Cover & Excerpt
Scandalous Siblings Book Two
…heroines whose scientific knowledge and intellect are an affront to early Victorian's increasingly staid society. The family's second sister uses her extraordinary olfactory senses to sniff out her perfect match, a husband who fits all her scientific criteria. Lady Laura Jamison has a gift and she’s not afraid to use it. She’s after a husband, but not just any husband. She wants a man who meets her logical and scientific criteria. Her extraordinary olfactory senses lead her to Richard, the Earl of Winchester. He might not know it-yet-but he’s her perfect match.
Richard has no time for family friend, Laura, the mad scientist. He’s been pursued by many a female, but never on the premise that one sniff can decide your soul mate. Besides, he wants to marry a sweet and docile woman, a socially acceptable young lady, the exact opposite of Laura. (continued...)
Excerpts, Characters & More
(...continued) But when he’s tasked with stopping fraudulent trading in Britain’s railways shares, he finds he needs Laura’s help. As they work to expose the culprit, Richard begins to think Laura may be on to something, because when he’s with her, passion and desire explode with one look, one touch, one kiss…
Genre: Historical Romance
Content/Theme(s): Regency, Science, Mystery
Release Date: February 23, 2014
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Scenting Scandal Excerpt:
“Half an hour at most until we can end this farce. Then we’ll be free to bid each other a far-from-fond farewell.”
The Earl snorted, the indelicate sound contrasting with the refined air he presented this morning in his long charcoal frock coat with tailored sleeves displaying decorative gold buttons. A gold-threaded gray vest fitted snugly underneath, while a gold bar sporting an enormous topaz winked from the elaborate folds of his thrice-about neckcloth.
Laura twisted her neck a little more and looked lower. Immaculate trousers – with the newer style front fastening instead of a buttoned-over flap – covered an acre of legs and finished at blindingly-polished walking boots.
Living up to her family title of Miss Inquisitive, she moved her gaze higher again and back to his thigh’s evident musculature, honed from time spent on horseback. The mechanics, and easy access, of one row of buttons down the simplified closing on his trousers fascinated her, purely from a scientific point of view.
Botheration. The air had warmed all of a sudden. She lifted her ivory and lace fan. Even waving the fragile creation rapidly back and forth didn’t dispel her flush. Not blush, as she’d never admit to such a state. Dealing with the Earl might be a hardship, but she and her sisters had never found it taxing to peruse the Earl’s decidedly-masculine physique. She risked one more peek. No, not difficult at all. When her appraisal reached his face, she saw a wide smile and a display of even white teeth, and she smiled in return.
“Uh, uh,” he said, wagging a finger. “You misunderstand the reasons for my happier expression. Unlike you, I’m looking forward to the next three months and the chance to study your fiscal strategies. I’d like to compare my investing skills to those of your astute sister’s.”
His mouth widened into a roguish grin. “I’m also flattered by your scrutiny of my anatomy and amused by your blush, especially after your studies into animal reproduction.”
Her free hand flew to her cheek and her heavy reticule knocked her arm. “I never blush.” To have him observe her ogle him was embarrassing and gave her another reason to be irritated by his company, petty though her reasons might be. She tugged, but her hand was imprisoned under his. With her nose raised a fraction, she said, “For the sake of propriety, I was ensuring your garments were intact. You’ve a reputation for disappearing into dark corners and re-emerging with your clothing askew. As though hasty hands ripped your garments from your body.”
“Tut, tut, my pet. Has jealousy driven you to spying?”
“Jealousy? Over the class of females you consort with? I was reassuring myself your clothing was intact for the sake of my elderly aunt. The entire congregation watched that woman, the Countess, beckon you to the back of the church. Heaven knows what you were doing while the bride and groom were signing the register.”
Winchester chuckled, long and low. “I doubt even my sullied reputation could support the story that I dragged the Countess into a shadowy niche for a quick tumble. At least, not with my sisters watching me like hawks.” He dipped his head closer. “I may excel at dispensing pleasure, but I like more than a few minutes to enjoy a rendezvous.”
