McNaught-E November
For McNaught-E Cyber Monday (11/28) we will announce the winner(s) of 14 promo codes, one promo code for each title. Enter to win today! You can enter on all blogs on the tour listed below, but you can only win once.
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We are excited to share with you that the fourteen Judith McNaught titles listed below are available for the first time in E-Book November 1st! If you previously read any of these amazing titles, revisiting them in E-Book is not “All for Naught,” as each E-Book will contain original, new content (a letter) from Judith McNaught.
To celebrate this abundance of new material from Judith McNaught, we kick off McNaught-E November with an excerpt for Whitney, My Love ($2.99 special price November 1st - December 4th, 2016). Please check back on McNaught-E Mondays (every Monday in November) to enjoy additional excerpts for the other thirteen E-Books.
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About the Book:
Whitney, My Love
A saucy spitfire who has grown into a ravishing young woman, Whitney Stone returns from her triumphant time in Paris society to England. She plans on marrying her childhood sweetheart, only to discover she has been bargained away by her bankrupt father to the arrogant and alluring Clayton Westmoreland, the Duke of Claymore. Outraged, she defies her new lord. But even as his smoldering passion seduces her into a gathering storm of desire, Whitney cannot—will not—relinquish her dream of perfect love. Rich with emotion, brimming with laughter and tears, Whitney, My Love is “the ultimate love story, one you can dream about forever” (RT Book Reviews).
9781501145438
Buy Links:
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Excerpt:
1
As their elegant travelling chaise rocked and swayed along the
rutted country road, Lady Anne Gilbert leaned her cheek against her husband’s
shoulder and heaved a long, impatient sigh. “Another whole hour until we
arrive, and already the suspense is positively gnawing at me. I keep wondering
what Whitney will be like now that she’s grown up.”
She lapsed into silence and gazed
absently out the coach window at the lush, rolling English countryside covered
with wild pink Foxglove and yellow Buttercups, trying to envision the niece she
hadn’t seen in almost eleven years.
“She’ll be pretty, just as her mother
was. And she’ll have her mother’s smile, her gentleness, her sweet
disposition . . .”
Lord Edward Gilbert cast a skeptical
glance at his wife. “Sweet disposition?” he echoed in amused disbelief. “That
isn’t what her father said in his letter.”
As a diplomat attached to the British
Consulate in Paris, Lord Gilbert was a master of hints, evasions,
innuendoes, and intrigues. But in his personal life, he preferred the
refreshing alternative of blunt truth. “Allow me to refresh your memory,” he
said, groping in his pockets and retrieving the letter from Whitney’s father.
He perched his spectacles upon his nose, and ignoring his wife’s grimace, he
began to read:
“ ‘Whitney’s manners are an outrage, her
conduct is reprehensible. She is a willful hoyden who is the despair of
everyone she knows and an embarrassment to me. I implore you to take her back
to Paris with you, in the hope that you may have more success with the stubborn
chit than I have had.’ ”
Edward chuckled. “Show me where it says
she’s ‘sweet-tempered.’ ”
His wife shot him a peevish glance.
“Martin Stone is a cold, unfeeling man who wouldn’t recognize gentleness and
goodness if Whitney were made of nothing else! Only think of the way he shouted
at her and sent her to her room right after my sister’s funeral.”
Edward recognized the mutinous set of his
wife’s chin and put his arm around her shoulders in a gesture of conciliation.
“I’m no fonder of the man than you are, but you must admit that, just having
lost his young wife to an early grave, to have his daughter accuse him, in
front of fifty people, of locking her mama in a box so she couldn’t escape had
to be rather disconcerting.”
“But Whitney was scarcely five years
old!” Anne protested heatedly.
“Agreed. But Martin was grieving.
Besides, as I recall, it was not for that offense she was banished to her room.
It was later, when everyone had gathered in the drawing room—when she stamped
her foot and threatened to report us all to God if we didn’t release her mama
at once.”
