believed the treasure existed, a map could be worth killing over. “You’re certain no one else knew about it? Not the housekeeper or one of the maids?”

Before he’d completed the question, Zadie was shaking her head. “I’m the only person she confided in. She worried that it would put people in danger.” A pained look crossed her face. “I used to laugh at that.”

A pencil poised to roll off the edge of the desk caught his attention. He snatched it up and tapped out a rhythm on the blotter while he let his imagination sift through the evidence at hand. Best to start with what they did know…or could reasonably surmise. Whatever his motives, the intruder had rushed up the steps, kicked in the door, and barreled in. A glance would have told him the front parlor was empty. Less than a second, and he’d have been in her study.

Not enough time for her aunt to remove her necklace, grab a map, and get out.

She’d had some warning. But how?

The window.

The answer smacked him between the eyes. Zadie’s aunt had seen the intruder walking by on the street below.

He inched forward, gaze on the quiet view outside. “It was someone she recognized, or someone—”

“Who didn’t fit,” Zadie chimed in.

“Exactly.” He paced the office, clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s the only way she would have had time to get her map and leave you the necklace.”

Zadie seemed to be thinking through the scenario as well. “That makes sense.”

“But it’s not the only explanation that fits the facts,” he cautioned.

“I know.” She twisted her fingers together. “And it doesn’t explain the intruder’s motives.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He gave her a small smile, trying to ease her guilt. And then he thought of a marvelous distraction. “Are you up for an experiment?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Let’s assume your aunt was at her desk.” He pointed at the desk chair and pulled the drapes wide. “When you see me walk toward the house, pretend to grab the map, then put the necklace where you found it. I want to see if you can evade me.”

“What makes you think I want to try?”

The heat in those few words was enough to make him hard. Painfully, achingly hard. Despite their dissimilarities, their opposing temperaments and the way she was able to anger him with the smallest shrug, he smiled. Grinned, actually. “You should try, Miss Whitlock. Because when I do catch you, you’ll find yourself in more trouble than you can handle.”

“Doubtful, Detective.”

He laughed. There was no getting the better of her. Not with words, anyway.

He was still laughing as he hurried down the hall and out the door, shutting it behind him. Then he strolled off down the street. Not the way they’d come. He thought he’d try the opposite direction first. Her aunt would have seen them coming sooner from their original direction. He wanted to try this under the worst possible conditions.

The corner would do. He turned on his heel and walked back toward the house, careful to temper his stride. A seasoned criminal wouldn’t move too quickly…or too slowly. He strove to mimic the pace of a man with an agenda, but a man loath to attract attention.

He walked up the front steps at a sedate pace, then kicked softly at the broken door. Even though he barely brushed it, the door swung open hard enough to bang against the wall. He rushed in, taking only the briefest instant to scan the front parlor and the hallway toward the kitchen. It only took three steps to reach the study.

Zadie already had one leg hooked over the windowsill. She smiled at him, relief obvious in the set of her shoulders. “She could have made it.”

“Easily.” He crossed to her and held out a hand to help her back in. “It’s clear she could have—”

A harsh male voice called out from the pavement. “Hold it! Hold it right there.”

Two uniformed officers were rushing toward the house, followed by a dark-suited detective. Avery Pitcairn. The nastiest detective on the South London force.

“Miss Zadie Whitlock?” Pitcairn called out, loud enough to be heard over the cascade of footfalls behind him. “You’re wanted for questioning in the disappearance of Dr. Margaret Whitlock. It’s best for all concerned if you come along quietly.”

Holy blazing hell. He had to stop them. It made no sense, but the feeling was so strong, he couldn’t help himself. He had to prevent them from arresting her.

He yanked her back inside. “Do as I say. Exactly as I say. Trust me,” he whispered.

Her face pale, Zadie nodded.

He couldn’t turn her over. She hadn’t harmed her aunt. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. It was simply the way his detective brain worked. Bits and pieces of evidence coalesced into a larger picture. And the picture he had so far convinced him Zadie was innocent. Besides, if he was wrong, he could cart her off to Newgate himself. And he hated Pitcairn. A cruel little weasel of a man, Pitcairn took an outsized pleasure in the misfortune of others. Particularly women.

