I'm hosting a promo, today, on Sarah MacLean's latest historical romance release, Brazen and the Beast (The Bareknuckle Bastards #2), as a part of the ongoing VBT. Also find an excerpt for your enjoyment. To enter the paperback giveaway (US ONLY), please check out the details below!
Brazen and the Beast
Sarah MacLean
(The Bareknuckle Bastards #2)
Published: July 30, 2019 by Avon Romance
The Lady’s Plan
When Lady Henrietta Sedley declares her twenty-ninth year her own, she has plans to inherit her father’s business, to make her own fortune, and to live her own life. But first, she intends to experience a taste of the pleasure she’ll forgo as a confirmed spinster. Everything is going perfectly…until she discovers the most beautiful man she’s ever seen tied up in her carriage and threatening to ruin the Year of Hattie before it’s even begun.
The Bastard’s Proposal
When he wakes in a carriage at Hattie’s feet, Whit, a king of Covent Garden known to all the world as Beast, can’t help but wonder about the strange woman who frees him—especially when he discovers she’s headed for a night of pleasure . . . on his turf. He is more than happy to offer Hattie all she desires…for a price.
An Unexpected Passion
Soon, Hattie and Whit find themselves rivals in business and pleasure. She won’t give up her plans; he won’t give up his power . . . and neither of them sees that if they’re not careful, they’ll have no choice but to give up everything . . . including their hearts.
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In twenty-eight years and three
hundred sixty-four days, Lady Henrietta Sedley liked to think that she’d
learned a few things.
She’d learned, for example, that if
a lady could not get away with wearing trousers (an unfortunate reality for the
daughter of an earl, even one who had begun life without title or fortune),
then she should absolutely ensure that her skirts included pockets. A woman
never knew when she might require a bit of rope, or a knife to cut it, after
all.
She’d also learned that any decent
escape from her Mayfair home required the cover of darkness and a carriage
driven by an ally. Coachmen tended to talk a fine game when it came to keeping
secrets, but were ultimately beholden to those who paid their salaries. An
important addendum to that particular lesson was this: The best of allies was
often the best of friends.
And perhaps first on the list of
things she had learned in her lifetime was how to tie a Bosun knot. She’d been
able to do that for as long as she could remember.
With such an obscure and uncommon
collection of knowledge, one might imagine that Henrietta Sedley would have
known precisely what to do in the likelihood she discovered a human male bound
and unconscious in her carriage.
One would be incorrect.
In point of fact, Henrietta Sedley
would never have described such a scenario as a likelihood. After all, she
might have been more comfortable on London’s docks than in its ballrooms, but
Hattie’s impressive collection of life experience lacked anything close to a
criminal element.
And yet, here she was, pockets full,
dearest friend at her side, standing in the pitch dark on the night before her
twenty-ninth birthday, about to steal away from Mayfair for a night of
best-laid plans, and…
Lady Eleanora Madewell whistled, low
and unladylike at Hattie’s ear. Daughter of a duke and the Irish actress he
loved so much he’d made her a duchess, Nora had the kind of brashness that was
allowed in those with impervious titles and scads of money. “There’s a bloke in
the gig, Hattie.”
Hattie did not look away from the
bloke in question. “Yes, I see that.”
“There wasn’t a bloke in the gig
when we hitched the horses.”
“No, there wasn’t.” They’d left the
hitched—and most definitely empty—carriage in the dark rear drive of Sedley
House not three-quarters of an hour earlier, before hiking upstairs to exchange
carriage-hitching dresses for attire more appropriate for their evening plans.
At some point between corset and
kohl, someone had left her an extraordinarily unwelcome package.
“Seems we would’ve noticed a bloke
in the gig,”
“I should think we would have,” came
Hattie’s distracted reply. “This is really just awful timing.”
Nora cut her a look. “Is there a good time for a man to be bound in one’s
carriage?”
Hattie imagined there wasn’t, but,
“He could have selected a different evening. What a terrible birthday gift.”
She squinted into the dark interior of the carriage. “Do you think he’s dead?”
Please,
don’t let him be dead.
Silence. Then, a thoughtful, “Does
one store dead men in carriages?” Nora reached forward, her coachman’s coat
pulling tight over her shoulders, and poked the dead man in question. He did
not move. “He’s not moving,” she added. “Could be dead.”
Hattie sighed, removing a glove and
leaning into the carriage to place two fingers to the man’s neck. “I’m sure
he’s not dead.”
“What are you doing?” Nora
whispered, urgently. “If he’s not dead, you’ll wake him!”
“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in
the world,” Hattie pointed out. “Then we could ask him to kindly exit our
conveyance and we could be on our way.”
“Oh, yes. This brute seems like
precisely the kind of man who would immediately do just that and not
immediately take his revenge. He’d no doubt doff his cap and wish us a fine
good evening.”
“He’s not wearing a cap,” Hattie
pointed out, unable to refute any of the rest of the assessment of the
mysterious, possibly dead man. He was very broad, and very solid, and even in
the darkness she could tell that this wasn’t a man with whom one took a turn
about a ballroom.
This was the kind of man who
ransacked a ballroom.
“What do you feel?” Nora pressed.
“No pulse.” Though she wasn’t
precisely certain of the location one would find a pulse. “But he’s—”
Warm.
Dead men were not warm, and this man
was very warm. Like a fire in winter. The kind of warm that made someone
realize how cold she might be.
Ignoring the silly thought, Hattie
moved her fingers down the column of his neck, to the place where it
disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt, where the curve of his shoulder
and the slope of…the rest of him… met in a fascinating indentation.
“Anything now?”
“Quiet.” Hattie held her breath.
Nothing. She shook her head.
“Christ.” It wasn’t a prayer.
Hattie couldn’t have agreed more.
But then…
There.
A small flutter. She pressed a touch more firmly. The flutter became firm.
Slow. Even. “I feel it. She said. “He’s alive.” She repeated herself. “He’s
alive.” She exhaled, long and relieved. “He’s not dead.”
Giveaway:
To celebrate the release of BRAZEN AND THE BEAST by Sarah MacLean, we’re giving away a paperback copy of Wicked and the Wallflower!
GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS: Open to US shipping addresses only. One winner will receive a paperback copy of Wicked and the Wallflower by Sarah MacLean. This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Avon Romance. Giveaway ends on 8/12/2019 @ 11:59pm EST. Avon Romance will send the winning copy out to the winner directly. CLICK HERE TO ENTER!
About the Author:
New York Times, Washington Post & USA Today bestseller SARAH MACLEAN is the author of historical romance novels that have been translated into more than twenty languages, and winner of back-to-back RITA Awards for best historical romance from the Romance Writers of America.
Sarah is a leading advocate for the romance genre, speaking widely on its place at the nexus of gender and cultural studies. She is the author of a monthly column celebrating the best of the genre for the Washington Post. Her advocacy for romance and the women who read it earned her a place on Jezebel.com’s “Sheroes” list of 2014 and led Entertainment Weekly to call her “gracefully furious.”
A graduate of Smith College & Harvard University, Sarah now lives in New York City with her husband and daughter.
Author Links:
(Note: I received this promo+giveaway info from Pure Textuality Promotions. ~Punya)
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