I’ve got more than one Karen Robards title on my keeper shelf, but Guilty got tossed into the UBS box so hard and fast it scared my cat. I’m guessing others will disagree with me, but I just can’t identify with a hypocritical heroine. (Possible slight spoilers in review)

Fifteen year old Kat Kominski and her pals are having a night out, when one of them accidentally shoots and kills an off duty policeman in a robbery gone bad. They flee, and the killer is never identified or caught. Present day, “Kate White” is a single mom, and a prosecutor in the DA’s office. One of Kate’s former friends is now a career criminal, and begins blackmailing Kate. Meanwhile, hot Detective Tom Braga keeps turning up, asking Kate questions about her past and somehow making himself a part of her and her son’s lives.

I’ll just lay my main problem out straight. Kate’s a liar. At a young age, she gets caught up in a crime, and she never reports it. She goes to college, then to law school, and then (despite a goal of rapid financial success) goes to work for the D.A. Keeps lying! A criminal begins blackmailing her, so she tells more lies! To the detective! That she’s falling in love with!

Kate lies until it’s beyond stupid to keep lying, tells more lies to explain away inconsistencies, and when the truth finally comes out, she never apologizes.

Good ol’ Detective Tom has surely earned himself some grovel, but he does not get it from Kate. Poor Tom. Oh yes, did I mention that Tom has a Tragic Secret in his Past That Has Kept Him From Loving Again? Or Kate’s Eerily Mature 9 year old? Or Tom’s Big Noisy Loveable Italian Family? I could go on, but I’m tired of capitalizing.

Really, I’m sorry Karen Robards. I wanted to like Guilty. I tried to read it a second time to see if I liked it any better, but I couldn’t do it.

Grade: F

     Blurb:

     One cold November night when Kat White was fifteen years old, she and some friends held up a convenience store. In the heat of the moment, one of the others shot and killed an off-duty cop moonlighting as a security guard. Kat and her pals fled the scene in a panic, and no one was caught.

     Sixteen years later, Kat-now Kate-has built a new life for herself. Now a single mom with an eight-year-old son, she works as a prosecutor in the Philadelphia DA’s office. But her dark past rears its head when she walks into court one day and discovers that she is to prosecute Mario Castellanos, one of her friends from that terrible night.

     Kate is in a bind: even though Mario was the one who probably did commit the crime, he’s counting on Kate to make sure he’s not convicted. If she convinces the judge of his guilt, he’ll claim that she was the one who killed the off-duty cop. Before real despair sets in, Mario is found dead-in her apartment, and with her pistol. When homicide detective Tom Braga shows up to investigate the murder, Kate is far from relieved; the two have clashed since she started working for the prosecutor’s office. But when another man who knows the secret of Kate’s past gets involved in the investigation, she learns that her life-and her son’s-are in danger. Frantic, she realizes that she has nowhere to turn. Except, maybe, to Tom . . .

     Read an excerpt.

retro post all from April 13, 2008

Excerpt of Vanquished by Hope Tarr (Medallion, 1 Jul 06) - pretty covers, but some of the model’s poses make me go “ouch!” Have you seen her recent Blaze cover?

CHAPTER ONE

“Your denial of my citizen’s right to vote, is the denial of my right of consent as one of the governed, the denial of my right of representation as one of the taxed, the denial of my right to a trial by a jury of my peers as an offender against the law; therefore the denial of my sacred right to life, liberty, property…”

~ Susan B. Anthony
United States of America v. Susan B. Anthony, 1873

Westminster, London
February 1890

“Votes for Women now. Votes for women NOW!”

The protestors’ voices pitched higher still, shriller still, or so it seemed to Hadrian as he hurried across Westminster Bridge, the wind tearing at his greatcoat and scarf and threatening to rip the bowler from his head. Stepping out onto the crowded street, he tightened his grip on his camera, a German-made Anschütz with a shutter mechanism capable of arresting motion to one-thousandth of a second. He’d put the equipment to good test that afternoon at St. Thomas Hospital photographing a newly discovered medical anomaly. The poor bastard had been born with an enormous scrotum, tumor-mottled skin, and a chronic palsy that would have rendered traditional photographs little better than a blur. Even so, using his talent to turn a fellow human being into little better than a circus freak hadn’t set well with Hadrian, and the subject’s sad-eyed patience in holding any number of humiliating poses had made him feel like the lowest of beasts. Now frozen, footsore and famished, he couldn’t reach his studio soon enough.

But to do so he first had to run the gauntlet of suffragists who’d overtaken Parliament Square. They’d camped out for coming on two days now, creating a bloody nuisance for pedestrians and conveyances alike. Dressed in somber grays and serious blacks, the fifty-odd females picketing beneath the gray wash of winter sky might just as easily pass for a funeral procession as a political rally were it not for the placards the women held aloft and the noise they emitted — especially the noise.

“Miss Caledonia Rivers to speak on the subject of female emancipation… Hallman’s Assembly Rooms… tomorrow evening… seven o’ clock.”

Dodging traffic to cross to the sidewalk, Hadrian could only shake his head. That any woman fortunate enough to possess a roof and four walls would march about in the bitter air struck him as a sort of perverse self-indulgence, a foolishness on par with going slumming in the stews or touring prison yards to observe the convicts picking oakum. He had no patience for it, none at all and when one bug-eyed female had the audacity to try and stuff a pamphlet in his already full hands, he swallowed an oath worthy of his Covent Garden days and darted inside the park’s gated entrance.

He realized his mistake at once. Apparently not content with clogging the sidewalks, the damnable females had made camp within the park proper. A platform had been erected in the center of the green and several more dark-clad women busied themselves lighting the torches set about its perimeter. Giving them broad berth, he kept his head down and his sights trained on the opposite end of the wrought-iron gate.

The blare of a bobbie’s whistle from outside the park walls instinctively sent him swinging around — and barreling into a female’s soft body. “Ouf!”

Hadrian stared down in horror. The woman he’d knocked off her feet now sprawled at his, feathered hat askew and skirts bunched. On the frost-parched-grass beside her, a leather briefcase crammed with papers stretched wide open.

He went down on his knees beside her. “Madam, are you all right?” Unleashing his grip on the camera, he slid an arm beneath her shoulders.

She jerked at his touch. Behind the netting of veiled hat, her green eyes flashed fire. “It’s miss, actually.” She elbowed her way upright and yanked down her skirts — but not before Hadrian caught sight of a pair of appealingly trim ankles. “And I would be in fine fettle indeed had you but seen fit to mind where you were going.” Broken peacock feather dangling over her one eye, she got to her knees and began collecting her papers.

Courtesy toward women was deeply ingrained, one of the few values Hadrian possessed, and the only claim he could make to being a gentleman by deed if not by birth. And so rather than point out that she had bumped into him as well, he held out his hand to help her up. “Allow me.”

Beneath the weight of that atrocious hat, her head snapped up. “I believe I have had quite enough of your help for one day.”

As if bent on proving her wrong, the demon wind kicked up, scattering vellum sheets to the four winds.

She leapt to her feet. “My papers!” Hiking up her skirts, she gave chase across the park. Over her shoulder, she shouted, “Well, don’t just stand there. Do something!”

Bloody hell. With a muttered prayer that his camera would still be there on his return, Hadrian abandoned it to run after her. Hell bent on cheating the wrangling wind, he plucked one sheet from its skewer of wrought-iron fencepost and another from the foot of the statue of the late Benjamin Disraeli. At the lady’s insistence, he retrieved two more from the upper branches of one very tall, very scratchy oak tree. Breathless, bruised, and sporting a tear in his coat, he shoved the last of the papers in his pocket and climbed down. Dropping to the hard-packed ground, he scanned the square for signs of his erstwhile victim, but she appeared to have vanished.

He was on the verge of giving up and going on his way when he spotted her, down on all fours and buried shoulder-deep in the boxwood hedge. Coming up behind her, he tapped her smartly on the back. “What the devil do you think you’re about?”

From beneath the branches, her muffled voice answered, “Collecting my papers naturally.” She crawled out, feathers hanging at half-mast and a clutch of vellum in one grubby glove.

This time she accepted his hand up without argument. Standing face-to-face, he saw she was tall, nearly a match for his six feet. The novelty of looking a woman directly in the eye had him peering beyond the blur of veil for a closer study. No great beauty, he decided, nor was she any green girl. If he had to make a stab at guessing, he’d peg her at thirty-odd, perhaps a year or two older than himself, and a spinster judging by the “miss” as well as the dreary clothing. And yet the sage-colored eyes beneath the slash of dark brows were both expressive and arresting, and the full mouth and softly squared jaw completed a pleasing enough picture.

Caught up, it took her discreet cough to remind him of the papers bulging from his pocket. Handing them over, he said, “I think this is the lot.”

“Thank you.” She took them from him, her gloved fingertips brushing his, and improbably he felt the warm tingle of her touch shoot straight to his groin. Stuffing the papers inside her case, she spotted the mud and dried leaves festooning the front of her coat. “Oh dear, I’m a mess” she said, swiping at the muck with her soiled glove. “I never can seem to manage the trick of remembering a handkerchief.”

