Promo: New Time-Travel Regency-- WISHING FOR A DUKE Excerpt

 


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

Print:

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

http://www.susanneknight.com

Read outside the box: award-winning Romance Writing With A Twist!


  • Digg
  • Del.icio.us
  • StumbleUpon
  • Reddit
  • RSS

0 comments: