Review - - Would Like to Meet

PJ, here. We all make mistakes. Recently, I made one when I accidentally assigned this book to be reviewed by Hellie after already receiving a review of the same title from Maria a few months ago. I blame my mistake on the fact that I was knee-deep in packing when the error occurred. Of course, it could also be due to the fact that I'm old but I reserve the right to pick my excuses so I'm discarding that one and sticking with the packing. ;-) My amazing Dish team members were very understanding and so, today I bring you not one, but two reviews of the debut novel, Would Like to Meet by Rachel Winters. Enjoy!

Would Like to Meet

by Rachel Winters

Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons

Release Date: December 3, 2019

Reviewed by Maria

  

Can you fall in love like they do in the movies?

It's Evie Summers's job to find out. Because if she can't convince her film agency's biggest client, Ezra Chester, to write the romantic-comedy screenplay he owes producers, her career will be over. The catch? Arrogant Ezra thinks rom-coms are unrealistic--and he'll only put pen to paper if Evie proves to him that it's possible to meet a man in real life the way it happens on the big screen.

Cynical Evie might not believe in happily ever after, but she'll do what it takes to save the job that's been her lifeline . . . even if it means reenacting iconic rom-com scenes in public. Spilling orange juice on a cute stranger? No problem. Leaving her number in books all over London to see who calls? Done. With a little help from her well-meaning friends and the adorable father-daughter duo who keep witnessing her humiliations, Evie is determined to show Ezra she can meet a man the way Sally met Harry. But can a workaholic who's given up on love find a meet-cute of her very own?

Maria says...

Rachel Winters has taken rom-com to another level. Her debut novel features a creative, smart heroine, Evie Summers, who in order to save her agency, and thereby her job must convince an Oscar winning screenwriter he has what it takes to write a romantic comedy.

In addition to being a wonderfully descriptive book that puts the reader right into the crazy world of a British film agency, she is also dead funny. Seriously. There are sections in this novel that are laugh out loud funny. I don’t mean lol, I mean I guffawed.

It was almost as if I were watching a movie instead of reading a novel, complete with a unique set of “Bridget Jones-esque” best friends who pop off the page and take you on a delicious journey as you flip from one scene to the next.

The plot relies on the fact that the heroine doesn’t know she’s being duped, and while I wasn't 100% convinced of that through line, the author gives the reader such an amazing, curl your toes, rom-com ending, I went along with it. The story will take you to a happily-ever-after-ville, with all the wonderful 'will-they, or won't-they' in between.

This is without a doubt a book that begs to be curled up with in your favorite chair, with a cast of characters that will live with you long after you’ve read the last page. It's a fun contemporary romance destined to be on my keeper shelf.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Would Like to Meet

by Rachel Winters

Publisher: Putnam/Random House

Release Date: December 3, 2019

Reviewed by Hellie 

Can you fall in love like they do in the movies?

It's Evie Summers's job to find out. Because if she can't convince her film agency's biggest client, Ezra Chester, to write the romantic-comedy screenplay he owes producers, her career will be over. The catch? He thinks rom-coms are unrealistic--and he'll only put pen to paper if Evie shows him that it's possible to meet a man in real life the way it happens on the big screen.

Cynical Evie might not believe in happily ever after, but she'll do what it takes to save the job that's been her lifeline . . . even if it means reenacting iconic rom-com scenes in public. Spilling orange juice on a cute stranger? No problem. Leaving her number in books all over London to see who calls? Done. With a little help from her well-meaning friends--and Ben and Anette, the adorable father-daughter duo who keep witnessing her humiliations--Evie is determined to prove she can meet a man the way Sally met Harry. But can a workaholic who's given up on love find a meet-cute of her very own?

Hellie’s Heeds:

Imagine you’re me and you were around the last time Chick Lit was popular; and imagine you’re me and you’ve seen, owned, and/or randomly quoted every rom-com movie as if they’re roadmaps to love. You can see why I am such a fan of this book. This book is the love letter for all the lovers of rom-coms and are unashamed to say so. You’ll laugh at each of the meet-cutes that comprise the novel--because the entire book is based on the heroine reliving every meet-cute ever written--and enjoy how horrible they actually go. In the movies, meet-cutes are actually cute. In Rachel Winters’ book, they’re the stuff that make you notorious at the local coffee shop. 

Now this is not to say you need to go and watch every rom-com ever made to get the jokes. By no means. The book is a stand alone and if you had never seen a rom-com before, you’d simply think this girl has some awful luck. But if you have seen a rom-com or two in your time, it will make the experience that much more enjoyable, as if you too are in on the joke. 

