Get your fix... with the newest
time-travel Regency by Susanne Marie Knight! WISHING FOR A DUKE, is now
available.
WISHING FOR A
DUKE
Author: Susanne Marie
Knight
Genre: Time-Travel
Regency
Available electronically at Amazon.com and
Smashwords.com
Price:
$3.99
Price:
$10.99.
Buy link:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C7PDZ21J/ebook
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1406632
Print:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C7S5QVD5
Blurb:
A contemporary young woman thinks
she has everything she wants... until a hypnosis session changes her mind... and
her location!
SHE NEEDS A
DUKE
Self-sufficient Elaina Wattell is
on the verge of starting her own hairstyling business. All she needs is a little
monetary help from two men with the last name of Duke. What she gets is “help”
from a friend... and the herb thyme... and a common daisy. This peculiar mix of
items transports her back to in time to 1820. Once there, she meets a duke--a
real duke--and his adorable son. As she adjusts to the different lifestyle of
the nineteenth century, she tries to figure out a way that she can return home.
However, perhaps what she has been looking for all her life is now right before
her eyes.
HE... AND HIS SON... NEED
HER
Widower Charles Burnley, the
eighth Duke of Wolfeshire, has a void in his life. He wastes his time with his
“Wolfe” Pack, indulging in the excesses of the seven deadly categories of sin:
pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, and sloth. However, his young son,
Robert, is in desperate need of a mother. Prepared to interview Society’s
eligible females for a suitable duchess, Charles suddenly finds a most peculiar
young woman has somehow turned up on his estate. Elaina is definitely not an
appropriate choice, but his son is quite taken with her. The more Charles is
around Elaina, the more he becomes quite taken with her as well. Can a
high-in-the-instep duke convince the free-spirited Elaina to become his duchess?
Scene
Set-Up:
Charles, the Duke of Wolfeshire,
finds a strange interloper putting his son to bed. He questions the
woman.
EXCERPT
Charles pulled the interloper out
into the hallway. She was a pretty filly, he would give her that, however no
one, no one had access to his son that
he--Charles--had not first approved of.
Looking down into her brown
ringed with green eyes, he tightened his hold on her upper arm. “I repeat, who
the devil are you?”
The girl had the audacity to look
down her nose at him. “Unhand me, sir!”
And then she spoiled the severe
effect by grinning. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to use that line. So dramatic.”
His nostrils flared. He waited
for her to come to her senses.
Finally, she did. “Okay, you
don’t look amused. So, obviously, you don’t know me. My name is Elaina Wattell.”
She ran her gaze over him, lingering on his face. “I’m assuming your Robbie’s
father?”
“His name is Robert, you
brazen-faced baggage.”
He watched her lower lip tremble,
then she lifted her hand so that the candle was higher. Now her face was as
equally lit as was his.
“I don’t even know what a
brazen-faced baggage means. But listen, can we sort this all out tomorrow? I’m,
well, truthfully, I’m exhausted. I feel like I’d give my right kidney for a good
night’s sleep.” After staring at him, she then lowered her gaze and mumbled,
“Changing centuries is no way to spend a birthday.”
Who in God’s name was this girl?
Her dark hair gleamed in the candlelight, her smooth complexion showed no signs
of ravishes--not by time, disposition, nor chemically harsh cosmetic coverings.
She appeared to advantage in his mother’s simple day gown, however the
inadequate length revealed a comely set of ankles. She had a peculiar accent and
a very odd way with her words.
He yanked on her captured arm. “I
will have my answers now.”
Her lips extended mulishly. “I’m
an American. I come from New York, and that is, as you know, very far away. I’m
a hairstylist, what you might call a coiffeuse.”
Then, suddenly, she yawned.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “But I did tell you I’m bushed. It’s been quite a
day.”
She seemed to be unsteady on her
feet. Charles glanced around the darkened corridor but did not find what he was
seeking: a chair or bench for this girl to rest on. Traveling down the grand
staircase was out of the question; in the condition she was in, she would not be
able to navigate the steps. Plus, if any of his Pack, especially Nome, saw her,
then her dubious virtue might very well be
assaulted.
No, he would take her to the
sitting room in his bedchamber suite.
“Come with me.” He tugged on her
arm and walked toward his sitting room. “You may sit and then answer my
questions.”
She almost tripped on her own
feet. “But why can’t we wait until tomorrow? Honestly, the way I feel right now
I might just drop off to sleep standing on my
feet.”
He wanted to smile; he found her
complaining to be amusing, but he kept a stern face. “Just another minute and
you can sit on the settee. Here.”
He opened the door into the
sitting room. Fortunately the room was already lit with candles and oil
lamps.
She stepped inside and then
headed straight for the satin striped settee.
“Nice.” With that word, she sat,
set her head on the back cushion, and closed her
eyes.
“No.” He leaned over and shook
her shoulder. “You are not to sleep here.”
She was not listening to him.
Moving as sensuously as any woman he had known in his acquaintance, she wiggled
her way to a more comfortable spot.
“Too bad I can’t lie down,” she
huffed.
He pulled a chair closer to her
position and then sat in front of her. “No... Miss Wattell, is it? No, you are
not to lie down. You are to answer my questions. All of them. Why are you
here?”
She flashed her eyes at him. They
now appeared more brown than green. “I don’t know why. Have you heard of
hypnosis? My girlfriend wanted to try it on me, so she did. I closed my eyes and
then I woke up in the woods. Your woods. Your son... such a cute little boy...
he found me and brought me here.”
Her chest rose and fell so
peacefully. She closed her eyes once again. “Please, let me sleep. That’s all
there is to the story. Promise.”
He had to shake his head in
disbelief. Here this female was, in the presence of a duke, and all she wanted
of him was to allow her to sleep? Preposterous!
“You mentioned centuries, Miss
Wattell. And a birthday. Whose birthday?”
She snuggled in against the back
squabs. “My birthday. I’m twenty-four. Happy birthday to me. Ha.”
“Who gave you permission to play
with my son? To read to him? Sing to him? And even dare to kiss his forehead?
What manner of female are you?”
“I’m a tired female. And you’d be
too if you’d... well, never mind.” She glanced over at him. “Not that you’d be a
female. I just meant being tired.”
“Why are you wearing the
Dowager’s clothes?”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t
have anything else to wear here. No joke. Please let
me...”
Her eyes fluttered closed again,
but this time she was honest and truly gone to the land of
Morpheus.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Happy
Reading!
Susanne Marie Knight
Read outside the box:
award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist!
