The Book
Book 3 of the Rogue Hearts series
Genre: historical romance
About A Perfect Secret:
Desperate to protect her father from trial and death, Genevieve breaks off her engagement with Christian Amesbury and marries a blackmailer. After a year of marriage, she flees her husband's violent domination only to have fate bring her back to Christian. Just when she thinks she's started a new life of safety and solitude, her husband tracks her down, stalks her, and threatens everyone she loves.Source: Info in the About A Perfect Secret was from the press kit from the publicity team.
Still brokenhearted over Genevieve's betrayal a year ago, Christian can't believe she's come back into his life--and worse, that she's done it on the anniversary of his brother's death, a death that haunts him. Though tempted to throw her back into the river where he found her, he can't leave her at the mercy of the terrifying man she married.
When her husband torments Genevieve and puts his family in danger, Christian will do anything to protect those he loves...anything except give Genevieve another chance to break his heart.
Buy Link(s):
Excerpt:
CHAPTER 1
Tarrington Castle, England, autumn 1801
Six-year-old Christian Amesbury stood in the churchyard, trying not to crush the flowers he’d brought to put in front of the family crypt where they’d laid his brother to rest, the brother he loved, the brother he killed. Alone in every way, he stood, shaking, as his last taunting words to Jason echoed in his head. Christian had wanted to prove he was brave and strong. Instead, his brother, best friend, and advocate, was dead.
His throat tightened and tears blurred his vision. “I’m sorry, Jason,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I miss you.” He knelt and placed his offering of wildflowers in front of the crypt.
A drop of rain landed on his cheek and mingled with his tears. He stood, unmoving, embracing the desolation. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d never be happy again.
That horrific day three months ago had started out innocently enough, with Christian running with all his might after his older brothers, desperate to prove he wasn’t a baby who should have stayed in the house with his sisters. As usual, he couldn’t keep up as they raced to the tree. But one day he’d outrun them all.
Christian’s brothers disappeared around a corner in the gardens, the shaking of shrubbery all that bespoke their passing. Drawing from some inner well of speed he didn’t know he possessed, Christian darted around the corner and skidded on loose gravel. His feet went out from underneath him and he crashed to the ground. Pain burst from his thigh and elbow. Now, he would be last. Again. But he wouldn’t quit.
Blinking back hot tears of humiliation, Christian scrambled to his feet and charged down the stone path toward Zeus’s Garden. He flew headlong through the arch of roses, past statues, dodging fountains and flowers and shaped shrubbery.
His brothers’ voices led Christian to their tree. Perfect for climbing with low, strong limbs spaced as evenly as a ladder, he’d imagined it as a pirate ship or sometimes a navy ship, a castle where a dragon lived, and a deep, dark dungeon filled with ogres.
Hanging from a branch, Grant mocked Christian. “Sorry, Chrissy, you’re last. Go back home and sew and draw and play music with the girls.”
Christian stuck his chin out. “I don’t sew.”
“Rules are rules,” Jared said with a taunting smile. “Last one here has to go back and play with the twins. Maybe they’ll put bows in your pretty blond hair.”
“Aw, come on, let him stay.” Jason’s voice broke in. “Look, he fell and scraped up his leg and arm and didn’t even cry.”
“ ‘The perfectly perfect Christian’ is too perfect to cry,” Grant sneered.
Christian clamped his mouth shut as Grant taunted him with that all too familiar, sing-songy phrase that never failed to make his blood boil. He wasn’t perfect, but he did try to be good for Mama’s sake. Which was the only reason he didn’t climb up the tree and punch Grant in the face.
Tarrington Castle, England, autumn 1801
Six-year-old Christian Amesbury stood in the churchyard, trying not to crush the flowers he’d brought to put in front of the family crypt where they’d laid his brother to rest, the brother he loved, the brother he killed. Alone in every way, he stood, shaking, as his last taunting words to Jason echoed in his head. Christian had wanted to prove he was brave and strong. Instead, his brother, best friend, and advocate, was dead.
His throat tightened and tears blurred his vision. “I’m sorry, Jason,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I miss you.” He knelt and placed his offering of wildflowers in front of the crypt.
A drop of rain landed on his cheek and mingled with his tears. He stood, unmoving, embracing the desolation. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d never be happy again.
That horrific day three months ago had started out innocently enough, with Christian running with all his might after his older brothers, desperate to prove he wasn’t a baby who should have stayed in the house with his sisters. As usual, he couldn’t keep up as they raced to the tree. But one day he’d outrun them all.
Christian’s brothers disappeared around a corner in the gardens, the shaking of shrubbery all that bespoke their passing. Drawing from some inner well of speed he didn’t know he possessed, Christian darted around the corner and skidded on loose gravel. His feet went out from underneath him and he crashed to the ground. Pain burst from his thigh and elbow. Now, he would be last. Again. But he wouldn’t quit.
Blinking back hot tears of humiliation, Christian scrambled to his feet and charged down the stone path toward Zeus’s Garden. He flew headlong through the arch of roses, past statues, dodging fountains and flowers and shaped shrubbery.
His brothers’ voices led Christian to their tree. Perfect for climbing with low, strong limbs spaced as evenly as a ladder, he’d imagined it as a pirate ship or sometimes a navy ship, a castle where a dragon lived, and a deep, dark dungeon filled with ogres.
Hanging from a branch, Grant mocked Christian. “Sorry, Chrissy, you’re last. Go back home and sew and draw and play music with the girls.”
Christian stuck his chin out. “I don’t sew.”
“Rules are rules,” Jared said with a taunting smile. “Last one here has to go back and play with the twins. Maybe they’ll put bows in your pretty blond hair.”
“Aw, come on, let him stay.” Jason’s voice broke in. “Look, he fell and scraped up his leg and arm and didn’t even cry.”
“ ‘The perfectly perfect Christian’ is too perfect to cry,” Grant sneered.
Christian clamped his mouth shut as Grant taunted him with that all too familiar, sing-songy phrase that never failed to make his blood boil. He wasn’t perfect, but he did try to be good for Mama’s sake. Which was the only reason he didn’t climb up the tree and punch Grant in the face.
Books In The Rogue Hearts Series:
Meet The Author
My passion for writing began at the tender age of 8 and I’ve been hooked ever since. Of course, I also wanted to be an actress and a ballerina, but one out of three isn’t bad, right?
In between caring for six children, (7 counting my husband), my day job, my free lance editing and copy writing, and my many volunteer positions, I manage to carve out time to indulge in my writing obsession. After all, it IS an obsession. My family is more patient and supportive than I deserve.
Giveaway
- Grand Prize: $20 Amazon gift card and an ebook of A Perfect Secret OR The Stranger She Married (winner's choice)- 5 ebooks of A Perfect Secret
- Open Internationally
- Ends July 20th
Are you a blogger and want to receive information about new tours? Go HERE.
Are you an author or publisher and would like to have us organize a tour event? Go HERE.
I would not want to live in Regency England because of the restrictions that were placed on women. A world without women in pants???
ReplyDeleteI agree with Lori I would not want to live in Regency England because of the limitation that woman have!
ReplyDeleteI would not want to live in Regency England because I like modern conveniences. I might like to visit for a London season just to see what it would be like.
ReplyDeleteThe dancing and dresses seem pretty sweet.
The medical advances, hygiene, and social attitudes - not so much.
I would just for the glamour of it! But I would hate not having the modern conveniences!
ReplyDelete