It’s action-packed and light on sexual tension (since there are possibilities for more than one love interest), but it was a quick read and I could not put it down. I didn’t notice I was missing love scenes--if anything, it reminded me of the chick-lit books of old I really enjoyed. So...it’s very rated PG-13, even with the erotic book club fiasco and the roommate who has a different sex partner every night. 

Since there are a couple of possibilities as far as the love interest goes, I am loathe to explain too much more, except that the author picked the right hero. There was a time or three where I was panicked it was going in one direction, but eventually it came around to the right Happily Ever After. This book is going immediately on my keeper shelf next to the Bromance, and it’s going on my list this year as best books of 2019. I’m also adding Rachel Winters to authors to watch. Enjoy!

Review - - The Bromance Book Club

THE BROMANCE BOOK CLUB

by Lyssa Kay Adams

Publisher: Berkley

November 5, 2019

Reviewed by Hellie

The first rule of book club:

You don't talk about book club.

Nashville Legends second baseman Gavin Scott's marriage is in major league trouble. He’s recently discovered a humiliating secret: his wife Thea has always faked the Big O. When he loses his cool at the revelation, it’s the final straw on their already strained relationship. Thea asks for a divorce, and Gavin realizes he’s let his pride and fear get the better of him. 

Welcome to the Bromance Book Club.

Distraught and desperate, Gavin finds help from an unlikely source: a secret romance book club made up of Nashville's top alpha men. With the help of their current read, a steamy Regency titled Courting the Countess, the guys coach Gavin on saving his marriage. But it'll take a lot more than flowery words and grand gestures for this hapless Romeo to find his inner hero and win back the trust of his wife.

Hellie’s Heeds:

TLDR: Hellie says GO ORDER THIS BOOK NOW. If Hellie could have given more than 5 stars, she would have. 

In case you need a bit more persuasion, let me say this book has flown to the top of my 2019 Best Reads. It may even be in the top 10 of best books for the decade. It was so funny and emotional and clever, I could not put the book down. 

I realized this was SUCH A BOOK when I brought in the book to work and read parts of it to my co-worker, Unicorn, who does not read romances herself. But I’ll make her listen. One day I’ll get her converted to the charm and brilliance of romance novels. This book definitely tipped the scales to it being a possibility because even she was completely charmed by the diverse group of men who made up the Bromance Book Club. I hadn’t even gotten a quarter way through the book before I’d logged onto Facebook in order to be part of Lyssa Kay’s Book Club. But I was a complete goner when I thought to myself: this woman could give Julie Anne Long a run for her money when it comes to funny and heart-felt. And now that Jules has gone back to historical set funny and heart-felt, Lyssa Kay has come and created a contemporary world I can’t wait to read more of. 

Please, please, please tell me there will be a book for Braden Mack. A scene stealer of the highest order, it was a miracle Gavin (the hero) still managed to outshine him (which is hard to do when you have secondary characters who steal scenes--but Lyssa Kay handles it well.) In fact, I would love a whole slew of books about the men in this book club, or at least a hopeful trilogy. Gavin, Mack...and some other hottie. A nice hat trick, you could say. Excuse me while I spin in a web of reader speculation….

That aside, the modern day twist of a marriage of convenience (so to speak) where the husband needs to woo back his wife was absolutely delicious. The drama of the WAGs (wives and girlfriends) and their hierarchy was such a rich setting conflict to the storyline--and you won’t be able to help but root for Thea. If you’ve ever been in a relationship where you didn’t know yourself anymore--and you came to a cross roads to determine if staying in the relationship was worth it, this is your story. A hero and heroine to truly root for and adore. And obviously plenty of secondary characters to add hilarity and drama. 

Put this book at the top of your TBR pile. I would share favorite scenes with you, but there are too many and I don’t want to ruin the New to Me Experience of reading it. In fact, I wish I could read it again for the first time...it was that delightful.

Review - - Angel in a Devil's Arms

Angel in a Devil's Arms
by Julie Anne Long
The Palace of Rogues - Book 2
Publisher: Avon
Release Date: October 29, 2019
Reviewed by PJ

He has devil’s blood in his veins. At least, that’s always been the legend. How else could the Duke of Brexford’s notorious bastard son return from the dead? The brutal decade since Lucien Durand, Lord Bolt, allegedly drowned in the Thames forged him into a man who always gets what—and who—he wants. And what he wants is vengeance for his stolen birthright . . . and one wild night in Angelique Breedlove’s bed.

