This weeks featured book is
​NEVER TEMPT A ROGUE
by Christy Carlyle
​
​An infamous rogue meets his match in a feisty chaperone who has all but given up on love.
 
Felicity Beckett’s uncle has tasked her with one goal for Lord and Lady Forsythe’s country house party. Keep her innocent cousin away from the notorious rake, Lord Lindsay. The man’s Rogue’s Rulebook has earned him the most scandalous of reputations, but no one warned Felicity how irresistible a rogue can be.
Alex Evering, Lord Lindsay, agrees to attend his aunt and uncle’s party for a bit of enjoyment before embracing the duties of his newly inherited title, but he loathes their scheme to redeem his reputation and marry him off to a proper young lady—until he meets Miss Beckett.
 
Excerpt 
 
“Lord Lindsay, there will be no more of these. If you send any further unwanted communications, I will tell Lord and Lady Forsythe of your outrageous behavior.”
 
He was surprised she could say so much when fury stiffened every line of her body.
Perhaps he was as debauched as he pretended to be in The Rogues’ Rulebook, because her ire aroused him. He liked the way it made her lips quiver and infused her cheeks with blood. When her eyes sparked, he could smell anger curling off her like the burn of an electric charge after a lightning storm.
 
“I have no idea who sent that or what it says.” He didn’t need to examine the folded missive to know it had nothing to do with him. “I assure you, I’ve only arrived half an hour ago and spent much of that time on this balcony. I haven’t sent a note to anyone.”
 
She faltered, her sensual mouth quivering even more in her uncertainty. A mad impulse made him want to claim those lips, use her trembling moment of doubt to break through her fury. Now, when he might taste all that passion.
 
Unfolding the letter in her hands, she held it up in front of him, a wall of paper between them.
 
“Is that not your initial? Signed with an L. That’s you.”
 
“It is not. My name is Alexander, though my friends call me Alex.” He tipped his head toward her and caught a whiff of vanilla. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume we’ll become friends. You may call me Alex.”
 
He’d never been more eager to hear a woman say his name, to watch her mouth form the word, her pink tongue playing over the syllables. A wave of lust rocked him as he considered what else he could teach her to do with her tongue.
 
She glanced at the paper in her hand and then up at him, studying his face as if attempting to decide whether or not he could be trusted.
 
“What’s your name?” He knew enough of decorum to realize their whole encounter was inappropriate, but he was damn well going to know her name. She was the first indication that coming to his aunt’s house party might have been a good decision.
 
“My name is irrelevant, my lord.”
​
“I’m very sorry to hear that. Your parents were cruel to name you such a thing. A lady like you deserves a much prettier name.” He couldn’t resist teasing her. Later he’d be a gentleman, perhaps even apologize for his behavior, but now, when this woman stood looking at him as if she’d like his head on a spike, he could only think of ways to make her eyes to flare again.
 
“My name,” she bit out, her straight white teeth clenched in a grimace, “is Felicity Beckett.”
 
Laughter rumbled up his chest. “Felicity?” He looked at her lovely flushed face and roared with mirth. He hadn’t laughed in six months, and it felt freeing and glorious. “You do know what that word means, don’t you?”
 
She scowled. “I assure you I am very happy when men like you don’t provoke me.”

 

ONCE UPON A KISS
Gladiators, cowboys, knights, dukes, princes and rogues. The heroes we love all in one set.
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MZA76O4
B&N http://tinyurl.com/hkwr58a
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/love-historicals-presents-once-upon-a-kiss
iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1195459460
​

This week's featured book is
PRESENTING LADY GUS
By Sydney Jane Baily

​Augusta Brenville needs a husband, preferably a wealthy one, to save her beloved estate. Unfortunately, holding onto her inheritance seems impossible when nary a suitor remains standing, nor alive for that matter. That is until a seasoned captain arrives, daring and intrepid . . . and a tad uncivilized for the lady’s liking.
 
For the sake of owning Thornbury Castle, Captain Rolf is willing to marry its rather awkward yet endearing mistress, regardless of her penniless state. First, however, he must thwart an assassin with a penchant for poison, fire, and arrows. Can he keep both himself and his betrothed alive until their wedding day?
 
Excerpt
 
Augusta sighed. So much for first impressions. She knew she looked ridiculous now and momentarily considered whether to pull the rest of her pins out and wear her hair all unfashionably down or try to put the three errant locks back up? Before she could make more of a mess, Millie had pinned her curls to resemble the rest of her hairstyle.
To top it off, Augusta’s knees stung terribly where they had come in crushing contact with the stone walkway. At least her future husband now knew what to expect in the way of beauty and grace.
Her husband! She raised her eyes to him. He was tall, as a royal army officer should be. He was young, too, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties--praise be, she muttered. He was not ugly, nor did he look cruel. He was, however, dirty—extremely so. His hair, which hung long around his neck, was coated with dust from the journey and his face was smeared with grime, as were his worn clothes. Not at all what she’d hoped from a wealthy suitor.
Why had he not bathed at an inn the night before or at least stopped to wash in one of the many streams round about the area? For certainly, by the look of his wet pants, he had crossed a few on horseback. At the very least, he could have spat on a cloth and wiped his face.
Still, she smiled as he took her hand. She looked down to see how her hand looked in his and was shocked to see black under his fingernails. She swallowed and looked up at his face. It was pleasant, even handsome under the grime, she reminded herself. She heard Rolf clear his throat.
“Lady Brenville, reports of your beauty and charm do not do you justice.”
She couldn’t stifle the laugh. It broke from her, and she nearly choked. Poor man, what a thing to say, clearly rehearsed and so demonstrably wrong. As if anyone had ever reported anything of her beauty and charm. She laughed until tears came to her eyes. He was nervous, too, she realized. What a relief.
Rolf looked disconcertedly toward her father, who merely shrugged, hardly helping with his round face in a false smile. Finally, it appeared that Rolf understood he had not offended her, and he smiled too.
Augusta’s laughter died instantly. Buggers! She couldn’t help but stare at the dark hole where a tooth should be. At least it was not right in the front of his mouth. Some might view the gap on the left of his smile as quite dashing. And most likely, she consoled herself, he could whistle well.