He couldn’t allow it. Which wouldn’t protect him from the consequences of what he was about to do.

He shoved his misgivings aside and greeted the ginger-haired officer. “You’re too late. I already have Miss Whitlock in custody.”

The shorter detective jerked to a stop halfway into the room, the whiskers of his large mustache quivering. “What?” He squinted at him. “Burke? Thought you worked out of the Yard. What the hell are you doing out here?”

“I am at the Yard. Miss Whitlock is a person of interest in a very sensitive case. I’m to take her there immediately.”

The man huffed. “More important than a possible murder? Her aunt is missing.”

“I’m aware of that.” Caleb pulled his handcuffs from his trouser pocket. “My case takes precedence. Trust me. There are people above me you don’t want to upset, if you know what I mean.”

Pitcairn’s cheeks reddened. “No, I don’t know.”

“Orders from the highest level.” Caleb tried to sound apologetic as he slid his hand down to Zadie’s wrist and snapped on the cuff.

Her gasp filled the room.

The other detective gave her a searing glare. “Did you know Dr. Whitlock’s solicitor dug up her will? Left everything to this baggage here. She’s the woman’s only living relative.”

“What?” Zadie gasped, earning her another angry look from Pitcairn.

His expression was still flat and cold when he turned his attention back to Caleb. “Didn’t mention that, did she?”

He laughed, but the sound held no mirth. “We had a bit of luck with that piece. The housekeeper knows the solicitor. Her sister’s his cook.”

He crossed to the window and squinted out at the street. “Where’s your carriage?”

“The driver’ll be right back,” Caleb lied. “Had to drop Morgan and Fitz at the Limehouse docks. We weren’t expecting Miss Whitlock to be here.”

Nor had he expected her to have such a strong motive to make her aunt disappear. Though the house was modest, it spoke of comfort…and more wealth than many enjoyed. His impassive, police officer’s expression firmly in place, he studied her, checking for any of the telltale signs of a liar. But all he saw was shock.

Pitcairn chewed the ends of his mustache while he ruminated. “Can I have her when you’re done?” he asked finally.

“I don’t see why not. As soon as the toffs running my investigation allow it.” Caleb snapped the handcuffs around her other wrist.

Pitcairn jerked his chin at Zadie. “Good. There’ll be plenty of time for us to chat once you’re locked up. Come on now, lads. Nothing else we can do here.”

Caleb waited until the lot of them had funneled out the door and back into their wagon before he allowed himself to consider what he’d just done.

Ruined his career, most likely.

Zadie turned her back toward him and wiggled her fingers, jangling the chains. “About these? You promised.”

Preoccupied with the weight of his actions, it took a moment for Caleb to process her statement. He eyed the cuffs. “I promised not to arrest you for theft. I never promised not to arrest you for murder.”

“That’s not funny. Take these off.”

It wasn’t. Not in the least. But the sight of her, helpless before him, chest heaving, lips parted, was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

He ran a hand over his mouth. Holy hell. He’d just tossed his career in the sewer, and all he could think about was throwing her on the nearest couch and undoing the tiny pearl buttons running down the front of her bodice.

Afraid he’d make good on his imaginings, he turned toward the window and watched the officers depart. “It’s not meant to be funny.” The consequences of what he’d just done certainly wouldn’t be humorous.

“Caleb, please?”

The catch in her voice pricked at his conscience. Whatever disaster he’d just made of his career, torturing her wouldn’t help. Old habit had his fingers around the key in his vest pocket before he’d even realized he’d decided to free her.

She evaded his gaze, but the strong pulse beating at the side of her neck and the way her breasts moved with the rhythm of her breathing suggested she didn’t fully trust him to unlock the things.

Nor did he. He walked behind her and rubbed his thumb over the inside of her wrists, tracing the delicate pulse. The skin of her thighs would be this soft. This warm. “I could renege on my promise.”

She shivered. “You wouldn’t.”