Angelique recognizes heartbreak when the enigmatic Lord Bolt walks into The Grand Palace on the Thames, and not even his devastating charm can tempt her to risk her own ever again. One scorching kiss drives home the danger.

But in the space between them springs a trust that feels anything but safe. And the passion—explosive, consuming—drives Lucien to his knees. Now his whole life depends on proving his love to a woman who doesn’t believe in it . . . because his true birthright, he now knows, is guardian of Angelique Breedlove’s heart.

My thoughts:

You know those books that fill you with pleasure from beginning to end; hold you tight until you've read the very last word, even if that's at 3:00 AM? The ones that leave you in a state of such satisfied bliss that it's a week - at least - before you can even begin to contemplate the thought of starting a new story? This is one of those books. 

Julie Anne Long is at her best in this newest installment of her The Palace of Rogues series, creating a story filled with heartache, humor, deep passion, revenge, redemption, sweet poignancy, reconciliation, and love. And all wrapped in the sheer beauty of Long's powerful, evocative prose. With characters brought to life in glorious, gritty detail. This one's a keeper and already sitting on my Best of 2019 list. 

I loved Lucien and Angelique. Both have been hurt in the past, both betrayed, and both very determined in the paths forward they have chosen. I love how they both evolve over the course of the story, how they slowly begin to shed their protective shields and open their hearts to one another. How the protector, and protected, ebbs and flows along the way.

The surrounding cast is rich in intriguing characters with the boarding house scenes, especially among the men, sheer perfection. I loved the friendship that develops between unlikely characters, leading to unexpected opportunities. The dispatching of the story's villain is brilliantly executed and the resulting introduction of a new character into Lucien's and Angelique's lives had my heart sighing with delight. I do hope he'll show up again in future books. I want to see this relationship - and this character - as they grow. 

While Angel in a Devil's Arms can be read as a standalone, there are many facets to Angelique's character as well as her friendship with Delilah and the events that led to them opening a boarding house near the docks that are uncovered in book one, Lady Derring Takes a Lover. For a more complete understanding, and appreciation, of Angelique and her journey, I recommend reading the two books in order. Like I'm going to. Again. 

Tour Review, Excerpt, & Giveaway - - Brazen and the Beast

Brazen and the Beast
by Sarah MacLean
Bareknuckle Bastards - Book 2
Publisher: Avon
Release Date: July 30, 2019
Reviewed by PJ

The Lady’s Plan

When Lady Henrietta Sedley declares her twenty-ninth year her own, she has plans to inherit her father’s business, to make her own fortune, and to live her own life. But first, she intends to experience a taste of the pleasure she’ll forgo as a confirmed spinster. Everything is going perfectly…until she discovers the most beautiful man she’s ever seen tied up in her carriage and threatening to ruin the Year of Hattie before it’s even begun.

The Bastard’s Proposal

When he wakes in a carriage at Hattie’s feet, Whit, a king of Covent Garden known to all the world as Beast, can’t help but wonder about the strange woman who frees him—especially when he discovers she’s headed for a night of pleasure . . . on his turf. He is more than happy to offer Hattie all she desires…for a price.

An Unexpected Passion

Soon, Hattie and Whit find themselves rivals in business and pleasure. She won’t give up her plans; he won’t give up his power . . . and neither of them sees that if they’re not careful, they’ll have no choice but to give up everything . . . including their hearts.

My thoughts:

What a wonderful, wonderful story. I couldn't turn the pages fast enough to find out what would happen next but, at the same time, I wanted to slow down and savor each delicious word. I guess I'm just going to have to read it again. And again. And again. And again. I cried. I laughed. I sighed. I cheered! This book is Sarah MacLean at her best and that is a very high bar. It's earned only my third Top Dish rating of the year and is on my Best of 2019 watch list. 

I loved Whit, I really did, and he and Hattie together are magic, but the heart and soul of this book is Hattie and she. is. everything. In Hattie, MacLean has created a heroine for every woman who, at some point in her life, has been told she doesn't "fit." Maybe she's too tall, too large, too smart, too loud, too ambitious. Too....whatever. I adored her. I admired her. I wanted to be her. 

In Whit, she's also created Hattie's perfect match. Covent Garden king, master smuggler, a bastard born, Whit is a man who rules his world, dispatching enemies swiftly and without remorse. But, he's also a man with deep, emotional wounds, a love of books, a well-hidden caring for those for whom he feels responsible, and a flaming desire for this bold, beautiful woman who eagerly matches wits with the master, who goes toe to toe with him on his own turf, who thrives on their encounters. (I spent most of the book alternating between wanting to hit him and hug him but at the end, like Hattie, I just wanted to love him.)

