Spotlight on Alexandra Hawkins!

Two classic novels by Barbara Pierce, now writing as Alexandra Hawkins - released as e-books for the first time!

The No Good, Irresistible Viscount Tipton
By Alexandra Hawkins
ISBN-13: 9781466820975

Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Publication date: 11/1/2013

How can a man who is no good be oh, so right?

Fifteen years ago, a strange twist of fate made Rayne Wyman both the Viscount Tipton and a notorious outcast. Now a practicing surgeon, even Rayne’s own vow of revenge has not tempted him to reenter the polite world—and he is certain that nothing and no one ever will. Then he meets the young and remarkably lovely Devona Bedegrayne, who summons the temerity to knock on his door and demand his help.

Intrigued by her innocence, exasperated by her determination, Rayne never imagines the danger Devona faces—or the irresistible desire she will awaken—when he becomes her accomplice in a bit of very scandalous mischief. . .

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Here's an excerpt:

“Miss Bedegrayne, how do you know His Lordship will be this way?” Pearl whispered, close on Devona’s heels. She was determined not to be left behind.

“A simple deduction, really.” Devona tried a door, and peered within. Empty. She moved on to the next door. “This side of the house is lit up. Besides, the gargoyle went the other way.”

“Maybe the man went off to get his lord?” Pearl asked, growing more nervous with each step.

“Highly doubtful. He was about to throw a woman in pain out on the streets. We’ll be lucky if he actually went off to get a chamber pot. Ah-ha!” Devona froze when she noticed the shadow and light under this next door flicker. Anticipation bubbled in her blood. After all, it was not every day a lady introduced herself to a supposed demon.

“Gar,” she said, pitching her voice so the sound did not go beyond their small group, “you and Pearl return to the hall and await its guardian. Distract him if you must, for I will need time to speak with His Lordship.”

Devona watched the dance of light and shadows as it escaped from underneath the door. She had not explained to Gar and Pearl her reasons for seeking an audience with Lord Tipton, nor the dire outcome if she failed to secure his help. He would help her, would he not? She had never thought until this moment that she would fail. Sensing their concern, she glanced at her motionless companions. “All will be well, once I speak to Lord Tipton. Go ahead; I shall be fine.”

Without thought to the consequences, she quietly opened the door and blinked. What she saw within did not meet with her expectations. Why, the room was empty and . . . quite normal. It was not a large room, but it definitely was a male’s domain. The walls were a plain pea green; the only adornments were several landscapes depicting the changing seasons of country landscapes and a huge ornate gold-foiled mirror that was suspended over a chimneypiece of cream-colored marble. A welcoming fire beckoned her to enjoy its warmth. No dainty, fashionable furniture was displayed to impress the visitor. Everything from the old French upholstered rococo armchair, the oversized Hepplewhite library cases spanning the length of two walls, and on to the geometrically precise library table serviced its owner with efficiency and comfort.

Who was this Lord Tipton? She had gleaned every bit of gossip bandied about the ton, and none of it added up if this elegant, private sanctuary reflected the man she had been desperately trying to meet. Her lower lip pouted a bit as she turned this latest intriguing tidbit in her mind. So lost in thought was Devona that she failed to notice that she was being assessed as well.

A prickling awareness jarred her from her musings. Rubbing her arms to ward off an imaginary chill, she pivoted. Her gaze scanned the room again. There, in one of the shadowed corners, her gaze sought out, then faltered when she realized she was not alone. The mysterious Lord Tipton. This was the man the ton snidely called behind his back Le Cadavre Raffiné. The Refined Corpse. She doubted any of the fashionable would have repeated such an insult to the man’s face, if he had ever bothered to show himself.

She could tell even in the dim light that he was magnificent. Too fascinated to be wary, she took the branch of candles closest to her and brought the light to this man of shadows. He sat sprawled out in a corner chair, one leg propped up on a nearby chair while the other was bent close to his chest. His left arm rested casually across the surface of his knee. He held a smooth, flat stone between his fingers, which he slowly stroked with his thumb. Her attention caught the movement, and she stared at his long, elegant fingers. He had large hands. A long scar ran from his wrist to his thumb. He possessed the hands of a warrior, a man who had battled for everything he claimed, and won. The gentle stroking of the stone seemed contradictory and disturbed her on some level she could not define.

Lord Tipton cleared his throat. If it was her attention he wanted, he gained it. Her focus shifted to the thick column of his throat, then up to his face. What masculine beauty! It was a proud face, all chiseled angles that begged exploring. A day’s growth of beard peppered his jaw, and drew attention to his full, sensual lips. His hair, a blend of chestnut and honey, was unbound, and tangled over his shoulders. There was a distinct streak of blond or perhaps it was white that sprouted from his right temple. Someone had told her it was the mark of le compagnon du diable, the devil’s companion.

