She detected a slight lift to his lips, but his eyes remained remote, his tone distant. “It is yours alone.” Then he gestured to a doorway half hidden in shadow beside the bedpost. “That leads to my bed chamber. I will thank you to knock before entering.”
She stiffened, turning to him in shock. “I shall not enter at all, sir! I am to be married, and I shall enter that state with my purity and my honor intact.”
This time he did smile, though the expression seemed cold. He stepped into the room, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned negligently against the bedpost. “Your honor is not my concern. Your purity, however, shall be grossly torn by even the most lax standards.”
Lee characterizes a young pious woman, whose father has died, leaving her penniless, to be sexually trained and married to the highest bidder. This passage sends more chills down my spine than most horror stories. Undeniably, this novel is my favorite historical romance.
His eyes narrowed into slits and his nostrils flared, his breath a soft whisper as he inhaled deeply. Slowly, he moved around her as if she were prey and he the hunter. He stepped close, too close. With his chest hot to her back, his essence seeped into her skin. His fingers brushed her nape, wrapped around a loose lock, and the fine hairs on her neck stood on end.
I had much trouble choosing an excerpt from this adult, paranormal/historical romance. Brighton engages the reader throughout. A young psychic woman is contracted as governess to the hero who is wild from some jungle trauma, but he’s soon to inherit a dukedome. Great conflict and sexual tension.
Beau was still grousing as she descended the shallow ladder into the area beneath the forecastle where the cook held rein over the ship’s stores. He was a bellicose man, lean as a whip, ugly as a wart, with the unparalleled talent of being able to pass wind upon request. Continue reading →
A glimmer of silver reflected from his chest where he wore a brace of pistol daggers; the weapons were unique and of a French design, and he had used them before to great effect. A smile came to his lips as he considered the legend that had spread about him—a larger than life figure who successfully stole secrets from places believed safe from intrusion. They called him L’Engoulevent, the Nighthawk.
In her historical romances, Walker paints a powerful image of her hero and the past in which he is immersed. In this excerpt from the prologue, we’re introduced to a secret agent of HRH The Prince Regent. One can’t get any more Regency than that.