She forced herself to stand motionless, to not react to his latest coarse taunt. “I’ve no interest,” she said, between calming breaths, “in knowing any details of how you entertain–”
~~~~~~
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by Suzi Love
Scandalous Siblings Book One
After Lady Rebecca Jamison, a mathematical genius, saves her family from financial ruin by secretly investing in railway stocks on the London stock exchange, a greedy syndicate, desperate for Becca’s calculations and predictions, murders her friend and threatens the Jamison family, forcing Becca to beg assistance from her childhood friend, Cayle St. Martin.
The newly titled Duke of Sherwyn has returned to London after five years on the continent extending his family’s shipping interests. He’s shunned his privileged London life and his father’s unbending attitudes, and becomes committed to employing the spying tactics he learned on the continent to help Becca indict the syndicate—and using his skills as a lover to seduce her into his bed.
But how will Cayle be able to convince Becca, a determinedly self-sufficient spinster, that he can be more to her than just a protector?
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Embracing Scandal Excerpt:
Lady Rebecca Jamison watched Cayle. Under the rules of etiquette, she must remember to address him as Your Grace or Sherwyn in public, despite knowing he’d abhorred the bowing and scraping expected by dukes, including his father.
Becca tried to judge his level of inebriation and his reaction to her news, though she was wise enough to stay out of arm’s reach. In the past, her knight in shining armour had constantly overreacted if he thought her adventures, or misadventures, placed her in harm’s way.
“Please, my dear.” The new duke’s fists unfurled as he flung his arms wide in a dramatic gesture. “Go ahead and clarify that terrifying statement.” His voice lifted another octave. “Before my hair turns completely white. Or my legs give out.”
Neither Cayle’s fury nor his towering size frightened Becca. But she was terrified that the city would awaken and the streets fill with people before he became calm and rational and listened to her plea for his help in collecting the final proof that would send at least a dozen of their peers to prison for illegal trading practices.
“Or even worse.” He voice was a low snarl as he pointed at the floor. “I misplace the contents of my heaving stomach all over the duchess’s prized carpet.”
Becca winced. For the tenth time she listed to herself the reasons she’d bravely bearded this particular panther in his lair.
To protect her family.
To secure the nest eggs saved by the fallen women at the shelter.
To save her own life.
As the new Duke of Sherwyn, Cayle was her best, or possibly only, chance to do all that and to keep her promise to Scotland Yard. She hoped he’d listen with an open mind. Hoped he’d comprehend how much danger her family and friends were in without realising how close she had come to also being murdered.
“I’d gone to Peggy’s cottage to collect some letters she’d written on behalf of our Women’s Society. The door was ajar. I knocked but Peggy didn’t answer so I went inside.”
Peggy had been sprawled across the floor, her sturdy legs protruding at odd angles from her yellowing nightgown. Her hair had been matted with blood and tangled in the strings of her dislodged nightcap and her plait had been a rusty red mess instead of a neat tail of plain brown.
“I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the murderer standing over Peggy’s battered body. But he runs towards me. Not away.” She shuddered and closed her eyes.
Fingers brushed her cheek. “Becca, I’ll not let anyone harm you.”
“If I’d only arrived at Peggy’s cottage a few minutes earlier.”
“Stop it. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
“How can I not? One life has already been destroyed because of me. My friend was killed. Her body discarded like a tattered rag doll.”
His bloodshot gaze narrowed on her face. “So, knowing how your mind works, you’ll try to focus the consortium on yourself, and thereby keep everyone else out of danger.” He raised a brow. “Am I correct?”
Damned man was still a mind reading menace. “You’re wrong. I’ve little wish to confront those men by myself. But neither will I allow anyone else to be hurt.”
“And who protects you from the current set of fire–breathing dragons?”
She raised her chin. “I’ve outgrown such childishness.” She lowered herself to the closest settee, a demonstration of ladylike maturity and a reprieve for her trembling knees.