Other than Hattie's best friend, Nora (and please, Sarah MacLean, we need a Nik and Nora story!), Whit is the only person who not only sees Hattie's many positive qualities but values them. Values her. Their journey kept me flipping pages as fast as I could to see what would happen next, all the while knowing I'd be returning to the beginning as soon as I finished the book to slowly savor each delicious twist and turn the second time through. And speaking of delicious, these two have off-the-charts chemistry that had me reaching for a fan more than once, especially during one memorable scene on the deck of a ship, under a starry sky. Mostly, though, Brazen and the Beast had me cheering for an incredible woman who takes control of her life, celebrating her strength and her worth, fighting for her happiness, her dreams, for the recognition and responsibility she's earned, and standing shoulder to shoulder with the strong, caring, stubborn man who loves her not in spite of her differences but because of them. I have no doubt that these two will brilliantly rule their corner of England together as they go forward, side by side, equally matched, in life and in love.

As for me, I think I'll go back and reread both Wicked and the Wallflower and Brazen and the Beast (probably more than once) as I impatiently await Grace and Ewan's story in next year's Daring and the Duke. I can't wait. 

What was your last 5-star read?

What would you do if you found a bound, beautiful man in your carriage?

Have you read any Sarah MacLean books? Do you have a favorite series? Book? Character or couple?

Have you read Brazen and the Beast yet? Thoughts? 

One person who posts a comment before 11:00 PM (Eastern), August 6, will receive a print copy of Brazen and the Beast. (U.S. only) 

Brazen and the Beast

Excerpt

Chapter One

September 1837
Mayfair

In twenty-eight years and three hundred sixty-four days, Lady Henrietta Sedley liked to think that she’d learned a few things.
She’d learned, for example, that if a lady could not get away with wearing trousers (an unfortunate reality for the daughter of an earl, even one who had begun life without title or fortune), then she should absolutely ensure that her skirts included pockets. A woman never knew when she might require a bit of rope, or a knife to cut it, after all.
She’d also learned that any decent escape from her Mayfair home required the cover of darkness and a carriage driven by an ally. Coachmen tended to talk a fine game when it came to keeping secrets, but were ultimately beholden to those who paid their salaries. An important addendum to that particular lesson was this: The best of allies was often the best of friends. And perhaps first on the list of things she had learned in her lifetime was how to tie a Bosun knot. She’d
been able to do that for as long as she could remember.
With such an obscure and uncommon collection of knowledge, one might imagine that Henrietta Sedley
would have known precisely what to do in the likelihood she discovered a human male bound and unconscious in her carriage.
One would be incorrect.
In point of fact, Henrietta Sedley would never have described such a scenario as a likelihood. After all, she might have been more comfortable on London’s docks than in its ballrooms, but Hattie’s impressive collection of life experience lacked anything close to a criminal element.
And yet, here she was, pockets full, dearest friend at her side, standing in the pitch dark on the night
before her twenty-ninth birthday, about to steal away from Mayfair for a night of best-laid plans, and…
Lady Eleanora Madewell whistled, low and unladylike at Hattie’s ear. Daughter of a duke and the Irish
actress he loved so much he’d made her a duchess, Nora had the kind of brashness that was allowed in
those with impervious titles and scads of money. “There’s a bloke in the gig, Hattie.”
Hattie did not look away from the bloke in question. “Yes, I see that.”
“There wasn’t a bloke in the gig when we hitched the horses.”
“No, there wasn’t.” They’d left the hitched—and most definitely empty—carriage in the dark rear drive
of Sedley House not three-quarters of an hour earlier, before hiking upstairs to exchange carriage-
hitching dresses for attire more appropriate for their evening plans.
At some point between corset and kohl, someone had left her an extraordinarily unwelcome package.
“Seems we would’ve noticed a bloke in the gig,”
“I should think we would have,” came Hattie’s distracted reply. “This is really just awful timing.”
Nora cut her a look. “Is there a good time for a man to be bound in one’s carriage?”
Hattie imagined there wasn’t, but, “He could have selected a different evening. What a terrible birthday
gift.” She squinted into the dark interior of the carriage. “Do you think he’s dead?”