He fumbled in his pocket. “Here, have mine.” He pressed the square into her palm, again experiencing that peculiar surge of heat.

She accepted with a grateful smile and bent to brush away the dirt. “Thank you — again.” Straightening to her full, glorious height, she handed back his handkerchief.

Feeling in better spirits, he shook his head. “Keep it. Really, it’s the least I can do after mowing you down like so much lawn grass.”

She laughed then, a soft airy tinkling that made him think of the wind chimes his landlady insisted on hanging by his backdoor. “All right then… if you’re sure.” She stuffed the wadded ball of linen into her coat pocket and turned to go. Stopping in her tracks, she looked back. “Mind you don’t lose your papers.”

“My papers? Oh… quite.” Good God, he’d left his best camera out in the open and, worse yet, had been on the verge of forgetting it entirely. What the devil was the matter with him? Jogging over to retrieve it, he thought of his flat, empty save for his cat, and realized he was no longer so very eager to reach it — at least not alone. “I’m not always such an oaf, you know,” he called back, wracking his brain for something else to say, some pretense to hold her.

From a few feet away, she cupped a hand to her ear. “Sorry?”

“I said I’m not always such an oaf.”

“Oh.” She paused in mid-step, appearing to consider that. “Well, I’m not usually such a harridan, either except when I’m nervous — or in this case, late.”

“I don’t think you’re a harridan.” Camera in hand, he closed the space separating them in three ridiculously long strides. “It’s these protestors, taking up the whole bloody square as if they own every brick and statue, spewing their rubbish at all hours that have everyone on edge. I only came through the park to avoid them.”

Mouth lifting into a pretty smile of full pink lips and straight white teeth, she nodded to the park beyond them. “It would seem you’ve rather failed in that regard.”

“Yes, I suppose I have.” Looking back over his shoulder, he saw they were the object of a good many whispers and gawking stares. Their mad dash must have made an amusing spectacle indeed. Ordinarily that realization would have set him fuming but rather than care, he found himself saying, “There’s a tea shop just around the corner. Allow me to make amends by buying you a cup?”

She shook her head, looking adorably shy and far younger than she had at first when she’d still been tight-lipped and cross. “That isn’t necessary. And I’ve an… engagement to keep.”

Ah yes, presumably the engagement for which he had made her late already. A decent fellow would accept defeat and send her on her way. And yet the mental image of how splendid she would look freed from all those ghastly clothes and wearing only his bed sheets prompted him to press, “As you’re late already, why not postpone it altogether, at least until you’ve thawed?

She shook her head, causing the broken hat feathers to careen like a torn sail. “I can’t. I really must be going.” The tightening of her mouth told him he’d been too forward, that this time she really did mean to go.

“Ah well, perhaps we’ll bump into one another again sometime.” He fished inside his coat pocket for one of his business cards as a pretense to asking her name.

“Yes, perhaps we shall,” she allowed but there was no hope of it in her eyes. She turned to go and Hadrian knew this time there would be no more keeping her.

Before she could take a step, a squat woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a man’s plaid muffler wrapped about her short neck rushed up to intercept her. “Good Lord, Callie, are you all right? I was outside the gate and only just heard what happened.”

Beneath her veil, the woman — Callie — flushed bright crimson. “Calm yourself, Harriet. I am perfectly fine. I took a bit of a tumble, and my briefcase spilled.” Her shy-eyed gaze shifted to Hadrian. “This gentleman was kind enough to help me.”

From behind horn-rimmed spectacles, Harriet’s beady-eyed gaze dropped to the camera case in Hadrian’s hand. “I don’t know what rag of a newspaper you’re with, sir, but if your scheme is to scare up scandal and rubbish by waylaying Miss Rivers and photographing her in disarray, then you’d best think again.”

Taken off guard, Hadrian started to demur when from the vicinity of the stage, someone with a bullhorn belted out, “Miss Caledonia Rivers to make her address. Five minutes, ladies. Five minutes…”

Callie Rivers. Caledonia Rivers. It was then that the fog inside Hadrian’s head lifted. His mystery woman was one of them, a suffragette! And not just any suffragette but their leader! Seeing her through new eyes, he took in the spinsterish coat, the awful hat, and the leather case containing the oh-so important papers, and asked himself how a piquant smile and a pair of pretty ankles had turned him into such an absolute idiot.

He stared at her, feeling like a biblical figure from whose eyes the scales had just fallen. “Your pressing engagement, I take it?”

She answered with a brusque nod, at once prim and proper and utterly businesslike. “Quite.”

Now that his initial shock was fading, he could at least appreciate the irony of the situation. The first woman to pique his interest in years was the celebrated champion of a cause he’d come to loathe.

“Lest we part as strangers, my name is St. Claire. Hadrian St. Claire.” By this time, he had the sought-after business card in hand and his shock firmly in check. Handing her the card, he said, “I’m not a reporter. I’m a photographer. I have a studio a few blocks from here on Great George. Portraiture is my specialty.”

She tucked his card into her pocket with nary a glance. “I’m afraid I’m not terribly fond of having my photograph taken.”

“Pity. You’d make for a most intriguing subject.” And because he had absolutely nothing to lose — now that he knew who and what she was, what possible interest in her could he have — he looked directly into Caledonia Rivers’ beautiful, mortified eyes and added, “I should have recognized you from the newspaper etchings had they but done you justice. You’re far prettier, and far younger, than I would have supposed.”

Beneath the veil, the stain on her cheeks darkened from pale pink to dusky rose but, to her credit, she didn’t look away. “I think you mock me, sir.”

“On the contrary, miss, if either of us is the subject of mockery, I rather think it is me.” He nodded toward a clutch of young women watching them and giggling behind their gloves.

Harriet skewered him with a sharp look before turning back to the Rivers woman. “Callie, dear, we really must be on our way.” She hooked her plump arm through her friend’s and began leading her away.

“Ladies.” He tipped his bowler to them both, but it was Caledonia Rivers whom he followed with his eyes as she hurried toward the platform, creased and muddied skirts trailing the pavement, broken hat feathers caught up in the fingers of the wind.

So that was Caledonia Rivers, the celebrated suffragette spokeswoman making headlines in all the newspapers. What was it the press was calling her these days? Ah yes, The Maid of Mayfair. Unlike so many of her suffragette sisters whose reputations skirted the fringe of respectability, Caledonia Rivers was said to be so very good and virtuous — and yet not too good or too virtuous to indulge in a bit of a flirt in a public park, the little hypocrite.

He’d only paid her the compliment to torture her, and yet in his roundabout way he’d spoken nothing but the truth. The flesh-and-blood woman with whom he’d passed the last delightful few minutes scarcely resembled the stern-faced Amazon the newspapers made her out to be.

As for the “maid” part, he was deucedly sorry he wouldn’t have the opportunity to test that out for himself.

Or would he?

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

© Lucy Monroe

ISBN-10: 0373127391
ISBN-13: 978-0373127399
July 2008 both UK & North America

CHAPTER ONE

Lina Marwan stood on the edge of the bridge, her eyes shut as she searched for her center.

A slight breeze caressed her sun warmed skin. It was a beautiful day to be alive. She released the railing and nothing stood between her and open air…a fifty foot drop to the rushing waters of the river below.

Adrenalin coursed through her at the thought of what she was about to do. Her breaths came in short pants and sweat formed on her temples and palms. She curled her fingers into fists and then released them several times as she forced her lungs into a more relaxed rhythm.

Loud voices from behind her disturbed the peace she was trying to attain. Opening her eyes, she looked back over her shoulder and saw him.

Sebastian Hawk.

The last person she expected to see at this moment in her life. The last man she expected, or wanted, to see ever again. Before, or after, death. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to put her and the deceitful bastard in the same part of Heaven.

Well, there was nothing for it. He was here and it would only be a matter of seconds before he convinced the officials holding him off the bridge into letting him come for her.

She faced forward again, spread her arms like wings, and let her body fall forward as the sound of Sebastian’s roar echoed off the ravine’s rocky walls.

Soaring through the air like a bird diving for its prey, memories from eight years before flooded Lina’s mind in a reel by reel play of her time with Sebastian Hawk.

***

Headed toward the University Center, Lina rushed across the quad. She was late for the meeting, but it couldn’t be helped. She’d had to ditch her bodyguard. Again. He was reading a book on Ancient Egypt on the ground floor of the library. He believed she was in a study group meeting in one of the rooms on the second floor. If the poor man knew how many hours he spent in the library while she was elsewhere, they would both be in a lot of trouble.

He was easy to fool. Too easy for her ego. In his mind her high grade point average attested unequivocally to many hours spent studying. She did study, just not nearly as much as he believed. However, like her father and far too many other men from her country, her guard did not believe a woman could get the grades she did without putting a huge effort into the task. All of the guards in her current security detail were similarly afflicted in their thinking.

When she had discovered the benefits to this particular formerly annoying trait she had been grateful for her father’s insistence on supplying her bodyguards from her home country for the first time.

Raised in America since she was six, she’d often chafed at the attitudes exhibited by her Marwanian guards. Then she had arrived at university and discovered how easy it was to gain temporary freedom on the pretext of studying. She grinned. Life might not be perfect, but it certainly was fun.

Her grin changed to a grimace as she ran into a rock wall dressed like a man.

She bounced backward, landing right on her bum in the grass. “Ooof.”

“Are you all right?” Oh, wow. The rock wall had a voice that made her insides ping.

She looked up…and up…a couple of inches over six feet of rip, until their eyes met. His were gray. A dark, mysterious gun metal gray. Though, right at that moment, their expression was perfectly readable. They were lit with concern. For her.

Nice.

Her smile returned and she stuck her hand out. “Fine. Thanks. Give me a lift?”

His lips quirked. “Certainly.” He reached toward her and their hands connected.

Starbursts might have gone off, she wasn’t sure. Because the momentum from his tug landed her body against his and her senses went super nova. Her dazzled brain registered that his mouth was still curved in that half-curve. She wondered what he’d look like with a full blown smile. Devastating, probably. She probably wouldn’t survive it.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking really concerned now.

And darned if she didn’t really like that. “Wonderful.”

“You don’t need help to remain standing?”

“No.” Did she look like she needed help?

“Then, maybe you’d like to let go? Not that I mind the close contact.” Warm amusement laced his words.

“I should…let go I mean.” But her body made no effort to move backward.

He laughed. “My name is Sebastian Hawk.”

Ulp. His laughter sent shivers through her as she found herself mesmerized by the absolutely gorgeous smile that accompanied it. Okay, so she’d survived a close encounter with his smile, but wasn’t so sure about her mental faculties.

This man was very destructive to rational thought processes.

“And you are?”

Right. Very bad for normal brain activity.

“Oh, I’m Lina Marwan.” She never used her complete name Lina bin Fahd al Marwan in America.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lina,” he said as he gently set her away from him.

She had to fight the urge to press forward and reconnect. Was this what it felt like to be attracted to a man? If it was, she could now be glad she’d spent her teen years at an all-girls school. Unlike her classmates, she’d never had the opportunity to spend time with boys her own age during school breaks. Her family kept too close of tabs on her for that.

In the year and a half since she came to university, she’d hugged a couple of boys, friends she met in her secret pursuits, but they’d never affected her like Sebastian Hawk. She’d always wanted to know what it was like to kiss a boy, but only in the abstract. Now she wanted to know the very concrete reality of kissing Sebastian Hawk.

The craving was so strong, her lips twitched. Sebastian’s gray gaze was knowing-as if he could read the unfamiliar desire surging through her.

The tower clock chimed the quarter hour across the quad and Lina’s body jolted with memory.

“Shoot. I’m late. I hope I haven’t missed my chance to sign up for the kayaking trip.” She still hadn’t worked out completely how she was going to get away from her bodyguard and family for an entire weekend, but she was determined to go on this trip.

“You kayak?” Sebastian asked in a surprised tone.

“It’s one of my favorite things. Not that I get to go as often as I like.” She started walking briskly toward the University Center.

He kept pace with her. “When did you learn?”

“In high school.” There were benefits to being the female offspring to a Middle Eastern king.

Sure, at first, when she’d been sent away from all that she knew, she’d felt abandoned. But as she’d grown older, she’d realized her parents’ lack of interest in her daily life was to her benefit. They were very conservative and that attitude influenced their Americanized relatives they’d placed her with at the tender age of six.

However, she still had more freedom living with her relatives than she would ever have had at home. And she’d gotten her first taste of real freedom when she’d gone to boarding school in seventh grade. The exclusive, all-girls prep school was far from the typical American middle and high schools, but she’d been allowed to do things there she would never have been able to do when living with family. Things like kayaking.

“I see. I thought the kayaking trip was a three-day get away.”

“It is. Are you going?” she asked, unable to stifle the hope in her gaze as her eyes remained locked with those of the tall, dark-haired hunk.

She felt the same adrenaline rush she got when competing in a race. Man, this being attracted to a guy thing was nothing like she’d expected it to be. It was almost scarily consuming. As exciting as taking a kayak out on white water. Maybe even more so.

***

Hawk had to bite down on an ugly four-letter word.

The diminutive princess was just full of surprises. The first had been when he’d seen his newest charge hurrying across the quad when she was supposed to be safely ensconced in the library studying with a small group of female friends. The plan had been for him to confer with her bodyguard and then arrange to “bump into” the princess on her way out of the library later.

It was a good thing he’d seen her, or he would have been just as ignorant of her true whereabouts as her hapless guard. The man needed to take a course in security from Hawk Investigations.

“I don’t kayak,” he said to her, “but I’d like to learn.” Which was a total lie. He had no desire to learn, but he had experienced canoeing. Even if it wasn’t his favorite thing, it was close enough to the other that he was confident he would make a good showing of himself on the water.

A man did what he had to for his job. And Hawk’s current assignment was sticking close to Princess Lina bin Fahd al Marwan.

Her smile was dazzling. “If we hurry, maybe we’ll both still get a chance to sign up for the trip.”

Options clicked through Hawk’s mind. One, he could prevent her from making the meeting at all. Two, he could scuttle any chances she had of going on the trip with a single phone call. Or he could follow his instincts and go on the trip with her.

Her obvious attraction to him would make it easy to arrange for her to miss the meeting, but this woman would probably find a way to sign up for the trip regardless. Lina Marwan, as she called herself, was nothing like the shy, quiet, studious, nineteen-year-old he had been led to expect.

Did anyone in the princess’ life know who she really was and how she amused herself?

The answer was no doubt in the negative, which was why he also did not want to scuttle the trip entirely.

He’d been hired as extra security during a time of increased risk for the Royal Family of Marwan. However, if his interaction had the benefit of allowing him to help her security detail enhance her overall safety-so much the better. He had to identify the ways she circumvented it in order to prevent her from doing so in the future.

Letting her make the trip while he accompanied her to ensure her safety, would give him the opportunity to see what measures she took to avoid her security detail.

He made all these determinations in the space of seconds.

“Lead the way,” he said with a smile.

She nodded, but instead of increasing her pace, she stopped, her dark brown gaze fixed on his lips.

“Lina…”

“Uh, yeah, right…go.” She made a visible effort to look away. Flipping her long black pony-tail over her shoulder, she started jogging toward the University Center. “The meeting was supposed to be upstairs.”

His long strides matched her speed with little effort, but his body heated in reaction to the enticing bounce of her feminine curves. The attraction was definitely mutual, which should make his job that much easier. He wouldn’t have to pretend an interest to stay close to her. Though his original intention had been to strike up a friendship, being just slightly more than friends would be an even better “in” to the princess’ life.

However, he would only take it so far. He didn’t do long term and for so many reasons, Lina was not a candidate for a short term affair. Not only was she the daughter of a client and herself his assignment, but she was a princess from a part of the world that placed a lot of importance on a woman’s virginity. It wouldn’t be fair to the princess to take their association beyond friendship and mild flirting.

Although he had a sense of honor that would not allow him to use the innocent, he was not above using her attraction to him.

Lina stopped in front of an athletic looking blond man who had been coming down the steps in front of the U.C. “Hey, Bob. Did we miss the meeting?”

“Yeah, but no biggie. All we did was pass out info sheets and take names.”

“Can we still sign up?” she asked enthusiastically.

The jock put his hand on Lina’s shoulder and squeezed, his smile practiced and more than a little flirtatious. “Anything for you, sweetie.”

Another curse fought for release from Hawk’s mouth. Did she have a boyfriend her family didn’t know about too?

“Great.” The diminutive princess bounced on the balls of her feet. “Sebastian’s a new kayaker. I’d like him assigned with me…” She turned to look at Hawk. “I mean if you don’t have an issue with a woman teaching you.”

“No, I’d like that.”

“Hey, Wayne could train the newbie and then you could be my partner,” Bob suggested.

“The newbie would prefer to partner his new friend.” It was the only way the princess was getting out on the water. A bodyguard could hardly do his job from the shore or another boat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to talk about you like you weren’t there.” Lina’s doe-like eyes shone with genuine repentance. “I hate it when people do that to me.”

He supposed, considering the strongly conservative and male centered family she came from, she’d had a lot of experience with it too. “No problem.” But the look he gave Bob told the other man not to mess with him.

From the expression on the college boy’s face, he got the message, but didn’t look happy about it. Again Hawk wondered if the relationship between Bob and Lina was closer than merely friends with a mutual interest in kayaking.

“Look, I’ll sign you both up, but I’ll need your contact details, dude,” Bob said to Hawk. “I’ve got Lina’s. In fact, I already signed you up, babe. I was going to bring you the info sheet in World Politics.”

Lina smiled at Bob, her eyes lit with gratitude and excitement. “You’re the best. Thanks.”

Bob slipped his backpack off his shoulder and dug out a notebook. “Here, just put your stuff in here.” He didn’t let go of the notebook when Hawk reached for it, though. “You are a student here, right? This trip is only open to students at the university.”

Lina frowned, but her expression cleared when Sebastian said, “I’m in the MBA program across the street.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Bob let go of the notebook.

Hawk took it and flipped through the pages until he came to a list of names under a handwritten title, “Kayaking Trip.” He pulled his pen out of his pocket and took pictures of the list of names under the guise of clicking the pen open. He added his name and cover contact information to the bottom of the list.