Anne smiled. “What spirit she had,
Edward. I thought for a moment her little freckles were going to pop right off
her nose. Admit it—she was marvelous, and you thought so too!”
“Well, yes,” Edward agreed sheepishly. “I
rather thought she was.”
* * *
As the Gilbert chaise bore inexorably
down on the Stone estate, a small knot of young people were waiting on the
south lawn, impatiently looking toward the stable one hundred yards away. A
petite blonde smoothed her pink ruffled skirts and sighed in a way that
displayed a very fetching dimple. “Whatever do you suppose Whitney is planning
to do?” she inquired of the handsome light-haired man beside her.
Glancing down into Elizabeth Ashton’s
wide blue eyes, Paul Sevarin smiled a smile that Whitney would have forfeited
both her feet to see focused on herself. “Try to be patient, Elizabeth,” he
said.
“I’m sure none of us have the faintest
idea what she is up to, Elizabeth,” Margaret Merryton said
tartly. “But you can be perfectly certain it will be something foolish and
outrageous.”
“Margaret, we’re all Whitney’s guests
today,” Paul chided.
“I don’t know why you should defend her,
Paul,” Margaret argued spitefully. “Whitney is creating a horrid scandal
chasing after you, and you know it!”
“Margaret!” Paul snapped. “I said that
was enough.” Drawing a long, irritated breath, Paul Sevarin frowned darkly at
his gleaming boots. Whitney had been making a spectacle of
herself chasing after him, and damned near everyone for fifteen miles was
talking about it.
At first he had been mildly amused to
find himself the object of a fifteen-year-old’s languishing looks and adoring
smiles, but lately Whitney had begun pursuing him with the determination and
tactical brilliance of a female Napoleon Bonaparte.
If he rode off the grounds of his estate,
he could almost depend on meeting her en route to his destination. It was as if
she had some lookout point from which she watched his every move, and Paul no
longer found her childish infatuation with him either harmless or amusing.
Three weeks ago, she had followed him to
a local inn. While he was pleasantly contemplating accepting the innkeeper’s
daughter’s whispered invitation to meet her later in the hayloft, he’d glanced
up and seen a familiar pair of bright green eyes peeping at him through the
window. Slamming his tankard of ale on the table, he’d marched outside, grabbed
Whitney by the elbow, and unceremoniously deposited her on her horse, tersely
reminding her that her father would be searching for her if she wasn’t home by
nightfall.
He’d stalked back inside and ordered
another tankard, but when the innkeeper’s daughter brushed her breasts
suggestively against his arm while refilling his ale and Paul had a sudden
vision of himself lying entangled with her voluptuous naked body, a pair of
green eyes peered in through yet another window. He’d tossed
enough coins on the planked wooden table to mollify the startled girl’s wounded
sensibilities and left—only to encounter Miss Stone again on his way home.
He was beginning to feel like a hunted
man whose every move was under surveillance, and his temper was strained to the
breaking point. And yet, Paul thought irritably, here he was standing in
the April sun, trying for some obscure reason to protect Whitney from the
criticism she richly deserved.
A pretty girl, several years younger than
the others in the group, glanced at Paul. “I think I’ll go and see what’s keeping
Whitney,” said Emily Williams. She hurried across the lawn and along the
whitewashed fence adjoining the stable. Shoving open the big double doors,
Emily looked down the wide gloomy corridor lined with stalls on both sides.
“Where is Miss Whitney?” she asked the stableboy who was currying a sorrel
gelding.
“In there, Miss.” Even in the muted
light, Emily saw his face suffuse with color as he nodded toward a door
adjacent to the tack room.
With a puzzled glance at the flushing
stableboy, Emily tapped lightly on the designated door and stepped inside, then
froze at the sight that greeted her: Whitney Allison Stone’s long legs were
encased in coarse brown britches that clung startlingly to her slender hips and
were held in place at her narrow waist with a length of rope. Above the riding
britches she wore a thin chemise.
“You surely aren’t going out there
dressed like that?” Emily gasped.
