The randomly chosen winner of
a print copy of
A Duke Worth Fighting For by Christina Britton is:
Annmarie Weeks
Congratulations!
Please send your full name and mailing address to:
theromancedish (at) gmail (dot) com
The randomly chosen winner of
a print copy of
A Duke Worth Fighting For by Christina Britton is:
Annmarie Weeks
Congratulations!
Please send your full name and mailing address to:
theromancedish (at) gmail (dot) com
The randomly chosen winner of a signed, print ARC of
Just Make Believe by Maggie Robinson is:
Glenda
Congratulations!
Please send your full name and mailing address to:
theromancedish (at) gmail (dot) com
Lady Adelaide Compton had prepared herself to say goodbye forever to Detective Inspector Devenand Hunter. It would be a welcome relief not to get mixed up in any more murders, even if it meant never working alongside the handsome detective again...wouldn't it?
But then Addie's prim and proper mother, Constance, the Dowager Marchioness of Broughton, is accused of murdering her secret lover, and there can't be enough gentlemen detectives on hand to find the truth. The dead Duke of Rufford appeared to lead a blameless life, but appearances can be deceiving. And unless Addie and Dev work together, Constance will hang—which is no one's idea of a happy ending.
Damn damn damn. Addie hoped for help, but it seemed she had to do this on her own. Leaving Mr. Reeves-Smith to enjoy his tea, biscuits, and integrity, she stood in line before the registration desk in the crowded lobby like any ordinary person. A young man beckoned her forward, and she approached.
Addie smiled brightly, crossing her fingers behind her back. “Good afternoon. Is Graf von Mayr in? We had, um, an appointment, but I’m afraid I mixed up the time.”
The desk clerk picked up the house phone. “Allow me to check for you, madam. Who may I say is calling?”
“Uh, Miss Beckett. Maeve Rose Beckett.” Cee was not the only sister who could pose as a maid. She would tell von Mayr who she really was at once if he came down to meet her. She stopped herself from tapping her gloved fingers on the veined marble counter as the clerk turned away from her.
His conversation was remarkably brief. “You’re to go straight up, Miss Beckett.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Graf von Mayr is expecting you.”
“He is?”
The clerk nodded. “As per usual. Do you remember the room number?”
“I’m afraid it’s slipped m-my m-mind,” Addie stuttered.
“Room 348. The lifts are that way.”
“Thank you.” Obviously there was some mistake, but Addie was not going to argue. She dodged a bellhop with a pyramid of luggage, entered the lift, and told the operator the floor number.
The doors opened. “Three four eight. Three four eight,” she muttered to herself, noting she had a fair walk on the floral carpet ahead of her. With each step, the butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She slowed her pace a bit, mustering calm. She wasn’t here to accuse von Mayr of killing his father-in-law, just to gather information. She hoped Mr. Hunter would come to Mount Street tonight and they could compare notes.
If she survived the next fifteen minutes.
She arrived at the correct door and raised a fist to knock. Before she could, it was opened by a tall, extremely handsome blond gentleman with a dashing dueling scar slashed across his right check. He was wearing…absolutely nothing. Addie took a step backward and closed her eyes.
The desire to scream—or flee—was powerful.
That simply wouldn’t do.
He was still naked when she looked at him again, and frowning. “Du bist nicht, Rosie.” He pronounced the name with a soft c sound as opposed to a z.
Addie noted that this Rosie was a “du” and not a “Sie” to him, familiar or beneath him in social standing. She struggled to keep her eyes on the scar, shining silver on his tanned cheek. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding,” she croaked. All her mother’s deportment lessons had not prepared her for nude men in hotels. In fact, Lady Broughton would probably not approve of Addie going to a strange man’s room under any circumstances, even if it might exonerate her.
“Ach, well.” He looked her up and down, and Addie felt as if she was the naked one. “Come through.” Come true. “You will do.”
She certainly would not. But the graf pulled her in by an elbow and shut the door. “Is Rosie unwell?”
His English was excellent except for his difficulty with “th,” so Addie presumed he would understand that whatever arrangement he had with Rosie, it definitely did not apply to her.
She clutched her bag tightly to her bosom. “Forgive me. I’m afraid I’ve gained entry under false pretenses. If you’ll permit me to explain—”
He moved to a fully stocked drinks table, and Addie noted that his bottom was as firm as the rest of him. It came as somewhat of a belated shock to her that she’d only ever seen one man completely undressed. There had been museum trips, of course, but that was not quite the same thing. No artwork hanging on a wall or standing on a plinth conveyed such smoothness of skin, the musculature beneath, the patches of golden fur. And none Addie ever encountered were blessed with von Mayr’s considerable male protuberance, which in her opinion would require two or more large fig leaves for a semblance of decency. Goodness, this detecting business certainly was expanding her horizons at a rapid clip.
