Alone with a Rogue...with Sherry Thomas (+Giveaway)
Alone with a Rogue
on Christmas Eve with Sherry Thomas
on Christmas Eve with Sherry Thomas
About the Author:
Sherry Thomas is one of the most acclaimed romance authors working today. Her books regularly receive starred reviews from trade publications and are frequently found on best-of-the-year lists. She is also a two-time winner of Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA® Award. English is Sherry's second language—she has come a long way from the days when she made her laborious way through Rosemary Roger's SWEET SAVAGE LOVE with an English-Chinese dictionary. She enjoys digging down to the emotional core of stories. And when she is not writing, she thinks about the zen and zaniness of her profession, plays computer games with her sons, and reads as many fabulous books as she can find.
Sherry’s next book, The Burning Sky, volume one of her young adult fantasy trilogy, will be available fall 2013.
Alone with a Rogue on Christmas Eve
The cigarette burned slowly, with infinite patience.
Georgina watched as the shredded tobacco turned to a delicate gray ash. She tapped a finger against the cigarette. The ash, knocked loose, fell onto the fresh snow upon the balustrade. To either side of the balustrade, garlands of pine and holly had been hung, in recognition of the season, decked with snow and frosted with moonlight.
Georgina had never developed into a proper smoker. Occasionally she took a puff, holding the smoke for a moment in her mouth—not her lungs. But most of the time she lit a cigarette out of habit and affection, just to watch it in burn down—and to smell the familiar pungency of Elliot’s special blend.
“Lady Georgina.”
She turned around with a smile. “Why hullo, Beresford. When did you get here?”
Beresford was a man women smiled at, sometimes because they had ulterior motives, sometimes because they couldn’t help it. Georgina fell into the latter category—she felt very affectionate toward him. And it certainly didn’t hurt that he was wonderfully easy on the eyes, a spare, elegant build and a face one’d find on the Parthenon.
“I arrived half an hour ago. You know I never miss your mother’s birthday.”
Her mother was born on Christmas eve. And her birthday was always an occasion for gathering family and friends from far and wide. “No, indeed, we can always count on her favorite scoundrel to delight her.”
Beresford approached the balustrade, his gait leisurely, fluid. “My goodness, a man gambles a little, drinks a little, and carouses a little, and suddenly he is a scoundrel. Do we no longer require dishonesty or actual criminality before we label a man so?”
His tone was light and teasing. So she teased right back. “Not when we like said scoundrel.”
“Do we?”
Was it her imagination or had his voice turned huskier? “We do,” she answered brightly. “Why, at tea, my friends were all wondering why you wouldn’t sleep with them.”
Her language was blunt. But then she’d known Beresford for almost a decade. Moreover, he had been her husband’s best friend. Surely, one was allowed to be more direct before a chum of such long standing?
Beresford extracted a cigarette case from his pocket. “I’ve slept with one of your friends.”
“Mrs. Liddell is an acquaintance, not an intimate.”
He cast her a somewhat incredulous and slightly scandalized glance. “You want me to sleep with your intimates?”
She laughed. “I never said that, only that they are curious why you haven’t.”
“Well, let’s see.” He tapped a cigarette on the ivory-inlay case. “Mrs. Claughton is too much of a romantic—she’ll want me to write sonnets for her. Lady Piercy isn’t interested in a lover—she just wants to make her husband rush back to her side. And Mrs. Fulford, she would be a rollicking good time, I’ve no doubt, but I’m not sure I want Society to know all the particulars of my lovemaking and she rather lives to broadcast those details.”
He lit his cigarette, took a long drag, and expelled a stream of smoke into the night air, the biting scent heart-tuggingly familiar. For some reason it always came as a surprise for Georgina to remember that Elliott’s special blend had actually been—and was still—Lord Beresford’s.
“And as for you,” said Beresford, pausing to take another puff on his cigarette.
She blinked. She was never part of that conversation. She’d only giggled at her friends’ not terribly serious schemes to get into his trousers.
“As for you,” he repeated himself, turning to look at her fully in the eye. “I don’t sleep with you because your husband was my best friend and his widow is off limits to me.”
Her heart thudded. What did he mean? That had her late husband been anyone else, he would now be actively in pursuit of her favors?
She didn’t reply—she was not one to randomly reach for words when she didn’t know what to say. Her silence seemed very prominent on the terrace, louder than the stiff breeze. Louder than the sound of merriment spilling from the house.
He took a few more drags on his cigarette, stubbed it out, and inclined his head—this time, without quite meeting her eyes. “I will leave you to enjoy your solitude some more, my lady.”
And then he was gone. A few minutes later, across a bank of French doors , he reappeared inside the house, , one festive silhouette among many.