Please, don’t let him be dead.
Silence. Then, a thoughtful, “Does one store dead men in carriages?” Nora reached forward, her
coachman’s coat pulling tight over her shoulders, and poked the dead man in question. He did not
move. “He’s not moving,” she added. “Could be dead.”
Hattie sighed, removing a glove and leaning into the carriage to place two fingers to the man’s neck.
“I’m sure he’s not dead.”
“What are you doing?” Nora whispered, urgently. “If he’s not dead, you’ll wake him!”
“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” Hattie pointed out. “Then we could ask him to kindly
exit our conveyance and we could be on our way.”
“Oh, yes. This brute seems like precisely the kind of man who would immediately do just that and not
immediately take his revenge. He’d no doubt doff his cap and wish us a fine good evening.”
“He’s not wearing a cap,” Hattie pointed out, unable to refute any of the rest of the assessment of the
mysterious, possibly dead man. He was very broad, and very solid, and even in the darkness she could
tell that this wasn’t a man with whom one took a turn about a ballroom.
This was the kind of man who ransacked a ballroom.
“What do you feel?” Nora pressed.
“No pulse.” Though she wasn’t precisely certain of the location one would find a pulse. “But he’s—”
Warm.
Dead men were not warm, and this man was very warm. Like a fire in winter. The kind of warm that
made someone realize how cold she might be.
Ignoring the silly thought, Hattie moved her fingers down the column of his neck, to the place where it
disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, where the curve of his shoulder and the slope of…the rest of
him… met in a fascinating indentation.
“Anything now?”
“Quiet.” Hattie held her breath. Nothing. She shook her head.
“Christ.” It wasn’t a prayer.
Hattie couldn’t have agreed more. But then…
There. A small flutter. She pressed a touch more firmly. The flutter became firm. Slow. Even. “I feel it.
She said. “He’s alive.” She repeated herself. “He’s alive.” She exhaled, long and relieved. “He’s not
dead.”
“Excellent. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s unconscious in the carriage, and you have somewhere to be.” She paused. “We should leave him and take the curricle.”
Hattie had been planning for this particular excursion on this particular night for a full three months. This was the night that would begin her twenty-ninth year. The year her life would become her own. The year she would become her own. And she had a very specific plan for a very specific location at a very specific hour, for which she had donned a very specific frock. And yet, as she stared at the man in her carriage, specifics seemed not at all important. What seemed important was seeing his face. Clinging to the handle at the edge of the door, Hattie collected the lantern from the upper rear corner of the carriage before swinging back out to face Nora, whose gaze flickered immediately to the unlit
container.
Nora tilted her head. “Hattie. Leave him. Let’s take the curricle.”
“Just a peek,” Hattie replied.
The tilt became a shake. “If you peek, you’ll regret it.”
“I have to peek,” Hattie insisted, casting about for a decent reason—ignoring the odd fact that she was
unable to tell her friend the truth. “I have to untie him.”
“Not necessarily,” Nora pointed out. “Someone thought he was best left tied up, and who are we to disagree?” Hattie was already reaching into the pocket of the carriage door for a flint. “What of your plans?”
There was plenty of time for her plans. “Just a peek,” she repeated, the oil in the lantern catching fire.
She closed the door and turned to face the carriage, lifting the light high, casting a lovely golden glow over—
“Oh, my,” she said.
Nora choked back a laugh. “Not such a bad gift after all, perhaps.”
The man had the most beautiful face Hattie had ever seen. The most beautiful face anyone had ever seen, she imagined. She leaned closer, taking in his warm, bronze skin, the high cheekbones, the long, straight nose, the dark slashes of his brows and the impossibly long lashes that lay like feathers against his cheeks.
“What kind of man…” she trailed off. Shook her head.
What kind of man looked like this?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Review - - The Bride Test

THE BRIDE TEST

by Helen Hoang

Publisher: Berkley 

Release Date: May 7, 2019

Reviewed by Hellie

Summary: GO BUY THIS BOOK NOW. Now, now, now. Why are you still here? This is the most readable, funny, heartfelt, amazing romance you’re going to read this summer. And if you haven’t read the other book, THE KISS QUOTIENT yet, buy it too. Immediately. You may recall my feelings for THE KISS QUOTIENT (read Hellie's review)--basically the book was a unicorn, a beautiful magical unicorn. This book is the unicorn’s magical beautiful baby.

This is the book blurb, which I’m going to quote entirely: “Khai Diep has no feelings. Well,not big, important feelings like grief. And love. He thinks he’s defective. His family knows better--that his autism means he just processes emotions differently. When he steadfastly avoids relationships, his mother takes matters into her own hands and returns to Vietnam to find him the perfect bride.