He poured himself a whisky and added a splash of soda. “Your colleague and I have agreed to terms. Do not think because I am a foreigner that you can take advantage. Shake me down, as it were. I went to Eton College.”
Bully for him. “I am not what—um, who—you think I am.” Should Addie be offended to be taken for a woman of easy virtue? A—a—courtesan? Her charming Reboux hat cost the earth, and the Lord knew the buttercup-yellow dress was not cheap. But perhaps real money could be made in the oldest profession if one had the appropriate clientele.
The drink stopped midway to his lips. “Gott in Himmel! You are not one of those bloody reporters, are you?” He put the glass down, snatched a decorative jacquard pillow from the sofa, and held it strategically in front of the von Mayr family jewels.
Addie felt a brief stab of disappointment that her education was being curtailed. “Oh, no! Nothing like that. I had hoped Mr. Reeves-Smith—the Savoy’s manager, you know—might introduce us, but I was unsuccessful in persuading him. I’m so sorry I gave a false name to the clerk, but I thought if you knew who I really was, you might not agree to see me.”
“Who the devil are you, woman?” His face paled. “Wait! Did my wife send you?”
She saw a narrow avenue open. What had Mr. Hunter said? They had to redraw the map. She’d acted in a handful of school plays at Cheltenham Ladies’ College. Perhaps it was better not to tell him who she was. She was a terrible liar, but if she was playing a part…
Addie tutted and shook her head sadly. “Poor dear Penny. I don’t know what I shall tell her about all this.”
If possible, he grew paler. “Wait right there. Do not move,” the graf ordered. He nearly ran to the door that closed off the bedroom from the drawing room, slamming it behind him.
He couldn’t mean that she should actually stand in place while he slipped into something less comfortable, and in truth, her knees were knocking a little at her brazen scheme. Addie dropped into a wing chair in front of a fireplace that was filled with fragrant flowers. The room was beautifully appointed; she’d expect nothing less at the Savoy. The soft furnishings were a soothing combination of cream, ecru, and ivory, which must be a challenge for the housekeeping staff to maintain. She certainly had regrets regarding the décor at Mount Street, which was altogether too fashionably white and caused Beckett to complain endlessly.
Clad in a striped silk robe, the Austrian emerged from the bedchamber sooner than Addie expected. She had hoped he would come out in a suit, for it would be easier to be businesslike. The man was still barefoot, for heaven’s sake.
He picked up his abandoned drink and swallowed it in one go. “Explain yourself.”
“It’s you who needs to explain. I thought you were trying to reunite with Penny,” Addie said, conjuring up her old governess and giving him a stern look.
“Are you from an inquiry agency? How much is she paying you?”
“Certainly not! Please sit down, Graf von Mayr. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”
He continued to loom over her. “Blackmail so you won’t tattle on me? What kind of friend are you? I have nothing to hide. Nothing. Rosie is my, uh, masseuse. Our afternoon appointments are all perfectly innocent. My war wound is a constant bother.” He rubbed a silk-covered shoulder for emphasis, but Addie wasn’t fooled. Rosie was no doubt skilled at rubbing everything.
~~~~~~~~~~~
After a childhood spent cavorting around Europe with a dangerous crowd, Miss Isobel Tinker has parlayed her experience and language skills into a safe, reliable life. Working as a clerk in Mayfair’s Everland Travel Shop, she dreams of someday owning her own travel agency and has vowed never to leave the familiar shores of England ever again. When a handsome duke arrives at her doorstep, she realizes her staid existence is about to take flight.
…is faith and hope
Jason “North” Beckett, the Duke of Northumberland, desperately needs a travel guide. He’s inherited a dukedom but has a final mission for the Foreign Office—rescuing his wayward cousin from Nordic pirates. Isobel Tinker is the ideal translator, discreet and unknown, but she’s also uncooperative, stubborn, and disarmingly beautiful.
And a little bit of trust
In exchange for her help, North promises Miss Tinker her own travel agency upon return and strict professionalism at sea. Isobel cautiously agrees but soon realizes “strict” and “professional” are not how she would describe her feelings for the irresistible duke. As their adventure sweeps them to the shores of Iceland and beyond, can temptation and growing trust give way to the magic of wild, passionate love?