Wariness stiffened her stance as she realized the man was half-dressed. He wore a linen shirt, its only adornment four linen buttons to connect the front opening. His breeches were well made and suede. His shoes were missing! She could feel the heat in her face as she stared at his feet sheathed in silk stockings. She had never seen her brothers without shoes or coats.

Each studied the other; a unique male-to-female alertness had electrified the space separating them. Neither had said a word, and yet Devona felt threatened. She gazed into eyes almost the color of pewter, and she almost could believe the rumors about him.

“For a housebreaker, you aren’t a very efficient one,” Rayne said, finally deciding it was time to end the staring contest with his bold intruder.

 

Copyright © November 2013. Excerpt from THE NO GOOD IRRESISTIBLE VISCOUNT TIPTON by Alexandra Hawkins. Published by St. Martin's Paperbacks. All rights reserved.

*******

The Scandalously Bad Mr. Milroy
By Alexandra Hawkins
ISBN-13: 9781466820968

Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Publication date: 11/1/2013

Sometimes a scandalously bad man can be oh, so good . . .

Meet Wynne Bedegrayne—destined for spinsterhood. Her beauty and charm mean nothing when her intelligence frightens off every suitor, and even her charitable work with the Benevolent Sisterhood leads her into scrapes no sensible man would condone. Then Wynne finds herself the object of Keanan Milroy’s dedicated courtship. The celebrated pugilist may be lowborn, but his character is above reproach…and the passion he awakens within her is irresistible.

But when Wynne learns that Keanan’s seduction may be motivated by something less pure than desire, she resolves to teach him a lesson. If nobility is a matter of behavior rather than blood, then she’ll risk everything to teach Keanan that he is a gentleman at heart. And that nothing is more honorable than love…

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Here's an excerpt:

“Come, my dear Miss Bedegrayne.” He offered his arm. “I have a new friend who desires an introduction.”

Bemused, Wynne allowed the marquess to escort her across the room. Because he was a year younger than her, she considered herself quite safe from his favor. A man in his position would clearly require a young woman not quite so on the shelf as she was at three and twenty.

“Sir, a moment, if you please.”

It took all the polished skills of deportment she had learned at Miss Rann’s school not to gape openly. Seeing him again brought back the mortification she felt about that awful day near the canal.

Unaware of Wynne’s mounting horror and the fighter’s comprehending scrutiny, the Marquess of Lothbury made his introductions.

“Mr. Milroy, a pleasure,” she said; the words were false and he knew it.

#

Keanan credited her for handling what was an apparent shock. The tremor in her extended hand might have gone unnoticed if he had not been examining her reaction to him so attentively.

“Miss Bedegrayne.” To prove to them both that he could be chivalrous, he accepted her hand and bowed. “Rumors of your beauty reach beyond this ballroom. When Lothbury revealed your presence, I insisted on an introduction.”

The bland conversation seemed to steady her. The wariness had not left the cool, intriguing depths of her green eyes, but her bearing had lost that restless movement, signaling the need to bolt.

“You are most gracious, sir.” She took a deep breath; a nonverbal decision flashed in her expressive eyes. Swift determination set her jaw. Her chin lifted a notch. “Pardon my boldness, but I must ask. You seem familiar to me, Mr. Milroy. Have we met?”

Her daring, aggressive approach was most unexpected. For a lady who had secrets and a reputation to protect, she risked much in challenging him so publicly. His admiration grew toward her, even though he could not resist poking at her composure.

“Miss Bedegrayne, I can assure you, I would not forget such a meeting.” He intentionally held her gaze, wanting her to understand his warning.

Despite the orchestra playing just outside the doors in the gardens, and dozens of conversations continuing around them, he heard her small, startled gasp. She muffled the sound by nipping her lower lip with her teeth.

The action drew his gaze. The woman had incredible lips. They were neither thin nor too full. She had left them unpainted. However, their natural hue did not require artifice. Like morning dew on a raspberry, there was a sheen outlining her half-formed pout. A hunger rose within him that he had never thought possible. He fought against the demanding urge to claim her tempting mouth, wondering if she tasted as sweet as any summer berry.

“Miss Bedegrayne,” Lothbury interjected, breaking her gaze away from Keanan’s magnetic spell. “Mr. Milroy is relatively new to society. I doubt you would have encountered him unless you share an appreciation for pugilism.” He gave her a considering glance. “Perhaps one of your brothers?”

She was more than willing to give the marquess her complete attention. “My lord, both of my brothers are out of the country, and my father cares little for the sport. You are correct,” she conceded, looking at Keanan. “I can think of no situation in which we would have met.”

So she intended to deny the encounter. He saw no advantage to revealing her lie, so he smiled, letting her know he had teeth and could use them at any time of his choosing.

 

Copyright © November 2013. Excerpt from THE SCANDALOUSLY BAD MR. MILROY by Alexandra Hawkins. Published by St. Martin's Paperbacks. All rights reserved.




Learn more about Alexandra Hawkins and her books at her website and check out the Barbara Pierce section of her website here!