“As a mixed-girl living in the slums of Ho Chi Minh City, Esme Tran has always felt out of place. When the opportunity arises to come to America and meet a potential husband, she can’t turn it down, thinking this could be the break her family needs. Seducing Khai, however, doesn’t go as planned. Her lessons in love work...but only on herself.

“With Esme’s time in the United States dwindling, Khai is forced to understand he’s been wrong all along. And there’s more than one way to love.”

I cannot decide which character I love more. I really cannot. Khai, who is a little damaged but a lot whole, who loves his family--though he’d never call it that--and who performs acts of service for those he cares for. He’s a little rough around the edges; he likes what he likes as he likes them (who doesn’t?). Esme is the ultimate heroine to root for: she’s brave, she’s smart, she’s willing to do what it takes to succeed and have the best life for herself and her family. All through this story I was rooting for Khai to figure out he loved Esme so he could save her, keep her in America, and have a happily ever after--but the author did so much better than that. I would say more--I would say everything--but I want you to read it and love it yourself. This book is everything that is right about romance novels and how they empower women and how they show the different ways we love--and how all those ways are valid and perfect.

Already--this book is barely out--I am looking forward to Helen Hoang’s next book. I hope it’s Khai’s brother, Quan. He’s a riot and he’s smart. But I will read whatever Helen puts out next: her writing bursts off the page and keeps you engaged until the end. I received this book in February--and I had other books that needed to be reviewed first--and I read this one first, in one day, and wanted to read it again. I think you’re going to do the same.

Today's Special - - The Bluestocking by Christi Caldwell

The Bluestocking
by Christi Caldwell
Wicked Wallflowers - Book 4
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Release Date: May 7, 2019
Reviewed by PJ

Gertrude, the eldest Killoran sister, has spent a lifetime being underestimated—especially by her own family. She may seem as vulnerable as a kitten, but given the chance, she can be as fierce as a tiger. Her adopted brother, Stephen, has just been snatched back by his true father, and she’ll be damned if she relinquishes the boy to the man reviled throughout London as the Mad Marquess.

Still haunted by a deadly tragedy that left him publicly despised, Lord Edwin holds only hatred for the Killorans—the people he believes kidnapped his son. And not one of them will ever see the boy again. But when Gertrude forces her way into the household and stubbornly insists that she remain as Stephen’s governess, Edwin believes he may have found someone madder than himself.

With every moment he shares with the tenderhearted Gertrude, Edwin’s anger softens into admiration…and more. Is it possible that the woman he loathed may be the only person who can heal his broken soul?

My thoughts:

I read a lot of books. Some don't work for me. Others, I like. Some, I love. Then there are those few that are special, that check my boxes, engage my mind, capture my heart. Those stories that pull me from my world into the world of the author's creation, fully immersing me in the hearts and minds of the characters - characters I come to know and love and wish I could meet in person. Characters who linger in my mind long after I turn the last page. Characters who, even as I read their final words, I know I will return to revisit, time and time again. This is one of those books.

Gertrude is one of my all-time favorite heroines, in the top 10 at least, possibly the top 5. Born to the streets, a throwaway scrap of humanity, she's never known true love, never been told, or shown, that she has value, never had a name until she was 12 years old. She taught herself to read then became self-educated. But she's never understood just how strong, or special, she really is. Until now. I adore her. She truly is a gentle warrior, filled with light, wit, humor, strength, and a very loving, and forgiving, heart. I want to hug her, laugh with her, encourage her and celebrate her.

What can I say about Edwin? My heart bled for what he's been through. He could have easily become an unlikable, irredeemable villain, closed off from the world, filled with cruelty, and bent on revenge. Actually, that's exactly what he's become by the time Gertrude invades his house but Caldwell has other plans for our hero. She understands that at his core, Edwin is a man who has become mired in his grief and guilt, to the point where he's lost the ability to see beyond it. Ever so slowly, she unveils layer after layer until both the reader, and Edwin himself, begin to realize there is still goodness in his soul. At the center of that realization is Gertrude, a woman he's spent years hating, though not knowing. It is her kindness, her daring, her stubborn determination that pulls him out of the darkness and back into the light. And into life. And love. There are many scenes in this book where Caldwell brought me to my emotional knees but the one where Edwin realizes the significance of Gertrude's tiny pet is especially poignant and his unique gifts to her fully illustrate how completely he has come to understand her; how much his heart is opening to her. Of course, there are still many obstacles, some of his own making, that stand between this couple and any hope they may have of happiness together. But the journey over and around those obstacles are part of what makes this book so satisfying. 