He would have someone at Hawk Investigations run a report on the names on the list to make sure none of them represented a threat to Lina’s safety.

He wondered how she planned to dupe her bodyguard for an entire weekend, but he had no doubt, whatever her plan was, she would succeed. A princess who had managed to become an expert kayaker while going to the exclusive boarding school she had attended without her family’s knowledge was adept at getting around their strictures for her life.

Bob looked at his watch and then at Lina. “We’ve got almost an hour before class. Do you want to get coffee with me at the Starbucks on State Street?”

She bit her bottom lip and looked sideways at Hawk, then nodded. “Can we get our coffee at the cafeteria though? I need to pick something up at the library before class.”

Hawk almost laughed out loud. She had to pick something up all right…her bodyguard. “You don’t mind if I tag along, do you?” he asked. “I could use a cup of coffee myself.”

Lina’s mouth curved into another blinding smile. “No, of course not. You’ll have to let me buy though. It’s the least I can do after running into you in the quad.”

“You’re the one that ended up on your derriere. I think I should buy.”

Bob shook his head. “Whoever wants to buy, let’s go. I need my fix of caffeine.”

“Were you up studying late again last night?” Lina asked him.

“You could call it that.”

She smacked his arm lightly. “You are so bad. Who was it this time? The sexy sorority girl with a boyfriend at a different school or the gymnast?”

“I’m not seeing the gymnast any more. Her coach told her one more late night and lack of focus the next day and she was off the team.”

So, Bob was a player. And Lina knew it. The question was, did he plan on adding Lina to his list of conquests? Not on Hawk’s watch, he wouldn’t. Her family had hired his agency to see her to her safety and he would do so. On every front. What she and the jock-boy did when Hawk finished with the case was not his problem.

He studiously ignored the tightening in his gut that occurred at that particular thought.

The student cafeteria coffee wasn’t bad. They even had an espresso machine. Not that Hawk drank specialty coffees, but both Lina and Bob did and from the hum of pleasure Lina emitted as she took her first sip, Hawk assumed it was good. He’d won the argument about him paying, but then he had expected to.

He wasn’t in the habit of losing-at anything.

“Are you going to the environmental demonstration tonight?” Bob asked Lina as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze following a curvy co-ed cross the dining room.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll try to be there.”

“There’s a rumor the Young Republicans are going to show up to heckle us.”

“Well, if they do, they’ll be heckling half their membership. Environmentalism isn’t the partisan issue big politicians say it is. There are conservationists on both sides.”

“If you say so.”

“You know I do.”

“Are you a political science student?” Hawk asked Lina, already knowing the answer, but wanting to get her to tell him more about herself. How much honesty was she willing to give?

“We both are,” Bob answered for her. “Lina’s a fence sitter though. She won’t identify with either of our major parties.”

Lina simply shrugged, but didn’t mention what Hawk assumed was her real reason for not identifying with either party. She was a citizen of Marwan, not the United States.

“I’m not a Young Republican and it kills my dad.” Bob’s satisfied smirk said a lot about why he leaned to the left politically.

Lina sighed and shook her head. “I swear you go to the rallies simply out of reactionary rebellion.”

“Didn’t you tell me once that you decided to study politics because your dad told you not to?” Bob asked pointedly.

The princess nodded, not looking the least bit phased. “It was a little more complicated than that, but his negative reaction to my interest in the subject did spur me on. However, how I react to what I’ve learned in my studies is the result of personal convictions. I hold beliefs different from my family, but not because I want to get a rise out of my dad. I doubt he’d even deign to notice, but my family’s political beliefs have had a strong and sometimes negative impact on my life.”

“In what way?” Bob asked.

Lina merely shook her head and changed the subject. Apparently Bob was not a close enough friend to be aware of Lina’s position as daughter to a desert king.

© Lucy Monroe

And then she got a headache and had to go night night …. Hopefully she will be all better today cuz someone has got to be well roundyere. LOL BUT to make up for our oversight… Hell do we need to? LISA KLEYPAS is going to be here Tuesday, May 13th! LOL. But just in case, here’s an excerpt of BED.

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

We stepped out of the elevator into the H-shaped layout of corridors. I turned to face Hardy, the air between us nearly crackling with challenge. “1800 Main isn’t that much better than Post Oak,” I said. “In fact, in terms of bang for the buck, you’re probably better off staying where you are.”

Hardy lifted a brow, looking amused. “Are you trying out some new kind of sales tactic on me?”

“No. I’m wondering what your ulterior motive is.”

“What’s your best guess?”

I stared straight into those fathomless eyes. “I think you’ve got some leftover hang-up about my sister-in-law.”

Hardy’s smile fled. “You’re way off on that one, honey. We never even slept together. I wish Liberty all the best, but I don’t want her that way.” He stepped closer, not touching me, but I felt like he was just about to . . . well, I didn’t know what. I felt a nervous chill chase down my back. “So take another guess,” he said. “You can’t keep me out of here if you can’t come up with a good reason for it.”

I stepped back from him and took a shaky breath. “You’re a hell-raiser,” I said. “That’s a pretty good reason.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I got all that out of my system in my twenties.”

“You look like you’ve still got some left in you.”

“No, ma’am. I’m completely tame.”

I had an inkling of what he must have been like as a naughty schoolboy, trying to convince his teacher of his innocence. And his sneaky charm was so irresistible that I had to turn away to hide a smile. “Sure you are,” I said, leading him to the apartment.

Stopping at the door, I began to punch numbers into the combination touch pad. I was suffused with an intense awareness of Hardy, so big and solid beside me. There was that scent again, insanely distracting.

I punched the last button, barely aware of what I was doing. Although I had used the combination pad a thousand times while I’d stayed there with Gage and Liberty, I must have hit a wrong number. Instead of clicking open, the lock emitted a series of beeps.

“Sorry,” I said breathlessly, trying to look anywhere but at him. “I pushed the wrong buttons. When that happens, it takes a few seconds to clear and reset. You can change the combination to any number you—”

“Haven,” he said quietly, and waited until I could bring myself to look up at him.

I gripped the door handle as if hanging on for dear life. I had to clear my throat before I could make a sound. “Wh-what?”

“Why do I make you so nervous?” His voice was soft, reaching inside me to a raw, tender place. A mocking smile touched his lips. “You afraid I’m going to make a move on you?”

I couldn’t answer. I can’t stand this, I thought desperately. Heat washed over me, color layering on color. My heart worked in painful beats. All I could do was stare at Hardy without blinking, my back pressing against the door while he bent over me. He moved closer, imparting the pressure of his body until I felt the touch of hard muscle in several places at once. I closed my eyes, mortified by the rapid gusts of my breathing.

“Then let’s get it over with,” Hardy murmured, “so you’ll stop worrying.”

His dark head bent. He eased his mouth over mine. I put my fists between us, my arms clasped over my chest in a tight blockade. I couldn’t make myself push him away, but neither could I let him hold me full-on. His arms went around me, the embrace firm but gentle, as if he were being mindful not to crush me. Our breath mingled, heat surging in restless rhythms.

His mouth shifted, catching at my top lip, then the lower one, opening them. Every time I thought the kiss might stop, it went on longer, deeper, and the back of my throat tingled as if I were being fed something sweet. I felt the silken stroke of his tongue . . . a soft taste . . . another . . . I went weak against him, dissolving in sensation.

His tenderness disarmed me until I almost forgot about the knot of fear in my stomach. I stood there breathing him, feeling him . . . but he was all around me, he could overpower me so easily if he chose. I couldn’t handle feeling that defenseless, no matter how gentle he was. Turning my mouth away from his, I broke the kiss with a whimper.

Hardy’s lips grazed the top of my head, and he released me slowly. He looked down at me, blue heat in his eyes.

“Now show me the apartment,” he whispered.

If you’re looking for a different sort of story, setting and characters, this book is for you. Set in late Victorian London, the story follows a leader of the suffragist movement, Caledonia Rivers. She’s a spinster whose whole life is the movement for women’s rights in England. She meets Hadrian St. Claire, a photographer, who has been asked to take her picture for a series of photographs to go along with the passage of a woman’s suffrage bill in Parliament. What, oh what, could happen? Probably anything and everything.

Hadrian has been blackmailed to take incriminating pictures of Callie by a high ranking Member of Parliament who wants to see her not only ruined, but vanquished. Hadrian has some gambling debts he needs to repay and has to accept the deal even though he doesn’t know Callie. However, Hadrian’s objectivity toward Callie falters when he sees she’s vulnerable as well as a well spoken leader of the suffragist movement.

Both Hadrian and Callie are very likable characters. Callie is a tall, voluptous woman, who was degraded when she was younger by her fiance. She has given up the rest of her life for the women’s vote because she doesn’t have the idea that she can be worthwhile to a man. Hadrian shows her through his attention and camera lens that she’s a beautiful woman and he also gives her the means to come out of her shell.

Hadrian is a different story. He’s had a harder upbringing, finally when he was 15 making it to an orphanage by the good graces of the prime minister William Gladstone. Before that Hadrian had been Harry Stone, son of a prostitute with a shady past. With Callie Hadrian sees that just surviving isn’t enough, that she is someone worth spending his life with.

