Available:*
Library | Call Number | Status |
---|---|---|
Searching... Oakdale Library | PB ROMANCE MED | Searching... Unknown |
Bound With These Titles
On Order
Summary
Summary
A new enchanting historical romance from a "superb storyteller" ( Booklist ) and New York Times bestselling author featuring a handsome, brooding Earl who finds himself drawn to his prim and proper housekeeper.
Hell hath no fury like a bridegroom scorned in this scintillating romantic adventure from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author TERESA MEDEIROS
Maximillian Burke prides himself on being the man every mother wants her daughter to marry, but after his scoundrel brother steals his bride, Max decides there's more satisfaction in being a rogue than a gentleman. He flees London for lonely Cadgwyck Manor, and though the tumbledown estate comes complete with a ghost, it's Max's no-nonsense housekeeper who haunts his dreams.
Prim and proper Anne Spencer could do without a new master, especially one as gorgeous and temperamental as the Earl of Dravenwood. Even as she schemes to be rid of him, she is irresistibly drawn into his muscular embrace. But when Max vows to solve the mystery of the White Lady of Cadgwyck, he risks both their hearts and tempts them to surrender to a pleasure as delicious as it is dangerous.
Author Notes
Teresa Medeiros lives in Kentucky with her husband, Michael, four cats, & one floppy-eared Doberman.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (3)
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Maximillian Burke, Earl of Dravenwood, has been a true gentleman and model citizen most of his life. But when his brother steals the woman he loves, Max turns into one of the most notorious rogues in London. He then resigns as chair of the Court of Directors of the East India Company, much to his father's dismay, and heads to the far outreaches of the family holdings, Cadgwyck Manor. Neither Annie Spencer nor the other residents there want a master in the house. They're doing quite well on their own, thank you. To discourage noblemen who intend to take possession of the estate, Annie and the rest of the meager staff do their best to make the place as uninviting as possible, even creating a dreadful specter, the White Lady of Cadgwyck, that makes potential masters flee in horror. But Annie's best, spookiest efforts fail to make an impression on the jaded Max. This is quintessential Medeiros (The Pleasure of Your Kiss, 2011), who, as readers know well from her impressive body of work, never fails to entertain.--Mosley, Shelley Copyright 2010 Booklist
Kirkus Review
After his fiancee abandons him at the altar to marry his brother, Max Burke flees London for the isolation of a ramshackle, reputedly haunted castle in Cornwall, where he'll contend with a surly, secretive staff, a mesmerizing portrait of a woman-turned-ghost and a housekeeper he's tempted to strangle--or seduce. Maximilian Burke has spent his life following the rules and living up to his father's expectations, while his brother tested boundaries at every turn, landing him the girl they both loved. After months of playing the rogue, Max can't stand either the man he was or the one he's turned into, so he escapes from society to Cadgwyck Manor, his family's recently acquired estate on the Cornwall coast, believed to be haunted by the wild, beautiful girl who'd brought her family to ruin and then jumped to her death in the sea. Even while heartsick and lonely, Max understands that things are not quite as they seem at Cadgwyck, and Miss Ann Spencer, the seemingly prim and proper housekeeper, hides any number of secrets behind her pretty eyes. As Max searches for clues to the mystery of the ghost, and Ann attempts to thwart his efforts at every turn, their actions will rouse a silent enemy looking for justice and place the entire household in grave danger--forcing Ann and Max to join forces and face their growing attraction. Medeiros is a beloved, best-selling romance author, and she doesn't disappoint with this follow-up to The Pleasure of Your Kiss (2012). Readers are swept into a lively, moving historical romance that is textured and dynamic, with humor, passion and a subtly intriguing ghost mystery that the reader will learn the answer to early on but will remain invested in as Ann, Max and the other players unwrap layers of secrets, guilt, despair and desire. Engaging characters, a tight, well-drawn plot that is complex and captivating, and an overall tone that manages to be both lighthearted and emotionally lush make this a sweet, fun and satisfying read.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
Forced by scandal to leave his reckless London life, Maximillian Burke, Earl of Dravenwood, heads for the wilds of Cornwall to see to the management of Cadgwyck Manor, one of his family's recent acquisitions. However, instead of finding a peaceful, remote retreat, he is greeted by a neglected, unkempt mansion; inedible food; a ragtag staff; and Anne Spencer, his prim, businesslike housekeeper. The estate has been plagued by tragedy, is feared by the townsfolk, and is haunted by the ghost of Angelica -Cadgwyck, the elusive White Lady. Naturally, things aren't at all what they seem and secrets abound-secrets that Max knows he must uncover but ones Anne is determined to conceal. VERDICT A pair of deeply wounded protagonists who must learn to forgive themselves, a charming group of secondary characters, and a complex, well-crafted plot result in a tale that is beautifully linked to the author's The Pleasure of Your Kiss. With deliciously Gothic touches, this novel is another winner for the talented, Kentucky-based Medeiros. (c) Copyright 2013. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