PJ's Thoughts:
Maybe it's because Peter Pan was my favorite holiday television special when I was a child, or because I couldn't get enough of Disney's Peter Pan's Flight ride that carried me off into the magical world of Neverland. Maybe it's because I was thoroughly captivated the first time I saw Tinkerbell sweep through the night sky, sprinkling fairy dust as she flew overhead. Or maybe it all comes down to Charis Michaels' charismatic writing and spellbinding storytelling. Whatever the reason, once I started reading this fresh, original, and thoroughly entertaining historical romance inspired by Tinkerbell and other characters from Peter Pan, I couldn't put it down. Michaels snagged my interest almost immediately, then took me on a twisty adventure from England to Iceland and back again, weaving together an unlikely romance between two intriguing characters. Is it a bit over the top at times? Yes. Did I care? Not in the least.
Isobel and North are both fully fleshed characters whose personalities and back stories gradually unfurl as their journey progresses. I love that both of them turn out to be so much more complex than they seem at first appearance, with intriguing layers as well as surprising strengths and weaknesses, and a few twists I wasn't expecting. The chemistry between them sparks almost immediately, leading to wonderfully delicious friction, tension, and snappy banter. No easy road for these two but what a fun, adventure-filled, and thoroughly satisfying journey.
The nods to elements from Peter Pan, seamlessly woven into the story, felt like a delightful gift each and every time I stumbled upon them. And the characters inspired by Peter, Hook, Tinkerbell and more, while all true to their time, place, and part in this story, still honored those earlier characters from whom many of their characteristics were taken.
You know those books that charm you, enthrall you, and make your heart flutter with glorious butterflies? This is one of those books. It's an adventurous, heartwarming, happily ever after that pays homage to one of my favorite characters who never got a happy ending - until now - in a way that made me laugh, cheer, sigh, cheer some more, and pretty much grin from beginning to end. It's going straight to my keeper shelf where it's destined to become one of my comfort reads, a story I can revisit whenever I need an infusion of joy.
Four years ago, Sylvie Fairchild charmed the world as a contestant
on the hit baking show, Operation Cake. Her ingenious creations captivated
viewers and intrigued all but one of the judges, Dominic De Vere. When Sylvie's
unicorn cake went spectacularly sideways, Dominic was quick to vote her off the
show. Since then, Sylvie has used her fame to fulfill her dream of opening a
bakery. The toast of Instagram, Sugar Fair has captured the attention of the
Operation Cake producers…and a princess.
Set…
Dominic is His Majesty the King’s favorite baker and a veritable
British institution. He’s brilliant, talented, hard-working. And an icy,
starchy grouch. Learning that Sylvie will be joining him on the Operation Cake
judging panel is enough to make the famously dour baker even more grim. Her
fantastical baking is only slightly more troublesome than the fact that he
can’t stop thinking about her pink-streaked hair and irrepressible dimple.
Match…
When Dominic and Sylvie learn they will be fighting for the once
in a lifetime opportunity to bake a cake for the upcoming wedding of Princess
Rose, the flour begins to fly as they fight to come out on top.
The bride adores Sylvie’s quirky style. The palace wants Dominic’s
classic perfection.
In this royal battle, can there be room for two?
Hellie’s Heeds:
In Hellie’s World, there is no such thing as too much glitter...or buttercream. Sylvie is a girl after my own heart; and as an avid watcher of The Great British Bake Off--and Paul Hollywood, well, obviously Dominic’s piercing eyes and impossibly high standards sound gloriously familiar. From the opening salvo, where the dear Reader is transported four years ago to when a unicorn hoof brained Dominic on film for YouTube prosperity and Sylvie was thus voted off the baking show, to the present day where Sylvie now happens to have a gloriously glittery, fantastical sugar factory right across the street from Dominic’s sleek, elegant and traditional cake-and-candy shop, I was immediately hooked by the hilarious banter, energetic pacing, and larger-than-life characters I wanted to be friends with (more with Sylvie than Dom, but you know…)
In addition to the obvious conflict of two “enemies-to-lovers” characters who have to work together on a show, each for their own valid reasons, there are other subplots also tying them together, namely trying to win the contract to bake The Cake for the upcoming royal wedding. The author did a fabulous job building scenes that felt organic and realistic to the evolution of these characters falling in love with each other, building a friendship and respect for each other’s work and humanity, and overcoming obstacles to being together. Best of all, the author did not go for an obvious dark moment where one of the characters suddenly believes the other betrayed their trust, and then there’s a big Grovel moment where they promise not to jump to conclusions again. Instead, that moment became an “Of course, they wouldn’t do that. They have too much integrity” and the black moment and struggle was shown in a different way. It was glorious!
