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July 28: Lisa Haselton's Reviews and Interviews
August 4: Book 'Em North Carolina
August 11: Bunny's Review
August 18: Musings and Ramblings
August 25: Dena Garson - Real... Hot... Romance
September 1: It's Raining Books
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September 15: My Devotional Thoughts
September 22: Deal Sharing Aunt
September 29: Kinky Vanilla Romance
October 6: Long and Short Reviews
October 13: Straight from the Library

The Wait is Over: Excerpt from SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE by Adrienne deWolfe

“The Wait is Over”

Excerpt from

SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE

By Adrienne deWolfe

"I am. I am ready."

Rafe tried to withdraw, but she only gripped his hand more insistently against the ridge of her corset. Her eyes begged him, and God knew, he ached to oblige. There was nothing he'd like better than to act out the fantasies he'd been sweating through every night since she'd given him that sassy, all-knowing smile at the Mining Exchange.

But he'd be worse than Aaron Townsend if he laid her down to vent a selfish desire.

He drew a sobering breath. "Max and Cellie will be looking for us."

"I don't care." Her chin quivered, and she pressed closer, so close that the soft, fleshy curve of her breast filled his palm. "Let them."

He licked his dry lips. "You don't mean that."

"I do! I don't care what anyone else thinks anymore, or how it's supposed to be. This may be the one chance I ever have to be with you, once the truth comes to light. Please, Rafe."

"Silver," he half pleaded, half cursed, "you'd regret this. You'd regret us."

"Why?" Her face crumpled. "D-don't you want me anymore?"

Oh God. He squeezed his eyes closed, struggling to quench the unholy fire that smoked through his veins. "Of course I want you. It's just that you need a decent man. An upstanding man. Someone who isn't wanted in three states. Someone with a future."

"I need you, Rafe. Don't you see? You're the only one who can make it right for me because... because I love you."

His throat tightened over the lump that had wedged there.

She loved him, God help her. Him. He could see it shining in her eyes like the heaven he'd thought he'd be forever denied.

Reason failed him then. In that moment, confronted by a truth so hallowed that even his soul had to believe, he couldn't force himself to turn away. He couldn't deprive himself of the one blessing that, he realized now, he'd been searching for his whole life. Silver's love was his salvation, and salvation was within his reach. Call him callous; call him selfish, but he grabbed for the prize with both hands.

"Then marry me, Silver," he said fervently, cupping her face in his hands. "Marry me and be my wife and Aaron Townsend be damned."

Silver gasped as Rafe's lips swooped, possessing hers. A tender savagery had suffused him; she swayed, exhilarated and yet awed, clutching the pleats of his shirt as his mouth plundered hers. He held her enthralled, a willing captive in the wildfire of his passion. His kisses devoured her; her breath became his.

Lightning danced beyond the fringe of her lashes. She was sizzling from head to toe when he clasped her buttocks, imprisoning her hips against the heat of his arousal. And just as her world was spinning deliciously, precariously out of control, he lowered her to the chaise.

The weight of him was a scandalous pleasure. She squirmed with delight, flattening her breasts against his rock-ribbed torso. She wanted more of him, all of him, and fumbled with his waistcoat and bow tie. She might have succeeded at tearing the nuisances free if she hadn't been so wickedly distracted. A sudden gust of mountain air warned her that her corset and chemise had been expertly rifled.

"How beautiful you are," he murmured, his hands gliding lower. Stays and garters parted like smoke before his touch; she shivered, feeling the silk of her stockings cascade to her ankles. In a heartbeat, maybe two, she'd be naked beneath him. It was a heady realization.

He was shedding his own clothes now: black worsted, linen, satin, and leather. The earthy manscents of him—sandalwood and pine—grew sharper, more seductive, as his skin was bared to her senses. He was rugged and vital, magnetic and sensual, and more heart-trippingly masculine than anything she had ever dared to admire.

A breathless sense of awe washed over her.