~~~~~~
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by Suzi Love
Pleasure House Series Book One
Lady Chrissie Wellsby and her two country friends research dozens of rogues before selecting the notorious Viscount Hawkesbury, owner of London’s most exclusive and expensive brothel, to educate them in erotic seduction. The ladies abandon respectability and coerce Justin Tremayne into letting them visit The Pleasure House and to teaching them the sensual tricks mistresses and prostitutes use to entertain men.
Though Justin believes three naive ladies will see the debauched romps in his themed rooms, cover their eyes and ears, and run back to their sheltered lives, he underestimates the desperation of abandoned women who imagine a wider knowledge of sex will keep the men in their lives at home, in their own beds. But despite watching several of their friends, men and women, perform raunchy acts at his brothel, the ladies insist on participating in the last of Justin’s infamous Sultan’s galas, held in numerous silk tents and outdoor bathing areas on his estate.
Justin concedes to Chrissie’s demands only to gain information about his long-lost mother and sisters, but the world-weary viscount falls head over heels in love with his emotionally bruised pupil. He yearns for a wife, children, and an uncomplicated wife, but can he convinced Chrissie to take a chance and marry again? Because Justin never wants to leave her bed.
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The Viscount's Pleasure House Excerpt:
Lady Rebecca Jamison watched Cayle. Under the rules of etiquette, she must remember to address him as Your Grace or Sherwyn in public, despite knowing he’d abhorred the bowing and scraping expected by dukes, including his father.
Becca tried to judge his level of inebriation and his reaction to her news, though she was wise enough to stay out of arm’s reach. In the past, her knight in shining armour had constantly overreacted if he thought her adventures, or misadventures, placed her in harm’s way.
“Please, my dear.” The new duke’s fists unfurled as he flung his arms wide in a dramatic gesture. “Go ahead and clarify that terrifying statement.” His voice lifted another octave. “Before my hair turns completely white. Or my legs give out.”
Neither Cayle’s fury nor his towering size frightened Becca. But she was terrified that the city would awaken and the streets fill with people before he became calm and rational and listened to her plea for his help in collecting the final proof that would send at least a dozen of their peers to prison for illegal trading practices.
“Or even worse.” He voice was a low snarl as he pointed at the floor. “I misplace the contents of my heaving stomach all over the duchess’s prized carpet.”
Becca winced. For the tenth time she listed to herself the reasons she’d bravely bearded this particular panther in his lair.
To protect her family.
To secure the nest eggs saved by the fallen women at the shelter.
To save her own life.
As the new Duke of Sherwyn, Cayle was her best, or possibly only, chance to do all that and to keep her promise to Scotland Yard. She hoped he’d listen with an open mind. Hoped he’d comprehend how much danger her family and friends were in without realising how close she had come to also being murdered.
“I’d gone to Peggy’s cottage to collect some letters she’d written on behalf of our Women’s Society. The door was ajar. I knocked but Peggy didn’t answer so I went inside.”
Peggy had been sprawled across the floor, her sturdy legs protruding at odd angles from her yellowing nightgown. Her hair had been matted with blood and tangled in the strings of her dislodged nightcap and her plait had been a rusty red mess instead of a neat tail of plain brown.
“I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the murderer standing over Peggy’s battered body. But he runs towards me. Not away.” She shuddered and closed her eyes.
Fingers brushed her cheek. “Becca, I’ll not let anyone harm you.”
“If I’d only arrived at Peggy’s cottage a few minutes earlier.”
“Stop it. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
“How can I not? One life has already been destroyed because of me. My friend was killed. Her body discarded like a tattered rag doll.”
His bloodshot gaze narrowed on her face. “So, knowing how your mind works, you’ll try to focus the consortium on yourself, and thereby keep everyone else out of danger.” He raised a brow. “Am I correct?”
Damned man was still a mind reading menace. “You’re wrong. I’ve little wish to confront those men by myself. But neither will I allow anyone else to be hurt.”
“And who protects you from the current set of fire–breathing dragons?”
She raised her chin. “I’ve outgrown such childishness.” She lowered herself to the closest settee, a demonstration of ladylike maturity and a reprieve for her trembling knees.
~~~~~~
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