“How do you know? We’ve only just met.”

“I know you’re an honest man.”

Caleb snorted, trying to shake off her sensual spell. “Not all policemen are honest. Far from it.”

“You are.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but I can.” She tossed her head back, flinging a dark curl out of her eyes. “It’s your friends. The League. They trust you, and I trust them.”

But could he trust himself? Maybe he should steal a kiss before he released her. He considered it, thinking long and hard about how she’d feel in his arms, but propriety and a healthy dose of self-preservation won out. Toying with a woman as bright and sensual as Zadie might leave a scar.

And he had plenty of other things to worry about now. He jabbed the key in the lock. The cuffs fell away, severing the electric connection between them.

She rubbed her wrists. “They’ll be expecting you to bring me in.”

“I know.” He dropped the cuffs back into his pocket.

Something in his tone must have concerned her. She scooted back, just out of reach. “You wouldn’t.”

“Of course not.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I’ll need to explain why you’re not in custody.”

She strode back and forth across the worn carpet, obviously considering alternatives as well. Outside, the light was fading as afternoon slid into a golden autumn dusk. He’d be expected at the station before long. There wasn’t much time to lose.

And then he had it.

It was an idiotic idea, but it was the best he could come up with. He motioned her to him and spread his legs, bracing himself for what was to come. “Hit me,” he commanded.

She backed up until the bookcases stopped her. “This is no time for jokes.”

“Hit me,” he insisted. “Make it good.”

“I can’t do that.”

He caught her gaze and smiled. “There were a couple of times at the League you would’ve loved to plant me a facer.”

Her delicate earrings swayed as she shook her head. “I was angry then. This…this is cold-blooded.”

Still giddy with panic over what he’d just done, he grinned. “I can make you angry, if you like.”

She rolled her eyes.

He turned the side of his face toward her. “Hurry.” Before he came to his senses. Before he did the reasonable thing and took her to the station himself.

Her lips parted as she drew in a fortifying breath and then, before he had time to steel himself, she balled her hand into a fist and swung.

REJECTING THE ROGUE by Riley Cole

PURCHASE REJECTING THE ROGUE

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SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST by Riley Cole

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———————-

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

 

Riley has a long fascination with all things Victorian. She loves the peculiar mix of science, mysticism and innovation that collided in the Victorian Era.

To say nothing of bustles. Bustles and elaborate hats and parasols. Parasols for rain. Parasols for sun. And parasols that morph into swords…of course. 

Sadly, Riley has little use for umbrellas in the dry foothills of the Eastern Sierra, but she consoles herself with forest hikes and dips in cool mountain lakes. Besides—no matter where one resides—a proper cuppa never comes amiss.

If you enjoy a little high adventure—and a lot of desire—with your historical romance, delve into Riley’s version of late Victorian London.

Thieves, rogues, and love await…

For more information about Riley, please visit her website, “like” Riley on Facebook and follow her on Twitter. Sign up for Riley’s newsletter to be notified about upcoming releases. She’s loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at riley@rileycole.com.

Riley’s Jack’s House releases include Rejecting the Rogue and Seducing the Scientist from the Restitution League Series.

CONTACT LINKS:

Jack’s House Author Page |  Website |  Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads  | Newsletter

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HIS SCANDALOUS VISCOUNTESS by Sorcha Mowbray – Cover Reveal

Today we are celebrating the cover reveal of HIS SCANDALOUS VISCOUNTESS, the third book in the Lustful Lords series by Sorcha Mowbray. This book is a historical romance title from Jack’s House Publishing and it will be releasing on February 15th. Check out the pre-order links and blurb for the book below.

 

His Scandalous Viscountess (Lustful Lords, #3) by Sorcha Mowbray

Releasing February 15

PRE-ORDER NOW!

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Book Blurb:

Once upon a time, a boy and a girl fell in love…but prestige, power, and a shameful secret drove them apart.

Julia fled abroad after the death of her husband, Lord Fallthorpe. She has finally returned to England, but little has changed.

Except for her.