"I want this night to be special for you, Silver," he whispered, his eyes aglow with a secret promise as he pulled the ribbon from her hair. It tumbled around her shoulders in a lavender-scented mess, but he smoothed it, weaving his fingers through the curls. "I want to make your love dreams come true. Will you let me?"

Don't miss Scoundrel for Hire, 

Book 1, in the Velvet Lies Series

By Adrienne deWolfe

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The Audition: Excerpt from SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE by Adrienne deWolfe

“The Audition”

Chapter Excerpt from

SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE

By Adrienne deWolfe

(Set up:  Welcome back, folks!  In this scene, our heroine, Silver, has just entered into a Devil’s bargain with the Shakespearean actor-turned-confidence man, Raphael Jones. However, Silver is still having misgivings about their arrangement. She demands to know if Rafe really is capable of wooing her father’s fiancée and proving that the woman is a gold-digger.)

Rafe halted less than an arm's length away. Silver could actually feel his heat, smell his mountain-fresh cologne. A tendril of uneasiness coiled in her belly.

"Perhaps you would prefer an audition," he drawled.

"An a-auditiion?"

His hand reached out to catch a strand of her hair. When he tucked it behind her ear, she felt the whisper of his knuckles against her cheek.

"How might a lover satisfy you, Miss Nichols?" he murmured, his thumb skimming her jawline until it dipped lower, pressing against the hammering vein in her throat. 

"With words of poetry? A bouquet of roses?" His lips inched nearer. "A kiss?"

That was it. The instinct for self-preservation took over.

"I must ask you not to do that," she said, snatching his fingers from her cheek.

"But your guarantee. I couldn’t have you go on thinking me unequal to the role in which you’ve cast me."

"That you thoroughly enjoy seduction, I have no doubt," she retorted, wishing the butterflies in her stomach would alight. "Save your bag of tricks for Celestia."

He chuckled, a rich rumble of sound that vibrated into her fingertips and danced along every nerve. "As you wish. But if you should ever change your mind..." He raised the back of her hand, and the moist touch of his lips sent goose bumps scuttling to her toes. "...I am, of course, at your command."

She rather doubted that, but when he released her, she was too relieved to debate him. She ran her damp palms down her skirts in an effort to rally her composure.

"Since we are agreed, Mr. Jones, you'll find your first payment and your instructions waiting for you at Aspen's Windsor Hotel. I'll send for you there."

"So thrive my soul."

She suspected he was quoting Romeo again. Apparently the rogue had a one-track mind. For the future, when they'd have to rendezvous secretly to discuss their conspiracy, she made a mental note never again to meet him on a balcony—or worse, in the moonlight.

"And now, if it's not too much to ask, I'd like for you to leave my hotel room."

"Ah, me. The lady grows weary of my company." The corner of his mouth quirked. 

"Very well." Sweeping low, he performed a flawless bow. "Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast..." He straightened, his hand pressed forlornly to his heart. "Ah, would I were sleep, and peace so sweet to rest."

She blushed in spite of her strong counsel against it.

With a naughty wink, he reached for the tree limb, swung from her balcony, and plunged into the huddled shadows of the night.
Silver gulped a ragged breath.

She listened for his landing, her ears straining above the thunder of her pulse. When she heard nothing, not even his retreating footsteps, she crept closer to the railing and peered over the edge. A glint of gold caught her eye. That evidence of his slipping halo had been her first glimpse of Raphael Jones; now it was her last. The devil with the angel’s name had vanished so completely into the darkness, that she wondered if he hadn't hung a dark curtain below to make his exit more dramatic.

She gazed down at her tingling fingertips, still warm and slightly tremulous from his touch. A dreamy smile curved her lips.

Celestia Cooper didn't stand a chance against that man.

Then a more disturbing notion struck.

Did any woman?

