Cover art by The Write Designer
Blurb for PROTECTING THE DUKE (The Rakes of St. Regent's Park #1)
The fact that women couldn’t join the London Metropolitan Police was an injustice to Eleanora Galway. She found her way around such an obstacle: by forming a detective agency. When a note arrives from a duke concerning a mysterious and gruesome delivery, Eleanora agrees to investigate.
Despite the pursuit of pleasures by The Rakes of St. Regent’s Park, weariness and boredom were setting in. Along with stark loneliness. No one felt this more than Christian Bamford, Duke of Allenby. Once the Galway Agency arrives, Christian is fascinated by Eleanora and her razor-sharp deductive mind and bold confidence. She attracts him as no other woman has done before.
When Christian proposes assisting her with her inquiries, Eleanora initially balks. But the temptation of being in the darkly handsome duke’s company is hard to resist. Swept up into an adventure and a passion neither had counted on, the blending of unlikely lives, occupations, and societal standing seems insurmountable. But for the independent Eleanora and the progressive-minded Christian, nothing is impossible. Not even love.
THE RAKES OF ST. REGENT'S PARK SERIES
In a
private meeting place, in an old bank office behind Colosseum Terrace on Albany
Street, a group of gentlemen attended a gathering. It had nothing to do
whatsoever with financing, investments, or stocks—unless you counted moral bankruptcy.
The central rules of this club: no serious attachments to anyone, and the pursuit of one’s own pleasures, especially of the carnal variety, were to be of
the utmost importance.
But
weariness and boredom were setting in. Along with something more worrying:
loneliness. A disquiet of the soul. These bad boy peers of Victorian London
were damaged, hiding their inner torture beneath a thin veneer of
devil-may-care dissoluteness.
It
takes an exceptional group of women to capture the hearts of such men. To see
past the outer shell. The ladies are determined to live and love in their own
way, with no relinquishment of their independence and no compromises. How
satisfying to find that deep down, these progressive men are in total
agreement.
BUY LINKS:
“Are you otherwise engaged for this dance?” he asked her.
“No, I am not,” she replied frostily.
Yes, she is good.
Eleanora was every inch the glacial heiress right down to
the posh accent. Her husky voice had his heart thumping against his ribcage. He
held out his arm, and Eleanora lightly placed her hand upon it, allowing him to
lead her to the dance floor.
“What are you doing,” she ground out softly through gritted
teeth.
“I could ask you the same thing, Miss Galway.”
“I’m not a good dancer. You will expose my charade,”
she whispered furiously.
Gathering her as close as propriety allowed, he immediately
whirled her about the dance floor, a slight gasp of surprise leaving her
luscious lips.
“I am an exceptional dancer, all part of my blue blood
upbringing and training.” He gave her a teasing wink.
Christian abruptly swirled her along the perimeter of the
room, and a smile curled about her lips, her eyes bright.
“We are being watched,” Eleanora whispered furiously, as she
cast glances at the crowd.
“Of course, we are. After all, I’m a duke.” He gave her another
teasing wink. “Everything I do causes speculation. I haven’t danced with a
young lady at a social event such as this for quite some time. It would excite
comment. It will no doubt make the society pages.”
“Drat it, the last thing we want is to draw attention,” she
admonished, her fingers digging into his shoulder.
“Too late.” Christian dared to pull her close, enough that
the hem of her gown landed between his legs with each turn about the marbled
floor.
By God, she felt right in his arms. Eleanora was almost
looking him in the eye; he liked that. Her waist was trim, her shoulders broad.
He liked that too.
A warrior goddess.
In his mind’s eye, he pictured her clad in armor and
wielding a sword, leading an attack into a horde of barbarians. The thought
aroused him further.
“You look exquisite tonight,” Christian ventured, his voice
low and hoarse. “You’re shimmering like an ingot of gold. The gown is becoming,
a compliment to your coloring, and dare I say, your luxuriant figure?”
Yes, he was flirting and teasing, and having more fun than
he had had in an age. “Or perhaps you’re similar to a butterscotch sponge cake
with chocolate ganache. I wonder if your succulent lips taste as sweet?”
Eleanora laughed, and he was pleased that she was taking his
light-hearted banter in the way that he intended. Her full-throated chortle
caught the attention of all around them. Christian joined in as he pivoted her
in the reverse direction. As far as he was concerned, he could dance with her
all night.
Everywhere Eleanora touched him, her hand on his shoulder,
her other hand resting lightly in his, ached with awareness. The laughter ended
with a smile, one so dazzling it covered him with a flourishing warmth that
swiftly flared to a roaring flame.
How tempting it would be to nuzzle her soft neck, inhale
more of her glorious scent. Eleanora was not awash in lavender as was the
fashion these last years, but hers was more of a spicy mixture. It appealed to
him.
What Christian wanted to know is: did she apply it directly
to her soft skin or her garments? The thought of her elegant fingers trailing
across her naked skin made him moan softly. Thankfully, the loud music masked
his indecorous reaction.
Gently, he squeezed her hand, his thumb caressing her
knuckles. Eleanora’s eyes widened. Her hand, the one resting on his shoulder,
moved slightly in a circular motion, caressing him in return. Every part of him
was aware and alive as never before. Briefly, he pulled her closer until her
breasts mashed against his chest. The contact seared, and his eyes narrowed
with desire.
To Eleanora’s credit, she did not pull away. Instead, she trailed
the tips of her fingers along the valley of his spine. He growled in response.
The spell broke as the music came to a crescendo. The dance
ended far too soon. Christian came to an abrupt stop, and their gazes locked.
The room was quiet, or perhaps all faded away, leaving no one but he and
Eleanora. Her chest was rising and falling from their exertion. Several beats
passed before their hands slowly moved away from shoulders and waists.
Eleanora curtsied, her head down, and she murmured,
“Tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. One forty-nine Cleveland Street. I have
questions.”
“So do I, Miss Galway. Many of them.”
She whirled about and glided away from him before he even
had the chance to escort her back to Miss Castle. Perhaps it was for the best
as they had attracted far too much notice. But he couldn’t help himself; he had
to hold her in his arms.
It had been absolutely glorious.
Author's Note
Book 1 is an all-new historical romance set in 1897 Victorian London, and I will be folding in already published standalone historical romances into this series (revised, of course) The new edited books have been uploaded!
THE BARON AND THE MISTRESS (The Rakes of St. Regent's Park #2)
BUY LINKS:
AMAZON--> https://tinyurl.com/ru4fvyzz
NOOK--> https://tinyurl.com/7m8xm5pw
KOBO--> https://tinyurl.com/5pxru9eb
iTUNES--> https://tinyurl.com/22v58swz
GOOGLE PLAY--> https://tinyurl.com/y4kc6vwb
KNIGHT OF CHRISTMAS (The Rakes of St. Regent's Park #3)
BUY LINKS:
AMAZON--> https://tinyurl.com/j39axmv4
NOOK--> https://tinyurl.com/8c3sp3dm
KOBO--> https://tinyurl.com/mr5trvur
iTUNES--> https://tinyurl.com/4uhrt3jn
GOOGLE PLAY--> https://tinyurl.com/m3yevhjp
Book 4 is a historical romance that I received the rights back to years ago. Also reworking/revising that. The working title is THE DUKE OF PAIN coming soon! Also book 5 is in the planning stages, ( all new) stay tuned!
Karyn Gerrard is a multi-published author from Canada. She loves to write sensual historical and contemporary romances. Tortured heroes are an absolute must.
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