As a dowager marchioness, Julia lives and loves where she pleases. And the obnoxious son of her dead husband does not please. But what can an independent woman do? Why, create a scandal, of course!

Viscount Wolfington is no stranger to the wagging tongues of the ton. Between being a Lustful Lord and the scandal of his birth, he learned long ago that society had little use for him. So when he walks into The Market and finds the woman who once stole his heart being auctioned for a night of debauchery, he jumps at another chance to hold her–even for just a single night.

As Julia and Wolf unravel their pasts, will villainy win again, or will love finally conquer all?

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His Hand-Me-Down Countess (Lustful Lords, #1)

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Taming His Hellion Countess (Lustful Lords, #2) 

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——————————

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Sorcha Mowbray is a mild mannered office worker by day…okay, so she is actually a mouthy, opinionated, take charge kind of gal who bosses everyone around; but she definitely works in an office. At night she writes romance so hot she sets the sheets on fire! Just ask her slightly singed husband.

She is a longtime lover of historical romance, having grown up reading Johanna Lindsey and Judith McNaught. Then she discovered Thea Devine and Susan Johnson. Holy cow! Heroes and heroines could do THAT? From there, things devolved into trying her hand at writing a little smexy. Needless to say, she liked it and she hopes you do too!

For more information about Sorcha, please visit her website, “Like” Sorcha on Facebook and follow her on TwitterInstagram and Goodreads. Join Sorcha’s newsletter to be the first to hear about upcoming releases. She loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at sorcha@sorchamowbray.com

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter | Goodreads

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SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST by Riley Cole – Available Now!

Today we are celebrating the release of the second book in THE RESTITUTION LEAGUE Series by Riley Cole. This series includes REJECTING THE ROGUE and SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST and both titles are available now. Check out the buy links for each book below.

———-

—Meet the Restitution League—
They’re thieves. They’re rogues. They’re well-armed for adventure.

The crew of the Restitution League fights injustice while wrestling with love and desire and the occasional throwing knife.

One blazing romance at a time…

 ————————-

SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST by Riley Cole – Available Now!

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Synopsis:

 

A woman who disdains love collides with a man who lives for passion. Explosions ensue.

Ada Templeton believes in science. She believes in chemical reactions and experimentation and old-fashioned common sense. She’s far too clever to be seduced by a rake like Edison Sweet.

Con artist, liar, self-taught inventor, Edison Sweet, uses his hard won skills to help others. When he’s not saving unfortunates swindled by Victorian London’s criminal classes, he loves women. A great many woman.

Over Ada’s objections, Edison agrees to guard her latest invention from a mastermind willing to kill for it. He never expected to be intrigued by the lovely widow whose body he finds as exciting as her mind.

Their chemistry is impossible to ignore.

And impossible to trust.

Stalked by a brilliant killer, will they concoct a formula powerful enough to mend two broken hearts, or will love elude these two stubborn inventors?

Add SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST to Goodreads

PREVIOUS BOOK IN THE SERIES

REJECTING THE ROGUE by Riley Cole – Available Now!

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Synopsis:

Thieves make the best rogues. And the worst heartbreakers.

Philomena Sweet, Victorian London’s finest safecracker, knows it better than most. The worst rogue of them all, dashing jewel thief Spencer Crane, smashed hers long ago.

And now he’s back, fleeing danger from their past. Danger he won’t survive without her help.

She’d love to refuse, but she can’t leave him for dead.

Spencer Crane would sooner steal costume jewelry than ask talented, wickedly bright Meena Sweet for help.

But revenge stalks them both. He needs her artistry. She needs his skills.

Neither needs the desire that sparks to life between them.

While they dodge criminals, carriages, and the occasional flying cabbage, who will protect these two notorious thieves from each other?

Add REJECTING THE ROGUE to Goodreads

———————-

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

 

Riley has a long fascination with all things Victorian. She loves the peculiar mix of science, mysticism and innovation that collided in the Victorian Era.

To say nothing of bustles. Bustles and elaborate hats and parasols. Parasols for rain. Parasols for sun. And parasols that morph into swords…of course. 

Sadly, Riley has little use for umbrellas in the dry foothills of the Eastern Sierra, but she consoles herself with forest hikes and dips in cool mountain lakes. Besides—no matter where one resides—a proper cuppa never comes amiss.

If you enjoy a little high adventure—and a lot of desire—with your historical romance, delve into Riley’s version of late Victorian London.

Thieves, rogues, and love await…

For more information about Riley, please visit her website, “like” Riley on Facebook and follow her on Twitter. Sign up for Riley’s newsletter to be notified about upcoming releases. She’s loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at riley@rileycole.com.

Riley’s Jack’s House releases include Rejecting the Rogue and Seducing the Scientist from the Restitution League Series.

CONTACT LINKS:

Jack’s House Author Page |  Website |  Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads  | Newsletter

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REJECTING THE ROGUE by Riley Cole – Release Day Blitz

Today we are celebrating the release of the first book in THE RESTITUTION LEAGUE Series by Riley Cole. This series includes REJECTING THE ROGUE (now live!) and SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST (coming November 20). Check out the buy links for each book below.

———-

—Meet the Restitution League—
They’re thieves. They’re rogues. They’re well-armed for adventure.

The crew of the Restitution League fights injustice while wrestling with love and desire and the occasional throwing knife.

One blazing romance at a time…

REJECTING THE ROGUE by Riley Cole – Available Now!

PURCHASE REJECTING THE ROGUE

Amazon  | Apple Books |  Nook  |  KoboGoogle

Purchase in print on Amazon 

Synopsis:

 

Thieves make the best rogues. And the worst heartbreakers.

Philomena Sweet, Victorian London’s finest safecracker, knows it better than most. The worst rogue of them all, dashing jewel thief Spencer Crane, smashed hers long ago.

And now he’s back, fleeing danger from their past. Danger he won’t survive without her help.

She’d love to refuse, but she can’t leave him for dead.

Spencer Crane would sooner steal costume jewelry than ask talented, wickedly bright Meena Sweet for help.

But revenge stalks them both. He needs her artistry. She needs his skills.

Neither needs the desire that sparks to life between them.

While they dodge criminals, carriages, and the occasional flying cabbage, who will protect these two notorious thieves from each other?

 

Add REJECTING THE ROGUE to Goodreads

 ————————-

COMING SOON!

SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST by Riley Cole – Releasing November 20

PRE-ORDER SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST

Amazon  | Apple Books |  Nook  |  Kobo |  Google

Purchase in print on Amazon 

Synopsis:

 

A woman who disdains love collides with a man who lives for passion. Explosions ensue.

Ada Templeton believes in science. She believes in chemical reactions and experimentation and old-fashioned common sense. She’s far too clever to be seduced by a rake like Edison Sweet.

Con artist, liar, self-taught inventor, Edison Sweet, uses his hard won skills to help others. When he’s not saving unfortunates swindled by Victorian London’s criminal classes, he loves women. A great many woman.

Over Ada’s objections, Edison agrees to guard her latest invention from a mastermind willing to kill for it. He never expected to be intrigued by the lovely widow whose body he finds as exciting as her mind.

Their chemistry is impossible to ignore.

And impossible to trust.

Stalked by a brilliant killer, will they concoct a formula powerful enough to mend two broken hearts, or will love elude these two stubborn inventors?

Add SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST to Goodreads

———————-

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

 

Riley has a long fascination with all things Victorian. She loves the peculiar mix of science, mysticism and innovation that collided in the Victorian Era.

To say nothing of bustles. Bustles and elaborate hats and parasols. Parasols for rain. Parasols for sun. And parasols that morph into swords…of course. 

Sadly, Riley has little use for umbrellas in the dry foothills of the Eastern Sierra, but she consoles herself with forest hikes and dips in cool mountain lakes. Besides—no matter where one resides—a proper cuppa never comes amiss.

If you enjoy a little high adventure—and a lot of desire—with your historical romance, delve into Riley’s version of late Victorian London.