If, like me, you too are in love with Love, you will be delighted there are two more romances within the story, and you will root for their HEA as well. There might be one or two more, actually...you’ll have to read it. There is lots of love to go around. In fact, I’ve got my hopes and dreams pinned to another of the secondary characters having their own book and HEA and have now begun following Lucy Parker’s page.
In the realm of rom-coms, I am a purist in
loving rom-coms that overflow with witty banter, side-splitting slapstickesque
scenes that you can’t turn away from, and characters that start off on the
wrong foot...but come around to liking each other in the end. This story gave
me the feel and thrill of old school rom-coms but with a fresh voice and a more
realistic and positive relationship modernity of how love should be. I adored
it. And if you love cake, I think you will too.
The randomly chosen winners from the Sally Kilpatrick
Much Ado About Barbecue Spotlight are:
Laurie G
(an e-ARC of Much Ado About Barbecue)
and
Martha Lawson
(a print copy of Bless Her Heart)
Please send your email (Laurie) and postal mail (Martha) address to:
theromancedish (at) gmail (dot) com
The randomly chosen winner of a
Kindle copy of
Herons Landing by JoAnn Ross is:
Annette N
Congratulations!
Please send your email address to:
theromancedish (at) gmail (dot) com
The randomly chosen winner of a print copy of
Wait For It by Jenn McKinlay is:
robinb
Congratulations!
Please send your full name and mailing address to:
theromancedish (at) gmail (dot) com
The randomly chosen winner of a print copy of
The Viscount Made Me Do It by Diana Quincy is:
Karen H
Congratulations!
Please send your full name and mailing address to:
theromancedish (at) gmail (dot) com
Someone To Cherish by Mary Balogh is the ninth book in her latest series. This five-star book can be read as a stand alone, too. That a book so deep into a series can be read as a stand alone can be attributed to the story and this author’s brilliance. The series follows the Westcott family after they discover that their father was married before they were born and fathered an illegitimate daughter. However, that daughter was not actually illegitimate since he married her mother and promptly forgot about that fact when he married again. This news came as a shock to the heir apparent Harry Westcott, the Earl of Riverdale, his two sisters and their mother. With that news, a/k/a the Great Disaster, Harry lost everything - the earldom went to a second cousin, including all the entailed holdings and fortune.
Harry’s family scatters to the four winds and Harry decides to join the army in the fight against Napoleon. Harry fought valiantly and was wounded several times. His gravest wounds were sustained at Waterloo. Though it was a close thing, Harry recovers but is not the same person anymore. He goes from a cheerful and outgoing person to somewhat of a recluse. He likes his own company and that of a few childhood friends. Both his immediate and extended families worry about him. His mother and sisters have all settled down into wedded bliss. That is what they want for Harry.
But Harry is content with his life and perfectly happy to stay at his childhood home, Hinsford Manor. He enjoys the company of a few of his childhood friends who still live there. But he wonders if there could be more. An unlikely source asks him, “Are you lonely?” and he does not answer right away.
Lydia Tavernor is a quiet and unassuming vicar’s widow. Her husband was a devout and pious man. Lydia stayed in his shadow and was the perfect helpmate. He died as he lived in saving a young boy from drowning. Following his death, her family encourages her to return with them. She decides to stay in the village and is able to get a cottage at the edge of town. This affords her the opportunity for the first time in her life to be independent of a man’s dominance in her life which she never had before. She is content but after a year of mourning she wonders if it is enough.
Harry and Lydia’s relationship starts innocently enough from a walk home. They come out of the shadows to one another. Still, Lydia hesitates because she does not want to lose herself in another man again. Lydia is called home to see her father, her family encourages her to return to them. Upon her return she and Harry reunite and share dances at the local assembly. Sadly, this and an innocent kiss become the fodder of malicious gossip.
At the same time, Harry’s family arrives en
masse to celebrate his 30th birthday. This only adds to the mayhem but Harry
soon asks his mother to intervene on his part when Lydia refuses his marriage
proposal. Having a duke, an earl, a marquess and I’m pretty sure a viscount
along with a formidable dowager countess can come in pretty handy in swaying gossips
and a reluctant bride. Here is where Mary Balogh excels in crafting happily
ever afters that are filled with such joy you can’t help but smile as you read.
Yes, the prying gossip is put in their place. And Lydia does say yes and their
happily ever after will leave you swooning with delight. I adore Mary Balogh
and am fairly certain I have read all her books. I treasure them all and I
include this book in their numbers.
Enjoy!