Thursday, September 4, 2014

The Earl's Mistress (MacLachlan Family and Friends #10) by Liz Carlyle - Virtual Book Tour and Giveaway

The Earl’s Mistress
MacLachlan Family and Friends # 10
By: Liz Carlyle
Releasing August 26th, 2014
Avon Romance 

Women rarely refuse the wicked Earl of Hepplewood, whose sensual skills are the stuff of legend. But when his new governess answers his proposition with a slap to his face, then stalks out with references in hand, Hepplewood finds more than his face is left burning . . .

Isabella Aldridge has brains, bravado, and beauty-but the latter is no use to a servant. With orphaned sisters to feed, eviction nearing, and Hepplewood’s words ringing in her ears, Isabella realizes she must barter her most marketable asset . . .

But when fate unknowingly sends Isabella back into Hepplewood’s arms, the earl must make an impossible choice-draw Isabella down into his sensual darkness, or behave with honor for the first time in his life.
Buy Links

“That is the very problem, Isabella,” he said.  “I do not know what I’m speaking of—not yet—which is why I should prefer not to speak of it at all.”
“Oh.”  She paused as if to consider it.  “Is that why you’ve stopped writing to me?”
  That made him laugh.  “Dare I hope, my dear, that you are disappointed?”  He leaned dangerously near then; so near he could draw in the clean scent of her hair, and a warm hint of perspiration. “Do you wish me to write?  Given how we parted, I was not sure.  I would love nothing better than to resume my letters at once.”
“No, no, I merely meant—”
He cut her off by setting his lips to her ear.  “And, if you wish, Isabella,” he whispered, “I shall write with far more specificity—and far less restraint—than I have thus far shown.  I will tell you how desperately I need to hear your voice, and precisely what dark deeds I long to subject you to.  How I burn to touch you and feel you writhing and crying out beneath me.  You are, I collect, opening all your own mail?”
Isabella seemed unable to get her breath.   “Well—usually.”
“Ah, usually.”  He drew away then with a rueful expression.  “Alas, you see my conundrum, my dear.  The things I would prefer to write to you are things apt to give anyone else great pause—if not heart failure.”
She looked at him very steadily.  “I still don’t know what to make of you,” she said.  “After all this time . . . I still do not know.”
Impulsively, he took her hand and carried it all the way to his lips, pressing them fervently to her glove.  “You are in the happy position, my dear, of having time to decide,” he said, looking at her very directly.  “And I am learning to be a patient man.”

A lifelong anglophile, Liz Carlyle cut her teeth reading gothic novels under the bedcovers by flashlight. She is the author of sixteen historical romances, including several New York Times bestsellers. Liz travels incessantly, ever in search of the perfect setting for her next book. Along with her genuine romance-hero husband and four very fine felines, she makes her home in North Carolina. You can contact her via her website at
Author Links

1 comment: