Notorious Eliza
A Novella
Cover art copyright 2011 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
|
Patrick needs a respectable new wife to be a mother for his daughter.
Notorious Eliza paints nudes to support her young son. They should resist the attraction. (They don’t.) They dare not fall in love. (They do.) They must not marry… for one day Eliza’s most scandalous secret will surface and destroy them all... THIS IS A SHORT NOVELLA. It is loosely connected to another novella, To Rescue or Ravish?. Buy Now! Amazon Harlequin Barnes and Noble Books-a-Million
|
Here's an excerpt from Notorious Eliza
Cover art copyright 2010 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
London, March 1800
Eliza Dauntry frowned at the portrait on the easel, then at the naked woman sprawled on the sofa. Something was amiss with the pink tints underlying the skin on her breasts and belly. Eliza hated not getting her portraits exactly right. On the other hand, she had come to loathe painting nudes. She didn’t think a not-quite-perfect pink would matter to the rake who had commissioned the portrait of his mistress. Most likely, he wouldn’t notice the difference.
She flicked a glance at the rake, who had insisted on watching while Eliza worked. He wasn’t looking at the portrait, nor at his voluptuous mistress.
Instead his gaze was fixed on Eliza in an all too familiar way.
The rake dismissed his mistress with a flick of the hand. “That’s enough for now, love. Mrs. Dauntry and I wish to talk.”
Oh, no. Not another one. Eliza Dauntry braced herself to deal with the rake. The trollop, justly annoyed, snatched her wrapper from the sofa but flounced away without covering her nakedness. The rake couldn’t help watching the bounce of his mistress’s breasts and the jiggle of her thighs, but Eliza knew his desire was now directed at herself.
Damn! Neither frumpy clothing, nor hair going any which way, nor smudges of paint on her nose made any difference at all. According to these indiscriminate lechers, a woman who painted one’s mistress in the nude—lavishly, wantonly nude—must be partial to being naked herself.
In a sense, they were correct, but Eliza had been a widow for five years, and although she missed sprawling naked with David, there had never been anyone else and likely never would be.
Definitely not this one.
Perhaps she should accept the commission proposed by Lord Lansdowne in a letter received that morning. A month spent at his country estate would put the cap on her ruined reputation, but he had offered her a small fortune, enough to send James, her son, to a good school for years. More important, Lansdowne was old as Methuselah. Too ancient to bed her, and he didn’t hold orgies anymore.
Meanwhile, the rake approached, a predatory gleam in his eye.
Eliza checked that her palate knife was handy, took a deep breath and prepared to defend her honor. Again.
Buy Now!
Amazon
Harlequin
Barnes and Noble
Books-a-Million
Eliza Dauntry frowned at the portrait on the easel, then at the naked woman sprawled on the sofa. Something was amiss with the pink tints underlying the skin on her breasts and belly. Eliza hated not getting her portraits exactly right. On the other hand, she had come to loathe painting nudes. She didn’t think a not-quite-perfect pink would matter to the rake who had commissioned the portrait of his mistress. Most likely, he wouldn’t notice the difference.
She flicked a glance at the rake, who had insisted on watching while Eliza worked. He wasn’t looking at the portrait, nor at his voluptuous mistress.
Instead his gaze was fixed on Eliza in an all too familiar way.
The rake dismissed his mistress with a flick of the hand. “That’s enough for now, love. Mrs. Dauntry and I wish to talk.”
Oh, no. Not another one. Eliza Dauntry braced herself to deal with the rake. The trollop, justly annoyed, snatched her wrapper from the sofa but flounced away without covering her nakedness. The rake couldn’t help watching the bounce of his mistress’s breasts and the jiggle of her thighs, but Eliza knew his desire was now directed at herself.
Damn! Neither frumpy clothing, nor hair going any which way, nor smudges of paint on her nose made any difference at all. According to these indiscriminate lechers, a woman who painted one’s mistress in the nude—lavishly, wantonly nude—must be partial to being naked herself.
In a sense, they were correct, but Eliza had been a widow for five years, and although she missed sprawling naked with David, there had never been anyone else and likely never would be.
Definitely not this one.
Perhaps she should accept the commission proposed by Lord Lansdowne in a letter received that morning. A month spent at his country estate would put the cap on her ruined reputation, but he had offered her a small fortune, enough to send James, her son, to a good school for years. More important, Lansdowne was old as Methuselah. Too ancient to bed her, and he didn’t hold orgies anymore.
Meanwhile, the rake approached, a predatory gleam in his eye.
Eliza checked that her palate knife was handy, took a deep breath and prepared to defend her honor. Again.
Buy Now!
Amazon
Harlequin
Barnes and Noble
Books-a-Million
Text copyright 2010-2012 by Barbara Monajem. Cover art Copyright 2010-2012 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited. Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books, S.A. Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved.