Of course the whole sordid story of the payment for the photography comes out in the end, but what Hadrian does for the woman he loves helps to bring the MP to justice in a satisfying ending to the story. The fact that someone would go to such lengths is true, but done in an over the top sort of way. Also, the ties between the pasts of Hadrian and Callie seem sort of a stretch, but again, could have happened. The lives of the characters haven’t been easy and the societal hardships aren’t glossed over, whether Hadrian’s past or the treatment of the poor women of London.

The style and characters are well done as well as the setting, even if some of the plot devices are a little overdone. The next two books in the series follow fellow orphans of Hadrian’s, Gavin and Patrick, who are briefly introduced and help with some of Hadrian’s views that there’s more to life than just survival.

Grade: B

Blurb:

Known as The Maid of Mayfair for her unassailable virtue, unwavering resolve, and quiet dignity, suffragette leader, Caledonia —Callie — Rivers is the perfect counter for detractors’ portrayal of the women as rabble rousers, lunatics, even whores. But a high-ranking enemy within the government will stop at nothing to ensure that the Parliamentary bill to grant the vote to females dies in the Commons — including ruining the reputation of the Movement’s chief spokeswoman.

After a streak of disastrous luck at the gaming tables threatens to land him at the bottom of the Thames, photographer Hadrian St. Claire reluctantly agrees to seduce the beautiful suffragist leader and then use his camera to capture her fall from grace. Posing as the photographer commissioned to make her portrait for the upcoming march on Parliament, Hadrian infiltrates Callie’s inner circle. But lovely, soft-spoken Callie hardly fits his mental image of a dowdy, man-hating spinster. And as the passion between them flares from spark to full-on flame, Hadrian is the one in danger of being vanquished.

Read an excerpt (scroll down).

CONTEST! Comment here by noon CST [central standard time] according to the blog timestamp with what you like more: Hope Tarr’s historicals or her Harlequin Blaze’s. The prize is one of three copies of this book, all SIGNED by Hope Tarr!

Maybe it’s my mood, or my brain has melted, but this book just didn’t do it for me. I’m one of those readers that always wants more, more, more emotion. I wouldn’t mind if 90% of a book was just the characters developing their relationship. In fact, I prefer it. It’s why I read romance. I don’t need a sub-plot, no thriller or mystery, precocious child or serial killer. (Yes, an interesting list there.) While this book is all about Catherine’s angst and her relationship with her husbands - it didn’t grip me. The first 21 pages just said the same thing. A lot. Catherine is sad. She’s pregnant. She’s lonely.

I didn’t really relate to her, and I’m afraid I didn’t much like her. (Mind you I didn’t dislike her.) I expected Cat to be a “stands up for herself and knows her own worth” character. After all, she leaves her husbands on their fifth anniversary. However, a third of the way through the book, I realized… Catherine was flat. In fact, all of the characters were static. Cat’s neglected, the men are overworked, and they have really hot sex. Their personalities, quirks, mannerisms, all seem underdeveloped.

There was a distinct lack of depth, and I remain skeptical. The entire book - once the Cat Rhys and Logan meet up, is about them proving their love for Cat, and her believing they do. The words “I love you” are bandied about in what should be an extremely satisfying manner (I’m all for characters admitting their feelings). But… they felt a little empty to me. They were just words. In the most literal sense.

Inane things, such as actual procedure for an ultrasound, distracted me. Additionally, there were some minor gaps within the plot. The three characters would be together, then one would inexplicably disappear. There was one instance, however, that I clicked around to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I didn’t. He just vanished. For about 15 pages.

I love the premise of this story - a couple (group?) realizing their marriage has fallen apart, and working to make it succeed. The very heart and soul of romance. There’s also the added bonus of two men and one woman. What gal wouldn’t love to have two sexy and successful guys madly in love with her - enough to share her? What could be more exciting to read about? Sadly, this book was merely passable for me.

Grade: C-

      Summary: 

      Getting her back will be the toughest deal they’ve ever negotiated.

      On the night of her fifth anniversary, Catherine Cullen-Wellesley intends to break the news to the two men in her life. She’s pregnant with their child. It’ll be the perfect preamble to the vacation they’ve promised her: Two weeks on a Jamaican beach. No cell phones, no emails, no business.

     But when Logan and Rhys blow off the trip for yet another “business emergency”, Catherine faces some difficult truths. She hasn’t come first in her busy husbands’ lives in a long time. Defiantly, she packs her bags for her long-awaited vacation-alone. It’ll give her a chance to figure out what the hell she’s going to do with the rest of her life.

     When Logan and Rhys come home to an empty house, they realize two things: One, it was a mistake to take Catherine for granted. Two, they’re not willing to just let her walk out of their lives.

     Winning her back will be the most difficult battle of their lives-more important than any business deal they’ve ever negotiated.

     Warning: This title contains explicit sex, ménage a trois, a polyamorous relationship, graphic language, and sex near a beach (and in the shower).

     Read an excerpt.

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

© Lucy Monroe

ISBN-10: 0373235119
ISBN-13: 978-0373235117
August 2008 both UK & North America

PROLOGUE

“Please, Your Highness, let me alert the sheikh to your presence.” Agitation laced Grace’s usual even tones as the doors to Amir’s inner sanctum opened.

But then his family tended to have that effect on people – though rarely his always efficient and coolly composed personal assistant. Five years of exposure had almost made her immune, but an unexpected visit from a family member they’d both thought in Zorha was enough to unnerve even her.

Amir stood up behind his sleek glass topped desk. “I see you are still harrowing the help,” he said to the tall man who’d opened not one, but both of the double doors leading into Amir’s office.

Grace made an offended sound at his use of the word help while his brother simply strode into Amir’s office with a somber air that belied the possibility of a simple family visit.

“To what do I owe the honor of your arrival?” Amir asked.

He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but admitting knowledge was as good as admitting culpability and he was not willing to do that…yet. But he should never have gotten involved with Tisa. The sex-kitten had a love affair with the paparazzi that few could rival. However, at the time, Amir had needed a diversion badly and he had seen Tisa as the answer. For a while it had even worked.

Zahir did not answer, but simply stared at Amir for several tense, silent seconds. Being the youngest of three brothers had taught Amir many things, one of which was when it was politic not to talk. Now happened to be one of those times. He would not make the mistake of breaking the silence first.

He traded oblique look for oblique look with the man that could have been his twin but for the seven years that separated their ages.

They shared the same dark hair worn neither too short nor too long. While Zahir’s was styled in a way that reeked businessman, Amir wore his in an artful tousle. They also shared the same square jaw line, angular cheekbones and aquiline nose. All three brothers were tall, but he topped their brother Khalil by an inch and at six and a half feet tall, Zahir exceeded them both in height. Taking after their father, they all had whipcord lean bodies. Amir’s muscles bulged slightly more from his time in the gym while Zahir showed the development of a man who spent time several hours a week riding. They were both dressed expensively, but while Amir favored designers like Hugo Boss, his eldest brother wore cool Armani.

Their matching brown-eyed stares did not waver until Grace cleared her throat and both their attention swung to his willowy assistant.

Below her red hair pulled back into a severe bun, her perfectly formed nose was wrinkled with displeasure. Full pink lips adorned with nothing but clear balm tilted in a downward curve. Behind the narrow dark frames of her glasses, her hazel eyes shimmered with disapproval at the brothers’ stare down.

“Is this a meeting you need me for?” she asked Amir pointedly.

Bless her. Unquestionably loyal, she was letting his brother know that while Zahir might be in line to their father’s throne, it was Amir who called the shots here in his New York office. She was also subtly encouraging his brother to answer Amir’s initial inquiry without him having to repeat it.

Zahir might ignore him, but he would not show bad manners by dismissing Grace’s question with his silence.

Zahir stepped forward and dropped a tabloid on the desk. It was quickly followed by one after another, each folded open to the page of interest - if the story wasn’t on the cover. Which it was with most of them. Every headline screamed some lewd innuendo about The Playboy Prince and his latest conquest.

Amir grimaced.

Grace made another noise of disapproval. And Amir had no way of knowing whether that disapproval was directed at him or his brother for bringing the scandal sheets into his office. Grace didn’t think much of the revolving door in his bedroom, and she’d let him know it on more than one occasion.

Zahir looked at Grace. “You have something you wish to say, Miss Brown?”

Grace might be shy in most circumstances outside her role as his personal assistant, but here, she was in her element. No doubt, he was her employer. However, there was also no question that she reigned supreme in his office. At least in her own mind. They’d had a few discussions about that fact as well over the years.

She gave them both a look of displeasure. “I don’t know which one of you gets the wooden spoon for having the poorest taste, Amir for getting involved with a media hound or you for bringing that trash here into the office, Your Highness.” She straightened her inexpensive and incredibly banal suit jacket. “Regardless, I can see this is not a meeting I need to be included in, so I will take my leave.”

With that she left, closing the doors with a definitive double-snick behind her.

Zahir actually smiled. “I thought Mother was a tough audience.”