Thieves, rogues, and love await…

For more information about Riley, please visit her website, “like” Riley on Facebook and follow her on Twitter. Sign up for Riley’s newsletter to be notified about upcoming releases. She’s loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at riley@rileycole.com.

Riley’s Jack’s House releases include Rejecting the Rogue and Seducing the Scientist from the Restitution League Series.

CONTACT LINKS:

Jack’s House Author Page |  Website |  Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads  | Newsletter

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THE RESTITUTION LEAGUE SERIES by Riley Cole – Teaser Reveal

Today we are sharing a teaser reveal for THE RESTITUTION LEAGUE Series by Riley Cole. This series includes REJECTING THE ROGUE (coming November 13) and SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST (coming November 20). Check out the pre-order links for each book below.

———-

—Meet the Restitution League—
They’re thieves. They’re rogues. They’re well-armed for adventure.

The crew of the Restitution League fights injustice while wrestling with love and desire and the occasional throwing knife.

One blazing romance at a time…

REJECTING THE ROGUE by Riley Cole – Releasing November 13

PRE-ORDER REJECTING THE ROGUE

Amazon  | Apple Books |  Nook  |  KoboGoogle

Purchase in print on Amazon 

Synopsis:

 

 

Thieves make the best rogues. And the worst heartbreakers.

Philomena Sweet, Victorian London’s finest safecracker, knows it better than most. The worst rogue of them all, dashing jewel thief Spencer Crane, smashed hers long ago.

And now he’s back, fleeing danger from their past. Danger he won’t survive without her help.

She’d love to refuse, but she can’t leave him for dead.

Spencer Crane would sooner steal costume jewelry than ask talented, wickedly bright Meena Sweet for help.

But revenge stalks them both. He needs her artistry. She needs his skills.

Neither needs the desire that sparks to life between them.

While they dodge criminals, carriages, and the occasional flying cabbage, who will protect these two notorious thieves from each other?

 

Add REJECTING THE ROGUE to Goodreads

 ————————-

 

SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST by Riley Cole – Releasing November 20

PRE-ORDER SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST

Amazon  | Apple Books |  Nook  |  Kobo |  Google

Purchase in print on Amazon 

Synopsis:

 

A woman who disdains love collides with a man who lives for passion. Explosions ensue.

Ada Templeton believes in science. She believes in chemical reactions and experimentation and old-fashioned common sense. She’s far too clever to be seduced by a rake like Edison Sweet.

Con artist, liar, self-taught inventor, Edison Sweet, uses his hard won skills to help others. When he’s not saving unfortunates swindled by Victorian London’s criminal classes, he loves women. A great many woman.

Over Ada’s objections, Edison agrees to guard her latest invention from a mastermind willing to kill for it. He never expected to be intrigued by the lovely widow whose body he finds as exciting as her mind.

Their chemistry is impossible to ignore.

And impossible to trust.

Stalked by a brilliant killer, will they concoct a formula powerful enough to mend two broken hearts, or will love elude these two stubborn inventors?

Add SEDUCING THE SCIENTIST to Goodreads

———————-

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

 

Riley has a long fascination with all things Victorian. She loves the peculiar mix of science, mysticism and innovation that collided in the Victorian Era.

To say nothing of bustles. Bustles and elaborate hats and parasols. Parasols for rain. Parasols for sun. And parasols that morph into swords…of course. 

Sadly, Riley has little use for umbrellas in the dry foothills of the Eastern Sierra, but she consoles herself with forest hikes and dips in cool mountain lakes. Besides—no matter where one resides—a proper cuppa never comes amiss.

If you enjoy a little high adventure—and a lot of desire—with your historical romance, delve into Riley’s version of late Victorian London.

Thieves, rogues, and love await…

For more information about Riley, please visit her website, “like” Riley on Facebook and follow her on Twitter. Sign up for Riley’s newsletter to be notified about upcoming releases. She’s loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at riley@rileycole.com.

Riley’s Jack’s House releases include Rejecting the Rogue and Seducing the Scientist from the Restitution League Series.

CONTACT LINKS:

Jack’s House Author Page |  Website |  Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads  | Newsletter

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