The catalyst who brings our hero and heroine together is eleven-year-old Stephen. Man, I love this kid. Caldwell perfectly captures the essence of his character, infusing the wiser-than-his-years cynicism gained through his time on the streets following his kidnapping with the well-hidden vulnerability of a child whose life has been turned upside down when he's taken from the only family he knows and returned to his father and his rightful place in society. By the end of the book, there are glimpses of the man he will one day become. I so want to read a story about that man!

~~~~~~~~~~~

You Might Be a Bluestocking If... 

with Author Christi Caldwell

In my newest novel, The Bluestocking, Gertrude, the eldest Killoran sister, has spent a lifetime being underestimated—especially by her own family. She may seem as vulnerable as a kitten, but given the chance she can be as fierce as a tiger. Her adopted brother Stephen has just been snatched back by his true father, and she’ll be damned if she relinquishes the boy to the man reviled throughout London as the Mad Marquess.

Still haunted by a deadly tragedy that left him publicly despised, Lord Edwin holds only hatred for the Killorans—the people he believes kidnapped his son. And not one of them will ever see the boy again. But when Gertrude forces her way into the household and stubbornly insists that she remain as Stephen’s governess, Edwin believes he may have found someone madder than himself. 

With every moment he shares with the tenderhearted Gertrude, Edwin’s anger softens into admiration . . . and more. It is possible that the woman he loathed may be the only person who can heal his broken soul?

Gertrude was such a wonderful character to write. She’s the eldest of her siblings and firmly on the shelf. She’s incredibly diverse in her strengths and in her interests and in the knowledge she possesses: it’s a knowledge that really is all-encompassing, spanning furniture-making to the care of animals to skills for surviving on the streets. In addition, she’s been responsible for educating the children in her family’s care, and what I found so fascinating is that she knows the value of education and what she’s been providing has been so important, and yet so many have failed to appreciate the power of her contributions.  

In honor of Gertrude, an intelligent, interesting, and ultimately irresistible heroine, I have written a short game of "You Might Be A Bluestocking If..." so you can test yourself to see what you have in common with Gertrude. 

• You might be a bluestocking if...you have more than one cat.

• You might be a bluestocking if...your hands are permanently ink stained from your writing.

• You might be a bluestocking if...you have an in-depth knowledge of ancient furniture design.

• You might be a bluestocking if…you prefer lectures to balls.

• You might be a bluestocking if…you would rather have a book in your hands than needlework.
• 
  

The Bluestocking 
Excerpt

Who was this . . . daughter of Diggory? The one few spoke of and about whom little was known.

Edwin pushed himself away from the door, and folding his arms at his chest, he took slow, predatory steps closer, walking a path around her. His earlier assessment in the darkened foyer of the woman had proven correct. Drab brown hair. Nondescript brown eyes. Of medium height, and in possession of a slender frame that left her cloak hanging unflatteringly upon her, there was nothing extraordinary about the last unwed Killoran. Which was no doubt why she’d not snagged herself a wealthy or powerful husband as her sisters had already done. At his lengthy scrutiny, she dared him with her eyes. And yet for her . . . ordinariness, there was a strength of spirit that radiated, casting a soft blush upon cream-white cheeks, that marked her as . . . interesting. She was interesting. He stopped abruptly. Seeing this woman in any light except the darkened one was a betrayal to his late wife and his children, both living and dead . . . and himself.

“I was clear with my demands. Get out now, Miss Diggory.”

The stubborn chit pursed her slightly too-full lips. “As I said earlier, you were less clear than you give yourself credit for,” she challenged, ignoring the latter part of his directive. My God, she is an insolent bit of baggage. “And my name is Killoran.”

The names were synonymous and interchangeable.

Edwin stopped before her so only a pace divided them. “And tell me, where was I not clear?” he purred. “Was it the part about making sure Broderick Diggory hangs, as he deserves, that was not clear?” The color bled from her cheeks. “Or was it my stated intentions for your sisters . . . what are their names? Ophelia? Cleopatra?” he asked, mocking that Shakespearean queen’s name, and the woman in front of him frowned deeper. “How . . . unfortunate it would be if their business ventures were both to fail.”

The young woman curled and uncurled her coarse hands at her sides. “Do not threaten my family,” she said coolly.

He’d hand it to her. She remained undaunted.