“Grace keeps me in line,” Amir said with some humor, while he willed his libido back into check.

These moments of attraction for his indispensable assistant were coming too frequently for his comfort. But the spark in her eyes when she chastised his brother and him had lit a fire somewhere else entirely in Amir.

Zahir shook his head. “I only wish that were true.” And just like that, the air of gravity was back.

“Tisa was a mistake,” Amir admitted.

“Yes.”

Amir refused to allow his pride to elicit offense at his brother’s honesty. Tisa had been a mistake. In more ways than one. “Are you here on your own, or did Father send you?”

“Father sent me.”

A cold fist tightened around Amir’s heart. Some might think that King Faruq sending his eldest son in his place was an indication that he did not place as high of an importance on the message as he would one he delivered personally. However, Amir knew that was not true. Sending Zahir said more than Amir wanted to hear about how disappointed in him his father truly was. It implied the king was so angry, he did not even want to see his youngest son.

“You know, I realize that Tisa courts the limelight a bit too much and maybe I showed up in more than one story with her, but damn it…I never moved in with one of my flings like Khalil did with his mistress. He lived with Jade for almost two years before he decided to marry her.”

And in any other universe that would have made Jade untouchable in the marriage stakes for a man in his family, but she had friends in high places. Their uncle had taken an interest in Jade and Khalil’s romance and seen to it that Jade had a place in the royal family of Zorha.

Zahir’s frown said how little he appreciated the reminder that his sister-in-law had been his brother’s live-in lover. “Misdirection will not undo the results of your actions.”

“You can assure the king that his youngest son will be more circumspect in choosing companions in future.” Amir’s jaw tightened against words he wanted to add, but would regret saying later.

“Unfortunately, such an assurance will not be enough. Our father has grown weary of you dragging the family name through camel dung. It is time for you to tame your wild ways permanently.”

Once again, Amir had to bite back words it would be impolitic to speak. But his father and brother’s attitude grated.

He was loyal to his family and to his people. He had put the needs of each ahead of his own on more occasions than he could count. He lived away from his desert home to oversee the royal family’s business interests. His position left him little time to himself and if he chose to spend that time with beautiful women in uncomplicated liaisons, how did that make him a bad person?

“I don’t date innocents or married women. My companions are aware of the transitory nature of our association before I ever take them on the first date.”

“So is the rest of the world.”

Amir winced, but he said, “So what?”

“Your lifestyle reflects negatively on our family and our people.”

“There is nothing wrong with my lifestyle.”

“Our father does not agree.”

“What does he want me to do, remain celibate?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

A brief flash of pity flared in his eldest brother’s dark eyes. “The king has decreed that you shall be married.”

The king? So, this was coming as a royal command. Camel dung was right. “And has he chosen my future wife?” Amir asked in disbelief.

Zahir had the grace to look at least a little uncomfortable. “Yes.”

“That’s positively medieval.”

Again that short flicker of pity, but then Zahir’s expression hardened. “Are you refusing the king’s command?”

Foreboding skated up Amir’s spine. He knew that to deny his father would come with a very heavy cost, maybe even his position within their family. His father almost never pulled royal rank, so when he did so, his family knew he would not be moved. If Amir refused to marry the woman his father had chosen, he might as well start looking for a new job. One that didn’t have prince in its title.

He had been raised to do his duty and could not imagine refusing his father, unless the dictate were so untenable he could not possibly live with it. This one was not.

“I will marry the princess…I assume the woman he’s chosen is a princess.”

“Actually, yes.” If Zahir was surprised by his youngest brother’s acquiescence, he did not show it.

“Who is it?”

“Princess Lina bin Fahd al Marwan.” Zahir dropped another sheet of paper on the desk.

This one was a single page dossier on the princess, including a picture of the beautiful woman. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The last thing he wanted was to marry for love and if he was honest, he would admit that the transitory nature of the women in his life was starting to get old.

He wouldn’t have chosen to marry for some time yet on his own, but he wasn’t completely against the idea.

Besides, he had his own reasons for wanting a more permanent distraction than Tisa and the others like her.

“When’s the wedding?” he asked.

CHAPTER ONE

“What did you say?” Grace felt like Amir had just punched her right in the solar-plexus, but all he’d really done was ask her a question.

“I want you to find me a wife.”

She closed her eyes and opened them again, but he was still there, her gorgeous, totally sexy, only man in the world for her boss. The expression of expectation on his too handsome face said he had actually made the request that she was desperately hoping had been a figment of her imagination.

Hadn’t it been awful enough when he’d announced to her a mere six weeks ago that his father had decreed Amir was to marry some princess from a neighboring sheikhdom? Grace’s heart had shriveled and come close to dying at how easily her usually independent and stubborn boss had so easily submitted to his father’s demand.

Then a reprieve had come for Grace’s bleeding emotions when Princess Lina had ended up eloping with an old flame and nullifying the contract the two powerful sheikh’s had signed. That had happened almost two weeks ago and Grace was just overcoming the jagged edges of pain left by the king’s edict and his youngest son’s acceptance of it.

Now Amir wanted her to find him a wife? Just kill her now because life couldn’t get much worse.

Okay, maybe it could, but even plain PAs has the right to their moments of drama.

“What? Why?” He was happy in his serial liaisons, or at least he’d always acted like he was.

Definitely, he’d never fallen in love with any of them. As far as she knew, (and she knew him better than anyone else in his life, including his family) Amir had not been in love since he was eighteen years old. Not that he admitted now that it had been love then.

But she knew the signs of a true and abiding love. Didn’t she live with them on a personal basis every day?

Amir had loved his Yasmine enough to ask her to marry him. They were only engaged for three months, the wedding less than month away (which in Grace’s mind showed just how much he had loved the other woman to press for such a speedy wedding) when Yasmine was killed in a freak accident. It was Grace’s personal belief that the loss of his first love had impacted Amir more strongly than he ever wanted to admit to himself or his family.

But even so, this was unbelievable.

“My father wants me to settle down,” Amir said with a shrug.

How could he be so blasé about this? Didn’t he care that he was breaking her heart into tiny, bitty, never to be put together again pieces? All right, so he didn’t know, but did that excuse him? The jury was still out on that one, just like it was out on the issue of the pain he caused her regularly with his little liaisons.

“But he hasn’t said anything about selecting another wife for you, has he?” she asked with desperate logic.

“No.”

“So…”

“I see no reason to wait on him to do so. If you find me a wife, at least I’ll have control over the final choice and will get married on my own terms, not his.”

Grace had to stifle a groan and the urge to smack her own forehead. She should have expected this. Amir was far too alpha to let another man choose his wife. Now that he’d been given a reprieve, rather than wait for his father to exert control again, he would pre-empt the king by acting on his own. She understood the reasoning, respected it even, but no way in the world was she going to help him.

That was simply asking too much.

“No.”

His dark chocolate eyes widened almost comically. “What do you mean no?” His shock at her refusal was so blatant, she could feel it like a physical presence between them.

“I mean that if you want to find a wife,” she said very slowly and very firmly, “you’ll have to do it on your own.”

The shock melted under his obvious discontent. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t make this kind of choice without your input.”

Her body jerked as if the words were knives directed at her heart rather than the backhanded compliment Amir intended them to be. “I’m not being anything of the sort. I’m your personal assistant, not a matchmaker. Finding wives is not even remotely in my job description.”

“That’s exactly right. Your title is personal assistant, not administrative assistant because you help me with more than just business.”

“The selection of a wife is way too personal.”

“No, it isn’t. You’ve picked out gifts for my companions, how is this any different?”

“How can you ask me that?” She loved this man more than her own life, but sometimes he was so dense she was tempted to question the obscenely high I.Q. level he was purported to have.

Amir leaned his hip against her desk and crossed his arms, a sure sign he was settling in for the siege. “We’re just arguing in circles here, Grace. I need your help.”

“No. I won’t do it.” She would never survive it.

It hurt enough to love him like she did and know there was no chance between the two of them, but to be forced to find a woman to hold the place she wanted more than anything? That was too much. Much, much, too much.

“Come on, Grace. Don’t let me down now. I’ll make it worth your while.”

That was all she needed, the promise of a bonus for doing the one thing she never, ever, ever, not in a million years, wanted to do.

“No.”

Before he could continue the argument, the phone rang and Grace leapt for it like a drowning victim going for a lifeline. When she managed to drag the call out past a minute, Amir’s natural impatience got the better of him and he pushed away from her desk.

The look he gave her over his shoulder said he wasn’t finished with their discussion however.

***

Amir paced his office. What was the matter with Grace? She’d been acting strangely ever since his father had insisted he marry. At first he’d thought it was because she was worried she’d lose her job when he took a wife, but he’d assured her the opposite was true. He couldn’t imagine trying to function without his insightful and efficient PA.

She’d continued to act oddly and had only settled down in the last couple of weeks. Since the marriage plans with Princess Lina had fallen through.

Try as he might though, he didn’t understand why Grace was balking at finding him a wife. She didn’t approve of his lifestyle any more than his father did. She’d made that clear enough, though she’d never gone as far as the king and suggest Amir resort to marriage.