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Rafe Arrives at Ball: Excerpt from SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE by Adrienne deWolfe

Scoundrel for Hire:

"Rafe Arrives at the Ball"

Book Excerpt Read by Author,

Adrienne deWolfe

(Book 1, Velvet Lies series)
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http://ebookdiscovery.com.p8.hostingprod.com/AdrienneDeWolfe.html

Devil's Bargain: Excerpt from SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE by Adrienne deWolfe

"Devil’s Bargain”

Excerpt from

SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE

By Adrienne deWolfe

(Set-up:  Welcome back!  Raphael Jones is a Kentucky-born scoundrel, who has never played by the rules. When Colorado mining heiress, Silver Nichols, hires him to stop her precious daddy from marrying a gold-digger, Rafe sets out to seduce Silver and win her fortune.  In this excerpt, Silver and Rafe are hammering out the details of their conspiracy.)

Colorado, 1881

"You, of course, will pose as the Earl of Chumley when you reach Aspen,” Silver told Rafe briskly. “I am certain a handsome young man such as yourself, perpetuating the illusion of an English title and more wealth than he knows how to spend, will be just the sort of temptation to make Celestia show my father her true colors.

“I am prepared to draft a bank statement,” Silver continued crisply, “that will allow you to obtain suitable clothing and transportation, as well as two weeks of food and lodging. I should think fourteen days would be sufficient time for a man of your, uh, accomplishments to complete this mission."

Rafe smiled to himself. So Silver wanted to get rid of him in a hurry, did she?

"I'm humbled by your confidence in me, Miss Nichols," he said, sliding oh-so-casually closer. "But seduction does involve a certain degree of delicacy. And, of course, time."

She stiffened.

"If the lady in question is even the least bit unwilling, a great deal of expense must be incurred to woo her," he continued silkily. "She must have love trinkets and flowers, hats, jewels and gloves, lavish meals and entertainments, and, of course, one cannot overlook the importance of outfitting the assignation bower itself."
Silver cleared her throat. "Yes, well, I'm sure in Celestia's case, a bower won't be—"

"One should never underestimate the power of ambiance in achieving the desired effect," Rafe chided, letting his left hand drop between them. "Your father is successful, well-respected, and pleasantly aged. That makes him a worthy opponent, wouldn't you agree?"

Silver glanced warily at his fingers, hovering so innocently beside her thigh. "Yes, but—"

"And he'll be a persistent rival too, since his heart is engaged. We can't be at all certain he will quit the war in a mere two weeks' time. No, I should think he will lay siege to love's door, employing every weapon at his disposal. This battle of suitors could rage a good six months or more."

"Six months!"

"Or more," he drawled, relishing the utter outrage on her face. Moments like these made all the tedious plotting and practicing for cons worthwhile.

"Six months is out of the question,” she snapped. “In one month, my father will be marrying that witch and accompanying her on a wedding tour to Niagara Falls!"

Silver escaped to the center of the balcony.

Rafe hid his disappointment. Only one month to milk the golden cow, eh? He'd been hoping to stretch it to nine. He supposed he'd have to find some other scam to feed himself through the winter. Either that, or marry Silver.

He smiled at the notion. Now there was an amusing proposition: a wife with even fewer scruples than he had.

"I'm afraid your situation is more dire than I thought," he told her gravely. "We shall have to march into the fray with all our guns blazing, so to speak. In order to turn Celestia's head, I shall also need an allowance. Given our shortage of time, I'm afraid the amount will have to be significant. But your devotion to your father has touched me deeply. In consideration of your plight, I shall see how far I can stretch five hundred dollars per week."

"Per week?"

"You, yourself, have cast me in the role of aristocrat. One cannot play the part on a shovel stiff's wage."

Her hands flew to her hips. "Now see here, Jones, I'll allow you two hundred dollars, and you'll be happy to have it."

"Four hundred."

Their eyes locked.

"Two-fifty," she countered.

"Three-fifty plus a horse and buggy."

She looked like she'd relish the act of barbecuing him.

"Three hundred and the promise not to sic the sheriff on your sorry hide."

"Five hundred and the promise not to mail your father a most eye-opening letter." 

He smiled pleasantly.

"Y-you wouldn't dare!"

"Not for five hundred dollars," he lied soothingly. "After all, you did spare me from spending the night in jail."

"Your gratitude overwhelms me, Mr. Jones."

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