The Temptation of Your Touch Chapter One MAXIMILLIAN BURKE WAS A very bad man. He watched a tendril of smoke rise from the mouth of the pistol in his hand, trying to figure out exactly when he had embraced the role of villain in the farce his life had become. He had always been the honorable one, the dependable one, the one who chose each step he took with the utmost care to avoid even the possibility of a stumble. He had spent his entire life striving to be the son every father would be proud to claim as his own. The man any mother would want her daughter to marry. At least that's what everyone had believed. It was his younger brother, Ashton, who had gone around getting into brawls, challenging drunken loudmouths to duels, and facing the occasional firing squad after stealing some priceless relic--or woman--from a Middle Eastern potentate. But now Ash was comfortably settled in the family's ancestral home of Dryden Hall with his adoring wife and their chattering moppet of a daughter. A daughter, according to gossip, who had been blessed with her mother's flaxen hair and laughing green eyes. A daughter who should have been his. Maximillian briefly closed his eyes, as if by doing so he could blot out the image of the niece he would never see. While Ash enjoyed the domestic bliss that should have been Max's with the woman Max had loved for most of his life, Max stood in a chilly Hyde Park meadow at dawn, his expensive boots coated in wet grass and the man he had just shot groaning on the ground twenty paces away. Ash would have laughed at Max's predicament, even if a drunken slur cast on Max's sister-in-law's good name had prompted it. Max could not seem to remember Clarinda's honor was no longer his to defend. When he opened his gray eyes, they were as steely as flints. "Get up and stop whining, you fool!" he told the man still writhing about in the grass. "The wound isn't mortal. I only winged your shoulder." Clutching his upper arm with bloodstained fingers, the young swell eyed Max reproachfully, his ragged sniff and quivering bottom lip making Max fear he was about to burst into tears. "You needn't be so unkind, my lord. It still hurts like the devil." Blowing out an impatient sigh, Max handed the pistol to the East India Company lieutenant he had bullied into being his second and stalked across the grass. He helped the wounded man to his feet, gentling his grip with tremendous effort. "It's going to hurt more if you lie there whimpering until a constable comes to toss us both into Newgate for dueling. It will probably fester in that filth and you'll lose the arm altogether." As they crossed the damp grass, the young man leaned heavily on Max. "It wasn't my intention to give offense, my lord. I would have thought you'd have thanked me instead of shooting me for being bold enough to say aloud what everyone else has been whispering behind your back. The lady in question did jilt you at the altar. And for your own brother, no less!" Max deliberately stripped his voice of emotion, knowing only too well the chilling effect that always had on his subordinates. "My sister-in-law is a lady of extraordinary courage and exceptional moral fiber. If I should hear you've been speaking ill of her again, even in so much as a whisper, I will hunt you down and finish what we started here today." The lad subsided into a sulky silence. Max handed him off to his white-faced second and the hovering surgeon, relieved to be rid of him. Resting his hands on his hips, Max watched them load the young fool into his rented carriage. If Max hadn't been so deep in his cups when he had overheard his unfortunate dueling opponent loudly tell his friends that legendary adventurer Ashton Burke had married a sultan's whore, Max would never have challenged the silly lad to a duel. What the boy really needed was a sound thrashing before being sent to bed without supper. Despite his regrets, Max had to admit that relinquishing his heroic mantle was almost liberating. When you were a villain, no one looked at you askance if you frequented seedy gambling hells, drank too much brandy, or neglected to tie your cravat in a flawless bow. No one whispered behind their hands if your untrimmed hair curled over the edge of your collar or it had been three days since your last shave. Max gave the sooty stubble shadowing his jaw a rueful stroke, remembering a time when he would have discharged his valet without a letter of recommendation for letting him appear in public in such a disreputable state. Since resigning his coveted chair on the Court of Directors of the East India Company in the aftermath of the scandal that had sent the society gossips into a feeding frenzy for months, he was no longer forced to make painfully polite conversation with those who sought his favor. Nor did he have to suffer fools graciously, if not gladly. Instead, everyone scurried out of his path to avoid the caustic lash of his tongue and the contempt smoldering in his smoky gray eyes. They had no way of knowing his contempt wasn't for them but for the man he had become--the man he had always secretly been behind the mask of respectability he wore in public. He would rather have people fear him than pity him. His ferocious demeanor also discouraged the well-meaning women who found it unthinkable that a man who had been one of the most eligible catches in England for over a decade should have been so unceremoniously thrown over by his chosen bride. They were only too eager to cast him in the role of wounded hero, a man who might welcome their clucks of sympathy and fawning attempts to comfort him, both on the ballroom floor and between the sheets of their beds. Shaking his head in disgust, Max turned on his heel and went striding toward his own carriage. He needed to get out of London before he cast an even greater stain over his family's good name and his own title by killing someone. Most likely himself. The lieutenant returned the pistol to its mahogany case before trotting after Max. "M-m-my lord?" he asked, his stammer betraying his nervousness. "W-where are you going?" "Probably hell," Max snapped without breaking his stride. "All that remains to be seen is how long it will take me to get there." Excerpted from The Temptation of Your Touch by Teresa Medeiros All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.