He would think she’d want input into choosing the woman that would play a key role in her life. As his PA, Grace would no doubt find herself conferring with the woman Amir married in order to arrange schedules and the like. In fact, he would expect her to help select his spouse’s personal assistant so the two would work together seamlessly.

Grace had to know this wasn’t something he wanted, or even felt qualified, to do alone. She understood what he needed, often before he did. She would be able to find the best candidates to fill the role to compliment his life.

He wasn’t looking for love, but he didn’t want a wife who didn’t fit in with the lifestyle he was most comfortable living. Grace understood the sheikh under the Western clothing. She understood how important his family and home were to him, even if he lived in Manhattan and reveled in his New York existence.

He thought of how she had looked when he first asked her. Stunned. Totally shocked, which actually surprised him. He would have thought she would have foreseen this move on his part. She was usually much better at anticipating his actions.

She knew he didn’t want his father controlling his life, even if the older man was King of Zorha. If not now, then sometime in the future, his father would come back with another parentally approved bride. Amir’s only choice was to get there first. And he would have sworn Grace would realize that.

He had half expected her to have a list of suitable candidates already compiled. This intransigent refusal to help was completely out of character for her. Not to mention unacceptable.

It didn’t help that Grace was kind of cute when she was startled like that. It wasn’t a look he saw often and frankly, that was probably for the best. He couldn’t afford to ruin the most important relationship with a female that he had in his life for sex.

His mother might be hurt to know he placed Grace above her (and everyone else) in importance, but there was no contest. His PA impacted his reality in both big ways and the minutiae on a daily basis. No one had more influence on his day by day existence than she did.

Unfortunately, she was not the type of woman he could have a fling with and then go back to life as normal. Or he would have scratched this particular itch a long time ago. And he wouldn’t have ended up with Tisa either, thus preventing the subsequent edict by his father. Regardless, he recognized that working together afterward would be impossible.

He refused to risk something as important as his relationship with his perfect for him personal assistant for something as ephemeral as sex.

The fact that his desire to experience that side of his dowdy assistant was getting stronger all the time only enhanced his certainty that finding a convenient wife was the best course of action for him. Which meant he had to convince Grace to help him.

They both needed the protection. Because he knew that Grace would be far too easy to persuade into his bed. She watched him with an innocent hunger that had caused him to hide more than one hard-on behind his desk. He’d long since stopped questioning why a woman so unaware of and poor at showcasing her feminine attributes would affect him this way. He simply accepted that he craved pulling her long, curly mop from its tight bun and run his fingers through the red silk.

He also wanted to expose and taste the expanse of her alluring skin…the light dusting of freckles looked like sweet spice on the untouched creaminess. Did those delectable little dots cover her whole body? Were her delicious looking apple shaped breasts adorned with the cinnamon looking specks?

He adjusted the hardness in his trousers. Damnit. He had to stop thinking like this or he was going to have to start taking mid-afternoon showers – of the cold variety.

He must convince Grace to help him find a convenient wife…the only kind he wanted.

Memories of the one emotional entanglement of his life and its aftermath sent chills through his heart. No love. No intense emotional connections. He was never going there again. Not in his mind, not in his heart and definitely not in his life.

***

Grace settled into her seat beside Amir at Fenway Park. They’d flown to Boston on business and he had surprised her with Infield Dugout Box seats. She loved the Boston Redsox and any other time would be in absolute alt over his generosity. Only she had a bad feeling they were by way of a bribe.

He hadn’t said another word about her finding him a wife in almost a week, but she was too smart to think he’d forgotten about it. That wasn’t Amir’s way. She’d worked with him for five years and couldn’t think of a single instance he had ever given up something he wanted after only one argument. He was much too confident and strong willed to be easily dissuaded from a path he’d chosen.

And he’d made it clear he wanted her on that path, choosing with him.

This wasn’t right. Or even remotely fair. She should be enjoying the game. Instead, her mind was whirling with ways to convince Amir she meant business and fears that she wouldn’t be able to hold the line against him.

It was hard saying no to the man you loved, even if he saw you as a piece of handy office furniture.

Amir looked sideways at her. “Everything all right?”

“Yes. I’m really happy to be here. Thank you.”

The smile he flashed her was both sincere and incredibly sexy. “I am glad. And you are welcome. You deserve much more.”

Okay, so not a piece of office furniture. Guilt suffused her. She sighed. She’d be willing to bet that if asked, Amir would not only describe her as a top notch personal assistant, but he would claim they were friends too. And they were. The truth was, Sheikh Amir bin Faruq al Zorha was her best friend. She was pretty sure he considered her the same or close to it.

The problem for her was that she longed to be more than his friend and knew that could never happen. He was so far out of her league, she might as well be considered a player in pee-wees while he was definitely a top player in the major leagues.

None of which was anything new to her, so why was she allowing the situation to ruin her current experience? The answer was, she wasn’t going to. This was a wonderful treat for an obsessive baseball fan like her and she wasn’t going to diminish it with depressing, but old and familiar thoughts.

Grace forced her attention back to the men on the field. And if her senses were more in tune with the man beside her, no one had to know.

***

Amir had been biding his time before approaching Grace again about the issue of finding him a wife. Whatever had caused her to be less than receptive the first time around would not doubt get better with time.

This strategy had worked before. He would put an idea to Grace and give her time to think about it. If her first reaction was negative, more often than not she would talk herself into it more effectively than he could. Usually. He was hoping this was one of those times. But if it wasn’t, he’d taken care to soften her up with a trip to Fenway Park and was in the process of buying her a team jersey after a rousing win by her favorite team.

She’d chosen one that was made for men and obviously at least a couple of sizes too big. When he’d pointed out one that would have been more form fitting, she’d shaken her head.

He couldn’t complain about her propensity to wear either shapeless or oversized clothing (or both) because it was one of her habits that helped him control the frustrating desire that plagued him around her. Though even that habit was rather endearing.

He had never known a woman so clueless regarding her feminine appeal, or how to showcase it.

For this small mercy, he could only be grateful.

He waited until they were in the limo before broaching the subject on his mind and in the end, she made it easy for him.

She settled back against the leather seat facing him. “Okay, what gives? As if I didn’t know.”

He poured her a glass of lime Perrier and himself a finger of Absolut. Too bad she did not drink. Enhancing her malleability right now could only improve his cause. “If you already know, there’s no point in me saying it.”

She took the sparkling water. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head.

She took a sip, regarding him over the rim of her crystal tumbler.

“Thank you also for not denying that tonight has all been about buttering me up.”

Now that stung. “Do you really think so?”

She just shrugged, her hair for once not pulled up in a tight bun, but barely confined in a wild ponytail than made her look younger than her twenty-five years. She was dressed in a Redsox t-shirt he’d bought her the year before and a pair of jeans that made her legs look a mile long. Thank goodness, they were in her typical baggy style.

He gave her a chiding look. “You’re not being fair, Gracey-girl. And that’s not like you.”

She pouted, her lip protruding adorably and he had to slam down on the urge to kiss her.

“Oh, all right…it’s not all about buttering me up. Even if you didn’t have something you wanted, you probably would have arranged tickets for the game.” She rolled her eyes. “And bought me the jersey, which I’m sleeping in for the foreseeable future…so, thank you.”

The image of Grace in bed was not one he could afford, so he thrust it from his mind with ruthless precision.

“I might have gotten regular box seats.” Though he wasn’t stingey with her and she knew it.

Grace had few passions and baseball was one of them. He indulged her as much as possible. An excellent PA like her deserved a few perks.

“Maybe…but regardless, I know you aren’t above using my good mood and sense of gratitude toward you for your own ends right now.”

“If I were above it as you say, I wouldn’t be a very good negotiator, would I?”

“I suppose not.” She bit her bottom lip and looked out the window for several seconds of silence.

“What is holding your interest? It is simply the clogged traffic we encounter after every one of these events I’ve taken you to.”

She sighed and turned her attention back to him, her hazel eyes troubled. “You want me to find you a wife.”

“Yes.” He had her, he knew it. And no, he didn’t feel the least guilty for getting her in a moment of weakness.

She glared at him. “You think you’ve won, but you haven’t.”

“I will.”

Her frown grew more fierce, but she didn’t deny it.

“If you really wanted my cooperation, you should have arranged for me to meet Big Papi.” Her eyes glowed with something that disturbed him on many levels.

“I have no desire to introduce you to your hero. Sports stars like him could benefit from have a good personal assistant too. I will not lose you so easily.” He said the words as a joke, but felt them deeply.

Was he not willing to marry to protect her position in his life?

“You think so? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“I am not amused.” The idea of her leaving him to work for the Red Sox’s lauded designated hitter filled him with annoyance, even though he knew it was in no way possible.

She laughed, but then sobered almost instantly.

“I’m not saying I’m going to do it, but if I did, what are you looking for in a wife?”

The question took him unawares, though it shouldn’t have. He opened his mouth and closed it again immediately. Nothing came instantly to his normally agile brain.

She stared at him, the knowledge in her eyes growing. “You’ve got no idea, do you?”

“That’s why I asked you.”

“But Amir, this is your wife we’re talking about. I can’t just make a list of candidates and ask you to choose.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have to tell me what you want first!” For some reason, her agitation made him feel better.

“You know what I want.” Probably better than he did.

“You were happy with your father’s choice.”

“All but the fact that it was his choice, that is true.” Was that pain that chased so quickly across her features? She had no reason to be hurt. It must be the subdued lighting in the limo playing tricks on him. “I prefer to pick out my own wife,” he said when she did not respond.

“Then why are you demanding I do it?”

“It’s different, and you know it. Now stop being difficult.”

“I’m not the difficult one. How can you possibly expect me to do what you ask without giving me some guidelines in which to work?”

“Fine. She needs to be physically attractive.”

“Is that all?” Grace asked with a sarcasm few could match.

“No. She has to be cultured and diplomatic.”

“I see.” Her formerly animated attitude had become subdued.

Was his lack of helpfulness bothering her that much? “I want to marry a woman who will complement me and my position, both in the business world and within the political realm when I am operating within my role as sheikh-slash-prince.”

“I got that.”

“Oh.”

She sighed.

“I’m not sure what you mean by attractive.”

“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” He would not put it past her. His PA could be very stubborn and going passive aggressive was not beyond her repertoire.

“You think so? You once said you did not see what made Jade so special for Khalil. Obviously, you two have differing tastes. Most people do.”

“But you know the type of woman that attracts me. You’ve seen and spoken with, hell you’ve shopped for, the women I’ve dated.”

“But one must assume these women lack something, or you would have married one of them by now.”

“I am ready to marry. Perhaps if I had been before, I would be married to one of my former companions.”

“But you never loved any of them.”

“I don’t plan to love my wife either. This is a marriage of convenience.”

“So, then what difference does it make if your future wife is attractive, or not?”

“Now you are being naïve. A beautiful wife can only benefit me.”

“You mean like a trophy wife.”

I mean like a feminine companion that will add to my éclat, not detract from it.”

“That is so shallow.”

“It is realistic.”

Whatever.”

He had disappointed her…again. She was very good at her job, but still very innocent to the ways of the world. He decided to explain in a way that might embarrass her, but would not offend her sense of fairness.

“I do not wish the need to remain faithful to become a Purgatory for me, either.

“So, you plan to be?”

“Faithful? Yes, of coursse. The men in my family are not philanderers.”

“Everything you have listed up to now, is superficial…what about you and she having interests, likes and dislikes in common?”

“Not necessary. It’s not even preferred. As long as we are compatible in bed, we can live totally separate lives.”

She looked at him like she questioned his sanity, which was frankly a marginal improvement over her doubting his integrity.

“That’s not the best environment to raise children in, or didn’t you plan to be a father?”

“I do not have to be a besotted fool to be a good father.”

“Your parents love each other.”

“So?”

“Are you saying you don’t want that for yourself and your family? Not even a little?”

Thoughts of the only time he had ever known anything close bombarded his brain, leading to memories of Yasmine.

The time right after Yasmine died, his mind shied away from what those images, and the pain and wekness they represented. “Not everyone craves that kind of relationship. I definitely do not.”

Her frown was back full force. “With an attitude like that, it would serve you right if I did it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping.”

But she wasn’t listening, or at least she wasn’t looking at him. She was too busy glaring out the window again. What was her problem?

Was it possible his ultra efficient secretary who dressed like a dowd and never dated had a severely hidden but equally deep romantic streak? It would certainly explain her negative reaction to his proposed marriage of convenience…both the one his father had decreed and the one Amir himself was trying to facilitate with her help.

It would also explain why she never dated. Because no matter how dowdily she dressed, he knew other men had to have noticed the latent sensuality in his Grace. But apparently, she was waiting for Mr. Right…the knight in shining armor to come along and sweep her off her feet. In a way, he was glad she had this hidden streak of romanticism. It kept her working by his side rather than off dating and/or married to another man.

“Will you just think about it, Grace?” He played the card she’d never been able to ignore in the past. “Please.”

Her gaze slid to him, another expression he could not read settled in her hazel eyes. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

Victory was his, if he just waited.

Something of his certainty must have shown on his face because she pursed her lips with affront. “Don’t look so smug. I may yet say no.”

It was so unlikely as to be an impossibility, but he was savvy enough to her ways not to say so.

I don’t recall much more than going on and on and on about my lurve of Seize the Fire, Shadowheart, and The Hidden Heart. Along with how happy I was that I was introduced to romance with the book Shadowheart.

I am difficult. I know - you find this shocking - but if I had been reading romance for a while and discovered that the ‘smart romance‘ was Laura Kinsale and only her or her, Judith Ivory (I still think this is a big reason I can’t read her) and err oh someone else. And all the praise that is can be tossed on her at times in ways that makes it seem that if you hate her writing well… that is ok… romance needs stoopid readers too. ::pats head:: Hey it turns people off, I know shocking.

Of course, I also hate a trend as well. No seriously, if I walked in now, it would take a shit load of work to get me to pick up J.R. Ward. And uh, I loveses me some Ward. I admit d-i-f-f-i-c-u-l-t.

The point of this long winded post is Laura Kinsale is reprinting some of her out of print books with SOURCEBOOKS (not that I can find the info on the site).

And my personal fave is going to be back in print as of October 1, 2008 and without the horrid cover! [Ed.: a cover you can see if you float your cursor over the cover above.] WOOT! I must email mishy. Oh and it looks like it is on Fictionwise and has been there for a while (if you go by the release date which uh 2001?), Seize the Fire:

     Olympia St. Leger is a princess in desperate need of a knight in shining armor. Sheridan Drake, amused by Olympia’s innocence and magnificent beauty, but also intrigued by her considerable wealth, accepts the position of white knight. Unaware that Sheridan is a notorious scoundrel, Olympia willing allows herself to submit to his protection and potent embrace. Theirs is a love born in deception. But as they weather storms on the high seas and flee from nefarious villains, the love sparked by lies begins to burn uncontrollably. Taking shelter on a desert island paradise, the princess and dark knight battle overwhelming odds to keep their adoration burning bright.
     Read an excerpt.

via the Smartest Bitches.

My mother raised all three of us to be readers. I remember snuggling next to her on the couch with my head on her shoulder while she read to us. She says that all of us kids had our favorite books which we read over and over. Mine was Winnie-the-Pooh and the honey Tree. It was only a matter of time until I developed a taste for reading on my own. I’ve come a long way from the days of Winnie-the-Pooh, but my mom still influences my taste in reading.

It was Mom who introduced me to books that became favorites. Mom read me the book version of The Wizard of Oz after I came to love the movie. Mom read my first Nancy Drew book to me. Hell, she even read me the occasional Baby-Sitter’s Club book, which I never really got into but thought I ought to because they were popular. She didn’t have to read aloud to me, once I got old enough to start reading on my own, but even until I was a teenager I treasured the times that she would.

I’ll never forget the day Mom introduced me to my first real romance novel. I was ten years old, and it was shortly before school started. For some reason we were alone in the house and it was raining. Probably she didn’t know how else to keep me occupied, so she pulled out Phyllis Whitney’s Thunder Heights. I’m pretty sure the book I linked to is the one she actually had. Anyway, I was enchanted. Here was my first real grown-up book and I went on a huge Phyllis Whitney reading jag. I didn’t care that her formula was pretty much the same–you could always tell who the bad guys were, who the love interest would be, etc. I loved the exotic settings and the Gothic atmosphere.

Later I left romance, but I always kept coming back to it, invariably because of Mom. Mom encouraged me to read Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. I read Perfect and Almost Heaven both by Judith McNaught. More recently, Mom got me interested in Marjorie Liu, who is one of my favorite authors. Even if the books aren’t to my taste, (Mom loves Katie MacAlister, who I don’t see the appeal of at all), I’ll still try any author if it passes the Shannon’s mom seal of approval.

My mom has been a hugely influential person in my life. I am pretty sure that, both good and bad, I owe a lot of who I am to her. The fact that she made me love reading is just the tip of the iceberg as far as I’m concerned, but it’s something for which I’ll always be grateful to her.

Marissa Kincaid is a serial cheater dater. She only seems to date men who cheat. She and her friends decide to start a database of cheaters to warn other women of the horrible men who have broken their hearts.

Marissa decides to start with the first boy that cheated on her Trenton Jackson, he dumped her the night of the Sadie Hawkins dance and went to the movies with another girl. Trenton Jackson finds out and sees a way to get some great free publicity for his site DieHardAtlanta.com.

So Trenton starts a site called TheGirlLies.com and puts Marissa on it. Well a popular radio show gets a hold of it and invites the dueling duo to the studio to give an on-air interview. That’s when the sparks really start to fly. Speedy and Coleman move the two into an apartment for a week to see if they are still enemies at the end. If they are then Marissa and Trenton get a 7 figure add campaign for their sites.

I loved this story! It doesn’t hurt that Marissa’s friend Amy is a retired sex toy designer (which makes me want to read her story). It adds a lot of hilarity to this little tale. I love Petie the salt-n-pepper schnauzer, probably because I have two myself. They tend to carry non-appropriate things around in their mouths at the most inopportune moments! Great story, great love scenes, and a recipe to boot!