“Or what, Miss Diggory?” A muscle ticked at the corner of her right eye, but she did not rise to the bait, either. “Will you set my townhouse afire and attempt to steal my son . . . again?”

Her features leached even more of their color, leaving those previously blushing cheeks a ghastly grey-white. And for her earlier brave show, it was her turn to falter. “I didn’t . . .” And he celebrated that triumph over his enemy.

“What was that?” he barked, cupping a hand around his ear. “You didn’t what?” Destroy my life? Shatter my family? “Kidnap my son?” he settled for, refusing to voice aloud his greatest agonies before this of all women.

She flinched.

“Now leave, and tell your real brother if he violates our arrangement once more, using you or another one of your . . . sisters or his henchmen to do his work for him, I’ll take you all down.” His in-laws’ earlier recriminations flooded forward. It was just something else they’d been right about.

Edwin had stomped over to his desk when he registered the absolute silence—more specifically, the lack of retreating footfalls.

He turned back.

Miss Diggory jutted her chin up defiantly. “No one sent me, my lord. I am here of my own volition.”

He chuckled, that rusty, ill-used laugh more a growl than anything that could ever be confused with a real expression of mirth. No one came here of their own volition. As a rule, the world avoided him.

Shifting direction, he returned to the stubborn chit’s side, and leaning down, he placed his mouth close to her temple once more and fought the maddening pull of whatever damned perfume she dabbed behind her ears. “Do you think I’m foolish enough all these years later to believe a lie dripping off a Diggory’s lips?”

The young woman’s back moved up and down, an indication of her rapid breath. Of her fear. A lifetime ago, he’d have sooner chopped off his left hand than deliberately taunt a woman and take pleasure in her fear. No longer. That pathetic excuse of a man who’d gotten his wife and babe killed, and the other son snatched, reveled in this woman’s unease. “Hmm?” he prodded, and she jumped.

“I have no reason to lie to you, my lord,” she said calmly, and as she spoke, her breath, containing a whispery trace of honey, filtered from her lips and fanned his mouth. Another unexpectedly sweet scent, at odds with her past and name and sins. It enticed, drawing his gaze to her mouth and holding his focus there, mesmerized. “There is nothing I want, need, or desire.” She darted her tongue out and traced the plump seam of her lips. And God forgive him, his gut clenched. For even as self-loathing spiraled through him, something far worse, far more perilous and viler and more treacherous, held him in its snare: desire. “The only reason I’ve come . . . the only worry I had . . . was for Stephen.”

Stephen.

That single name, spoken aloud, snapped whatever siren’s trap she’d sucked him momentarily into. “August.” Had there ever been a doubt as to his insanity, this quixotic fascination with the woman’s slightly too-full mouth as she spoke was evidence enough of it.

She tipped her head, and one of the few brown strands that had managed a curl bounced at her shoulder.

Edwin flared his nostrils. “His name is August Rudolph Thadeus Stephen Warren, the Earl of Greyley.” He flicked a stare over her face. “You’ve no relation to him. He is His Lordship to you.” Stalking over to the front of the room, he pulled the door open. “Now that you’ve seen him”—he peeled his lip in a mocking sneer—“safely delivered to his rightful home, you are dismissed. You may leave now.”

Gertrude Killoran drew in a breath. “I am afraid I cannot do that.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And whyever not?”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I beg your pardon?” What more could she possibly want or expect of him?

The young woman clasped her palms before her, like a nun at the abbey. “I’m staying.”

Confusion rooted around his mind. “Staying?” he repeated. “Staying where?”

“Here.” She settled her features into a serene expression he’d have believed impossible for a Diggory. “Indefinitely,” she clarified.

Edwin rocked back on his heels.

My God, I’ve finally found someone madder than myself.

***

USA Today bestselling, RITA-nominated author Christi Caldwell blames authors Julie Garwood and Judith McNaught for luring her into the world of historical romance. When Christi was at the University of Connecticut, she began writing her own tales of love. She believes that the most perfect heroes and heroines have imperfections, and she rather enjoys torturing her couples before crafting them a well-deserved happily ever after.

The author of the Wicked Wallflowers series, which includes The Governess, The Hellion, and The Vixen, Christi lives in southern Connecticut, where she spends her time writing, chasing after her son, and taking care of her twin princesses-in-training. Fans who want to keep up with the latest news and information can sign up for Christi’s newsletter at www.ChristiCaldwell.com or follow her on Facebook (AuthorChristiCaldwell) or Twitter (@ChristiCaldwell).

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