~*~*~*~
Available Now:
Helena Fitzhugh understands perfectly well that she would be ruined should her secret love affair be discovered. So when a rendezvous goes wrong and she is about to be caught in the act, it is with the greatest reluctance that she accepts help from David Hillsborough, Viscount Hastings, and elopes with him to save her reputation. Helena has despised David since they were children—the notorious rake has tormented her all her life. David, on the other hand, has always loved Helena, but his pride will never let him admit the secrets of his heart.
A carriage accident the day after their elopement, however, robs Helena of her memory—the slate is wiped clean. At last David dares to reveal his love, and she finds him both fascinating and desirable. But what will happen when her memory returns and she realizes she has fallen for a man she has sworn never to trust?
Get Your Copy Today:
Sherry is giving away a copy of her book, Tempting the Bride, to one lucky commenter (Open Internationally)! Make sure to leave a meaningful comment below AND fill out the rafflecopter!
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On the 12th Day of Christmas My True Lord Gave To Me...with Sherry Thomas (+ Giveaway)
12 Rakes Cavorting- with Sherry Thomas
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| Photo by: Jennifer Sparks Harriman |
Her story is all the more interesting given that English is Sherry's second language—she has come a long way from the days when she made her laborious way through Rosemary Roger's SWEET SAVAGE LOVE with an English-Chinese dictionary. She enjoys digging down to the emotional core of stories. And when she is not writing, she thinks about the zen and zaniness of her profession, plays computer games with her sons, and reads as many fabulous books as she can find.
Sherry is available to speak to writers groups on the intimate particulars of craft as well as the ins and outs of publishing.
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Background: The couple in the scene are the hero and the heroine of my Oct 2012 release, TEMPTING THE BRIDE, which is the third book of the Fitzhugh Trilogy and will following BEGUILING THE BEAUTY in May and RAVISHING THE HEIRESS in July.
Elissande Edgerton is a desperate woman, a virtual prisoner in the home of her tyrannical uncle. Only through marriage can she claim the freedom she craves. But how to catch the perfect man?
Lord Vere is used to baiting irresistible traps. As a secret agent for the government, he’s tracked down some of the most devious criminals in London, all the while maintaining his cover as one of Society’s most harmless—and idiotic—bachelors. But nothing can prepare him for the scandal of being ensnared by Elissande.
Forced into a marriage of convenience, Elissande and Vere are each about to discover they’re not the only one with a hidden agenda. With seduction their only weapon against each other—and a dark secret from the past endangering both their lives—can they learn to trust each other even as they surrender to a passion that won’t be denied?
This is not a scene from a book but rather from the previous Christmas, shortly before the timeline for the entire trilogy begins.
Helena Fitzhugh looked about the library. She was under the impression that Andrew would meet her here. Most of the other gentlemen had left to shoot pheasants with her brother and most of the ladies had gathered in the solarium to while away a winter morning chatting and playing parlor games. She and Andrew would have a lovely hour alone.
But Andrew was nowhere to be seen. Baffled, she headed toward the door. Viscount Hastings, her brother Fitz’s best friend, appeared in the doorway, blocking her path.
“I see we’ve met under the mistletoe, Miss Fitzhugh.”
Helena looked up. Sure enough, there it was, a sprig of green leaves and milky berries, tied with a bright red ribbon—something she’d yet to see anywhere else at Henley Park.
She glanced at Hastings. “You mean, you have maneuvered me here in the hope of gaining a kiss?”
He smiled and braced a hand on the door frame. A big man, Hastings. He’d rowed for Eton and Oxford and still retained a rower’s powerful build. “Am I that transparent?”
“Like the walls of a greenhouse, my lord Hastings.”
He was entirely unchastened. “You’ve always said you like a man of purpose. It was a near nigh impossible task to lure a lady as clever and wary as you into my depraved clutches—which goes to show you how much thought and exertion I put into this undertaking. You ought to reward me on the principle of the matter alone.”
She tsked. “I really ought to, ought I not? Alas, I’m afraid I cannot consider plotting to get me under the mistletoe, however difficult a task, a worthwhile endeavor.”
He looked her up and down. “Then kiss me because you want to.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
If one analyzed Hastings feature by feature, he probably wouldn’t be called handsome. But the whole was greater than the sum of the parts and he had long been considered a highly attractive man--proof that God was sometimes absent-minded and gave gifts where none were deserved.
“You mistake my amusement at your conduct, sir,” she said firmly. “I laugh at you, not with you. And I do not like rakes at all.”
“Neither do I, as a matter of fact.”
“You are a rake, Hastings.”
His eyes widened. “My goodness, that is terrible. How did that happen? I was such a good little boy once.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but she did find their banter enjoyable on occasion. Such as now. “Don’t sound so surprised, Lucifer himself was once an angel. Anything can happen when you decide to cavort in sin.”
