On Sale Date: May 28, 2013
Today Pauline is just a serving girl in Spindle Cove but tomorrow... she'll be a Duchess?! It's a Spindle Cove Pygmalion story as only New York Times Bestselling author Tessa Dare can tell it.
What's a duke to do, when the girl who's perfectly wrong becomes the woman he can't live without?
Griffin York, the Duke of Halford, has no desire to wed this season-or any season-but his diabolical mother abducts him to "Spinster Cove" and insists he select a bride from the ladies in residence. Griff decides to teach her a lesson that will end the marriage debate forever. He chooses the serving girl.
Overworked and struggling, Pauline Simms doesn't dream about dukes. All she wants is to hang up her barmaid apron and open a bookshop. That dream becomes a possibility when an arrogant, sinfully attractive duke offers her a small fortune for a week's employment. Her duties are simple: submit to his mother's "duchess training"… and fail miserably.
But in London, Pauline isn't a miserable failure. She's a brave, quick-witted, beguiling failure-a woman who ignites Griff's desire and soothes the darkness in his soul. Keeping Pauline by his side won't be easy. Even if Society could accept a serving girl duchess-can a roguish duke convince a serving girl to trust him with her heart?
“I thought you didn’t have noble impulses.”
“Believe me.” He stared into her eyes and spoke the words without lewdness or irony. “I don’t.”
If he possessed a single grain of decency, he would have set her down long moments ago. Wicked as it made him, he loved the way she was clinging to his neck. As though the world around them were a vast, frozen waste and sharing the heat of his body was her only chance to survive. It was so easy to believe, for this moment, that she needed him. Needed his touch, his mouth, his heated breath. His bared, feverish skin all over hers.
Amazing, what acrobatic contortions the lusting male mind could achieve. He’d almost convinced himself that kissing her lush, sweet lips was the noble thing to do.
Almost. But not quite.
“I’ll put you down now,” he said.
And then she pressed her lips to his.
Praise and curses be heaped. The girl kissed him.
Beauty and the Blacksmith
On Sale Date: April 30, 2013
On Sale Date: April 30, 2013
Take a trip to Spindle Cove in New York Times bestselling author Tessa Dare’s gorgeous and sexy Regency romance.
Beautiful and elegant, Miss Diana Highwood is destined to marry a wealthy, well-placed nobleman. At least that’s what her mother has loudly declared to everyone in Spindle Cove.
But Diana’s not excited by dukes and lords. The only man who makes her heart pound is the village blacksmith, Aaron Dawes. By birth and fortune, they couldn’t be more wrong for each other ... but during stolen, steamy moments in the smithy, his strong hands feel so right.
Is their love forged strong enough to last, or are they just playing with fire?
How could she help staring? The man had wrists as thick as her ankle.
As always, he wore his sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing forearms roped with muscle. He pumped the bellows, commanding the flames to dance.
Broad shoulders stretched his homespun shirt, and a leather apron hung low on his hips. As he removed the glowing bit of metal from the fire and placed it on his anvil, his open collar gaped.
Diana averted her gaze—but not fast enough. She caught a moment’s glimpse of pure, superheated virility. Sculpted chest muscles, bronzed skin, dark hair...
“Behave yourself,” he said.
The words startled her breathless.
He knows. He knows. He’s realized that refined, perfect gently bred Miss Highwood comes to the smithy to gawp at his brute manliness. Behave yourself, indeed.
She felt ridiculous. Ashamed. Exposed.
He wasn’t speaking to her. He was speaking to his work.
“That’s it.” Perspiration glistened on his brow. With a steady hand and a low, rich baritone, he finessed the broken clasp. “Be good for me now.”
Diana turned her gaze downward, focusing on the floor. Neatly swept and fitted stones paved her half of the smithy, where visitors waited for their work. The ground around the forge was packed with black, smudgy cinders. And the border between the two could not have been more stark, or more meaningful.
Here was the division between customer and smith. The line between the world of a gentlewoman and a working man’s domain.
“There we are,” he said. “That’s the way.”
Oh, goodness. She could look away from this thick forearms and his muscled chest. But that voice.