“You
should not have kissed me,” she replied breathlessly.
“I
do a lot of things I shouldn’t. It does not mean I won’t do them
again.”
Gently bred
Emma Chadwick always assumed she’d live and die the daughter of a
gentleman. But when her father’s death reveals a world of
staggering debt and dangerous moneylenders, she must risk her good
name and put her talent for mathematics to use, taking a position as
bookkeeper at London’s most notorious gambling hell. Surrounded by
vice and corruption on all sides, it is imperative no one discovers
Emma’s shameful secret or her reputation—and her life—will be
ruined.
But
Roderick Bentley, the hell’s sinfully wealthy owner, awakens a
hunger Emma cannot deny. Drawn deep into an underworld of high stakes
gambling and reckless overindulgence, she soon discovers that in
order to win the love of a ruthless scoundrel, she will have to play
the game...and give in to the pleasure of falling from grace.
Amy
Sandas's love of romance began
one summer when she stumbled across one of her mother's Barbara
Cartland books. Her affinity for writing began with sappy pre-teen
poems and led to a Bachelor's degree with an emphasis on Creative
Writing from the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities. She lives with
her husband and children near Milwaukee.
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Question
Roulette Q&A:
What
draws you to write historical romance?
I
love the sense of escape in getting to visit distant times and places
with people who experience life and love through a different set of
rules, yet still remain relatable at their core.
This excerpt is
from Emma and Roderick’s first meeting, an anonymous encounter
behind the fall of a curtain. In return for promising not to discover
her identity, he asks her to assist with his disheveled neckcloth.
Taking another step
closer in order to comfortably reach up to his throat, she began to
twist and fold the neckcloth into a style she had recreated many
times before. Warmth emanated from the stranger and cool night air
drifted around her. There was a solid strength to his body as he
stood still and accommodating beneath her hands. The sound of his
breath began to match the rhythm of her own and the light-headedness
she had experienced earlier returned in a rush.
Her fingers fumbled
through the familiar movements as what should have been a simple task
became weighted with acute expectancy.
By the time she
smoothed the edges of the cravat beneath his coat, Emma’s breath
was tight and her pulse beat in a frantic rhythm. Craving distance
and a safe return of her faculties, she shifted her weight to step
back, but her retreat was brought to a halt when he lifted his hands
to cup her face.
“One more thing,”
he murmured. Then his mouth covered hers.
She had not yet
lowered her hands, and they flattened against his chest as she tensed
in shock. Her stomach went into a tizzy of uncontrollable flutters,
and what remaining sensible thoughts she may have had were sent
spiraling from her head.
He pressed his
fingertips into the hollow at the base of her skull and propped his
thumbs beneath her chin, holding her in place to accept the exquisite
pressure of his lips. He took a step closer and his feet stirred the
fall of her skirts as his body bumped gently against hers. Then he
tilted his head and his mouth softened in unspoken entreaty, as if he
were asking for something more.
Emma had never been
kissed before, and as his mouth moved over hers, she found herself
utterly unprepared for the sensations it invoked. She never could
have anticipated the delicious heaviness invading her limbs or the
tingling that rushed through her blood. When he pulled on her lips,
as if trying to draw something from her, her body tightened deep
inside with a yearning that came on so swiftly it startled her.
It finally recalled
her to her senses—the inexplicable need that overtook all rational
thought. Emma was not accustomed to such a complete destruction of
mental acuity, and it frightened her.
She tensed the curve
of her lower back. The resistance was small, but it was enough, and
he lifted his head. Emma fought the urge to run her tongue over her
lips. Though he had ended the kiss, he did not step back or release
his hands from her face.
“Are you certain
you wish to remain unknown to each other?” he whispered darkly. His
voice felt like a caress. “We could continue this encounter in a
more comfortable location. Somewhere just as private, lit by
candlelight.”
“You should not
have kissed me,” she replied breathlessly as her thoughts began to
reorganize themselves and a raw panic seeped into her bones.
“I do a lot of
things I shouldn’t. It does not mean I won’t do them again.”
Her alarm
intensified at the thought of him kissing her again. She could not
let that happen, not when his first kiss had been so unsettling. A
second might be devastating.
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