His eyes were the warm color of cinnamon. His gaze, however, was as hot as whisky going down her throat. “I sense in you a kindred capacity for sinning, Miss Fitzhugh.”
She felt a flutter of nerves. Did he know about Andrew? Surely he couldn’t.
“You imagine things, Hastings.”
“Don’t try to deny it—I am never wrong on these matters.” He stepped closer. “Why have you never chosen to sin with me, Miss Fitzhugh?”
She was not about to let him intimidate her. She leaned in also. “I have standards, sir. I require my partners in sin to be sincerely devoted to me.”
“I have been sincerely devoted to you ever since we first met lo these many years ago,” he murmured.
He had a voice as seductive as moonlight. She hardened her resolve. “You say that to all your women.”
“Not all. Far from it.”
She ignored the quiver brought on by those softly spoken words. “One of your past lovers is deaf, if I’m not mistaken. It doesn’t count if you neglected to say it to someone who anyway couldn’t hear. Now won’t you be so kind and let me pass unmolested?”
“You’ve come closer to me, Miss Fitzhugh. You are daring me to kiss you.”
Was she? She did not plan to find out. “How well you read my every last hidden intentions, Hastings,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “Why, instead of keeping you at an arm’s length out of honest disdain, I must have been secretly scheming to drive you mad with desire.”
“No scheming necessary, Miss Fitzhugh. You drive me mad with desire by merely existing.”
He excelled at sweet nothings. And from time to time, as much as she hated to admit it, some of those sweet nothings lingered in her mind, like caresses. “Oh, you are good, Hastings. You must be the poet laureate of the rakes.”
“Lust drives all life and therefore all artistry. And what is the urge to mate but the most primal urge to create and bring something new into the world?”
“A musician too. You are conducting a veritable crescendo of passionately empty declarations.”
He bowed slightly. “As long as I leave you breathlessly satisfied afterwards, Miss Fitzhugh.”
She grew warm. “That you do by merely existing, Hastings. Every time I look upon I’m breathlessly satisfied that I’ve never felt the slightest compulsion take up with you.”
He gazed directly into her eyes. “Liar. You’ve felt the compulsion all right. You’ve let your prejudice stand in the way of our pleasure.”
She took hold of his jaw, freshly shaven and smooth. “Then think of my suffering these many years for the want of you, Hastings. My flesh, my heart, my soul—all parched with yearning. Caught in a maelstrom of feverish desires, desperate for the sweetness only you can offer.”
His breath quickened--as did hers. His lips were well-molded and sensuous. And for all his dissipation, he smelled wholesome, like newly woven tweed—with a hint of pipe tobacco.
They were under the mistletoe after all.
She let go of his jaw and ducked out from underneath his arm. And when she was safe from his grasp, she said over her shoulder. “Alas, it appears I must suffer more lonely unfulfillment in the years ahead.”
“Witch,” came his response behind her.
She was pleased as she sauntered away—and completely breathless.
###
Want some more of Sherry Thomas' work?
Elissande Edgerton is a desperate woman, a virtual prisoner in the home of her tyrannical uncle. Only through marriage can she claim the freedom she craves. But how to catch the perfect man?Lord Vere is used to baiting irresistible traps. As a secret agent for the government, he’s tracked down some of the most devious criminals in London, all the while maintaining his cover as one of Society’s most harmless—and idiotic—bachelors. But nothing can prepare him for the scandal of being ensnared by Elissande.
Forced into a marriage of convenience, Elissande and Vere are each about to discover they’re not the only one with a hidden agenda. With seduction their only weapon against each other—and a dark secret from the past endangering both their lives—can they learn to trust each other even as they surrender to a passion that won’t be denied?
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Note: Sherry Thomas' back list ebooks are on sale (for Kindle & Nook readers). All ebooks are $3.99
**Giveaway**
In honor of her post today, I'll be giving away (gifting) a winner's choice of whichever back list book they've taken a fancy too :) That's right! 1 lucky commenter (with a Kindle or the FREE Kindle PC app) will get one of Sherry's books under their electronic Christmas tree this year! Just make sure to leave a comment and fill out the raffle copter form!
Don't Forget to head over to Ramblings From This Chick and read Sara Lindsey's special holiday scene (plus ener her giveaway)
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Don't Forget to head over to Ramblings From This Chick and read Sara Lindsey's special holiday scene (plus ener her giveaway)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
**Grand Prize Giveaway**
On behalf of myself, Dani and a whole host of generous and awesome authors, we will be having one BIG Grand Prize given away to 1 lucky winner. The grand prize consists of a mix of books, swag, and lots of other secret goodies. Believe me, you want to enter to win this prize. Just make sure to leave a comment everyday on each post on both blogs and fill out this form. That's it. Super easy! Good Luck everyone and Happy Holidays!
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