on August 14th 2018
Purchase: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo
Come join us this week to discover more about each of the stories.
Wicked Rogue of Mine
Historical romance authors Scarlett Scott, Amanda Mariel, Gemma Blackwood, Dawn Brower, Ellie St. Clair, Tammy Andersen, and Jillian Eaton bring you a must-read collection of swoon worthy stories.
From the decks of a pirate ship to the ballrooms of London, the unlikeliest of pairings find their way to happily ever afters.
For a limited time, you can meet this collection of rogues from pirate Captain Edmond Grey to the laird Earl of Dumfries along with five other sexy heroes.
Tuesday, through Friday we will be learning more about the lovely stories.
Unmasking a Duke
By Ellie St. Clair
Heat Rating: 3
About the Book…
When the life of his brother is threatened, Lord Andrew Stephens must determine which of his enemies intends him harm. When Andrew takes the duke’s place at a masquerade ball, he meets a woman who takes his breath away and haunts his dreams. Arabella Marley’s father gambled away their family’s most precious heirloom and is determined she will gain it back for him, no matter the cost. He presents her to the man believed to be the duke, and she is shocked to find him both handsome and agreeable. She must guard herself against his charms to find her family inheritance and keep her heart intact. Can Andrew and Arabella fight the love that grows between them, or will the truth be too much to overcome?
“I must confess, you have the better of me, my lady,” he replied after a moment of hesitation. “For, of course, that mask hides a great deal of your beauty.”
Arabella tried to smile, ignoring the rolling ball of tension in her stomach. “You are too kind, Your Grace. Of course, no one could mistake your identity here.”
“Is that so?” The Duke sounded, amused and Arabella wondered whether or not she had identified the wrong man entirely. It sounded nearly as though he was laughing at her.
“You are the Duke of Elenford, are you not?” she asked, bluntly, cringing at her own forwardness. Time was not on her side, however, and she would not waste her time on a man who was not her quarry. Given her father’s demands, she simply did not have time for propriety.
He chuckled again, and then she saw a flash of understanding come over him. “Ah, you must have heard my introduction. Well, let us say that, for this evening, I am. I am the Duke of Elenford.”
Still quite unsure as to what he meant, Arabella frowned at his riddle.
“What do you m—”
“I can see your dance card is quite empty,” the Duke interrupted her, reaching for the card dangling from her wrist. “How could such an enchanting creature such as yourself be without suitors?”
“Perhaps I have been saving my card for you, Your Grace,” Arabella replied at once, glad that her mask covered her heated cheeks. “So that you may have the first choice.”
He held her gaze for a moment, his dark eyes flashing from behind his mask. “Very good, then,” he murmured, catching her wrist and picking up the dance card. “What a shame this does not bear your name, for I am still struggling to work out your identity, on account of the feathers!”
Arabella could feel herself blushing to the roots of her hair, embarrassed at his horrified glance toward her ostentatious mask. “That is the fun of a masquerade, is it not?” she said, managing what she hoped was a coy smile. “To do what one wishes without the risk of ruining one’s reputation?”
“Well said, Mademoiselle,” he said with a wink, and her stomach seemed to do a somersault. “Though I could say it is hardly fair as you have the advantage of knowing who I am. However, I am always up for a bit of a game. Perhaps I shall just have to spend more time in your company so that I might be able to identify you,” he murmured, writing his name into two of her blank spaces, one of which included a waltz. “You intrigue me greatly.”
“Th-thank you, Your Grace,” Arabella stammered, stepping back slightly the moment he touched her hand, shocked as she was at the tingle left where his fingers had rested, despite the restriction of her glove between them. “I shall look forward to our dance.”
My Enemy, My Earl
By Tammy Andresen
About the book…
Can two wounded souls find love?
Fleeing London, and scandal, Lady Clarissa Burton runs directly into the wife-hunting Earl of Dumfries while traveling on a rutted Scottish road. She wanted peace in Scotland, not a tall and brooding laird who makes her forget that handsome lords are nothing but trouble.
Having spent years of his life fighting English wars, Ewan McDougal, Earl of Dumfries, wants nothing to do with England, or its people, for as long as he lives. He wants a nice Scottish lass to warm his bed and raise a family. So why can’t Ewan stop thinking about Lady Clarissa’s pouty lips or her curves made for a man’s hands? And what happened to her in London that has her running scared?
Clarissa assessed the Scottish brute in front of her. She didn’t like him. Not even a little. It didn’t matter that he had brawny muscles and piercing green eyes. Or that he stopped to help stranded travelers.
First, there was the fact that he’d insulted her English roots. She wouldn’t even bother to tell him she was half Scot. Then there was the careless way his shirt was untied at the top, his overlong dark hair, his casual stance with one hand slung low on his hip to accentuate how much smaller they were than his broad chest. His red tartan exposed his knees in an altogether indecent way. His face had a rugged set, with his Roman nose and prominent cheekbones. Men that handsome were always up to no good. Past experience had taught her this and it was a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.
His strong jaw flexed as he gave her an assessing look. His interest was written all over his face. As if she’d needed more proof that he was a rake. She’d learn to spot the type anywhere, and now that she knew them, she vowed to stay far, far away.
But she supposed some measure of gratitude was in order. Trying to keep her disdain out of her voice, she mumbled, “Thank you for helping us, sir.” She gave a small curtsey and then started shaking out her skirt in an attempt to remove some of the mud before climbing back into the carriage. Fortunately, their exchange was nearly over.
“Ye’re welcome,” he answered in a deep rich brogue before stepping closer.
Without another word he reached for her skirt and she straightened, stiffening from shock. He wasn’t going to…he wouldn’t dare…but he did. He knelt down beside her and grabbed her skirt, and holding it out, began deftly removing the mud. “Sir,” she gasped.
“It’s Ewan. Ewan McDougal. Now turn.” His gruff words weren’t frightening. But her breathing was coming out in short gasps. The heat from his body had her own growing warmer. He started working on a new section of gown.
She stared at him unable to believe this was actually happening. As he spun her again, her foot hit a rut in the road and she bobbled, just a little. His hand shot out to her hip to steady her. An ache deep inside her throbbed at his touch. She gasped, her hands coming to his shoulders to right the now-tilting world. But that only made it worse. They were broad and muscular and for moment, she had the feeling they could shield her from the world. “Please stop,” she begged.
“It’s raining, ye ken?” He looked up at her as though she were dull in the mind.
“I am aware.” She tried to straighten her shoulders but the rain was worsening and they hunched back down without permission, curled closer to him and the warmth he exuded.
“Then turn around so that I can git the back.” He gave her skirt a little tug to turn her.
If you would like to win a copy of the set, simply answer the following question:
Describe your favourite rogue!