I’m excited to be here today at Coffee Time Romance, sharing an excerpt of my April 5 release Too Sinful To Deny!

TOO SINFUL TO DENY
TOO TEMPTING TO OBJECT

One look at the towering ocean-side manor that is to be her new home, and exiled socialite Susan Stanton knows: This is a place haunted by secrets and riddled with menace.

For Susan, there is no escaping it. At best she can stay clear of the most dangerous element of all–dark-haired smuggler Evan Bothwick, a man whose shaded countenance cannot hide his wicked intent.

But Susan has a secret of her own–a special gift that renders her privy to the darkest mysteries lurking within the walls of the manor and in the labyrinthine cellars beneath. And the only man who can help her make sense of it all is Evan, the very scoundrel and rogue she would do anything to be able to resist…

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Susan didn’t notice a narrow passageway intersecting the stark hall until the scarecrow-thin butler disappeared within. She stood at the crossroads, hesitant to follow but even more nervous not to. After the briefest of pauses, she hurried to regain the scarecrow’s side before losing him forever in the labyrinthine walls.

If he noticed her moment of indecision, he gave no sign. He made several quick turns, passing tall closed door after tall closed door, before finally making an abrupt stop at the dead end of an ill-lit corridor.

This door was open. Somewhat.

A candle flickered inside, but only succeeded in filling the room’s interior with teeming shadows.

“Sir,” the butler rasped into the opening. “It’s Miss Stanton. Your guest.”

“Guest?” came a warm, smartly-accented voice from somewhere within. The master of the house? No. “You were expecting guests at this hour, Ollie?”

“All guests arrive at this hour,” a deep voice countered. “It’s midnight.”

Before Susan had a chance to parse that inexplicable response, the door swung fully open and a fairytale giant filled the entirety of the frame.

Her shoulders reached his hips. His shoulders reached the sides of the doorframe and very nearly the top as well. His broad back hunched to allow his dark head to pass beneath the edge. Small black eyes glittered in an overlarge square face, his mouth hidden behind a beard the color of fresh tar. Arms that could crush tree trunks flexed at his sides. He did not offer his hand.

“Miss Stanton.”

Although her name was more a statement than a question, Susan’s well-trained spine dipped in an automatic curtsey as her mouth managed to stammer a simple, “Yes.”

He did not bow in kind. Nor was it remotely possible he was a child of Lady Beaune. He was easily five-and-thirty. Had Papa’s fourth cousin thrice removed remarried in the unknown years since Mother had last spoken to this distant limb of the Stanton family tree? Did Mother comprehend where exactly she’d condemned her daughter? Or care?

“Move out of the way, oaf,” came the cultured voice from before. “I must see this creature that travels alone and in dark of night to visit the likes of you.”

Rather than move aside, the giant stepped forward, crowding Susan backward. Her shoulders scraped the wall opposite. Her hands clenched at her sides.

A new figure filled the doorframe. Tall, but not impossibly so. Well-muscled, but not frighteningly so. As smartly tailored as any London dandy, but with an air of barely-contained danger more suitable to the meanest streets where even footpads feared to tread. Alarmingly attractive despite the too-long chestnut hair and day’s growth of dark stubble shadowing the line of his jaw.

“Mmm, I see.” An amused grin toyed with his lips. “My pleasure.”

He performed as perfect a bow as any Susan had ever encountered in a Town ballroom. Before her trembling legs could force an answering curtsey, the giant moved back into place, blocking the. . . gentleman?. . . from her view.

The giant’s thick arms crossed over his barrel chest. “Carriage?”

“Gone,” rasped the butler.

Susan jumped. She’d forgotten his silent presence.

“Driver?”

The servant’s terrifying smile returned. “Taken care of.”

Satisfaction glinted in the giant’s eyes. Susan was positive panic was the only thing glinting in hers. Would she be “taken care of” next?

“Take her to the bone chamber.”

###

Poor Susan! Life outside of London is definitely not going as planned. Muahahahaaa…

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