Whitney fired an amused glance over her
shoulder at her scandalized friend. “Of course not. I’m going to wear a shirt,
too.”
“B-but why?” Emily persisted desperately.
“Because I don’t think it would be very
proper to appear in my chemise, silly,” Whitney cheerfully replied, snatching
the stableboy’s clean shirt off a peg and plunging her arms into the sleeves.
“P-proper? Proper?” Emily sputtered.
“It’s completely improper for you to be wearing men’s
britches, and you know it!”
“True. But I can’t very well ride that
horse without a saddle and risk having my skirts blow up around my neck, now
can I?” Whitney breezily argued while she twisted her long unruly hair into a
knot and pinned it at her nape.
“Ride without a saddle? You can’t mean
you’re going to ride astride—your father will disown you if
you do that again.”
“I am not going to ride astride.
Although,” Whitney giggled, “I can’t understand why men are allowed to straddle
a horse, while we—who are supposed to be the weaker sex—must hang off the side,
praying for our lives.”
Emily refused to be diverted. “Then
what are you going to do?”
“I never
realized what an inquisitive young lady you are, Miss Williams,” Whitney
teased. “But to answer your question, I am going to ride standing on the
horse’s back. I saw it done at the fair, and I’ve been practicing ever since.
Then, when Paul sees how well I do, he’ll—”
“He’ll
think you have lost your mind, Whitney Stone! He’ll think that you haven’t a
grain of sense or propriety, and that you’re only trying something else to gain
his attention.” Seeing the stubborn set of her friend’s chin, Emily switched
her tactics. “Whitney, please—think of your father. What will he say if he
finds out?”
Whitney
hesitated, feeling the force of her father’s unwaveringly cold stare as if it
were this minute focused upon her. She drew a long breath, then expelled it
slowly as she glanced out the small window at the group waiting on the lawn.
Wearily, she said, “Father will say that, as usual, I have disappointed him,
that I am a disgrace to him and to my mother’s memory, that he is happy she didn’t
live to see what I have become. Then he will spend half an hour telling me what
a perfect lady Elizabeth Ashton is, and that I ought to be like her.”
“Well, if
you really wanted to impress Paul, you could try . . .”
Whitney
clenched her hands in frustration. “I have tried
to be like Elizabeth. I wear those disgusting ruffled dresses that make me feel
like a pastel mountain, I’ve practiced going for hours without saying a word,
and I’ve fluttered my eyelashes until my eyelids go limp.”
Emily bit
her lip to hide her smile at Whitney’s unflattering description of Elizabeth
Ashton’s demure mannerisms, then she sighed. “I’ll go and tell the others that
you’ll be right out.”
Gasps of
outrage and derisive sniggers greeted Whitney’s appearance on the lawn when she
led the horse toward the spectators. “She’ll fall off,” one of the girls
predicted, “if God doesn’t strike her dead first for wearing those britches.”
Ignoring
the impulse to snap out a biting retort, Whitney raised her head in a gesture
of haughty disdain, then stole a look at Paul. His handsome face was taut with
disapproval as his gaze moved from her bare feet, up her trousered legs, to her
face. Inwardly, Whitney faltered at his obvious displeasure, but she swung
resolutely onto the back of the waiting horse.
The gelding
moved into its practiced canter, and Whitney worked herself upward, first
crouching with arms outstretched for balance, then slowly easing herself into a
standing position. Around and around they went and, although Whitney was in
constant terror of falling off and looking like a fool, she managed to appear
competent and graceful.
As she
completed the fourth circle, she let her eyes slant to the faces passing on her
left, registering their looks of shock and derision, while she searched for the
only face that mattered. Paul was partially in the tree’s shadow, and Elizabeth
Ashton was clinging to his arm, but as Whitney passed, she saw the slow,
reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and triumph unfurled like a
banner in her heart. By the time she came around again, Paul was grinning
broadly at her. Whitney’s spirits soared, and suddenly all the weeks of
practice, the sore muscles and bruises, seemed worthwhile.
* * *
At the
window of the second floor drawing room overlooking the south lawn, Martin
Stone stared down at his performing daughter. Behind him, the butler announced
that Lord and Lady Gilbert had arrived. Too enraged at his daughter to speak,
Martin greeted his sister-in-law and her husband with a clenched jaw and curt
nod.
“How—how
nice to see you again after so many years, Martin,” Lady Anne lied graciously.
When he remained icily silent, she said, “Where is Whitney? We’re so anxious to
see her.”
Martin
finally recovered his voice. “See her?” he snapped savagely. “Madam, you have
only to look out this window.”
Bewildered,
Anne did as he said. Below on the lawn there stood a group of young people
watching a slender boy balancing beautifully on a cantering horse. “What a
clever young man,” she said, smiling.
Her simple
remark seemed to drive Martin Stone from frozen rage to frenzied action as he
swung on his heel and marched toward the door. “If you wish to meet your
niece, come with me. Or, I can spare you the humiliation, and bring her here to
you.”
With an
exasperated look at Martin’s back, Anne tucked her hand in her husband’s arm
and together they followed Martin downstairs and outside.
As they
approached the group of young people, Anne heard murmurings and laughter, and
she was vaguely aware that there was something malicious in the tone, but she
was too busy scanning the young ladies’ faces, looking for Whitney, to pay much
heed to the fleeting impression. She mentally discarded two blondes and a
redhead, quizzically studied a petite, blue-eyed brunette, then glanced
helplessly at the young man beside her. “Pardon me, I am Lady Gilbert,
Whitney’s aunt. Could you tell me where she is?”
Paul
Sevarin grinned at her, half in sympathy and half in amusement. “Your niece is
on the horse, Lady Gilbert,” he said.
“On the—”
Lord Gilbert choked.
From her
delicate perch atop the horse, Whitney’s eyes followed her father’s progress as
he bore down on her with long, rapid strides. “Please don’t make a scene,
Father,” she implored when he was within earshot.
“I make
a scene?” he roared furiously. Snatching the halter, he brought the cantering
horse around so sharply that he jerked it from beneath her. Whitney hit the
ground on her feet, lost her balance, and ended up half-sprawling. As she
scampered up, her father caught her arm in a ruthless grip and hauled her over
toward the spectators. “This—this thing,” he said, thrusting
her forward toward her aunt and uncle, “I am mortified to tell you is your
niece.”
Whitney
heard the smattering of giggles as the group quickly disbanded, and she
felt her face grow hot with shame. “How do you do, Aunt Gilbert? Uncle
Gilbert?” With one eye on Paul’s broad-shouldered, retreating form, Whitney
reached mechanically for her nonexistent skirt, realized it was missing, and
executed a comical curtsy without it. She saw the frown on her aunt’s face and
put her chin up defensively. “You may be sure that for the week you are here, I
shall endeavor not to make a freak of myself again, Aunt.”
“For the
week that we are here?” her aunt gasped, but Whitney was preoccupied watching
Paul help Elizabeth into his curricle and didn’t notice the surprise in her
aunt’s voice.
“Good-bye,
Paul,” she called, waving madly. He turned and raised his arm in silent
farewell.
Laughter
drifted back as the curricles bowled down the drive, carrying their occupants
off to a picnic or some other gay and wonderful activity, to which Whitney was
never invited because she was too young.
Following
Whitney toward the house, Anne was a mass of conflicting emotions. She was
embarrassed for Whitney, furious with Martin Stone for humiliating the girl in
front of the other young people, somewhat dazed by the sight of her own niece
cavorting on the back of a horse, wearing men’s britches . . .
and utterly astonished to discover that Whitney, whose mother had been only
passably pretty, showed promise of becoming a genuine beauty.
She was
too thin right now, but even in disgrace Whitney’s shoulders were straight, her
walk naturally graceful and faintly provocative. Anne smiled to herself at the
gently rounded hips displayed to almost immoral advantage by the coarse brown
trousers, the slender waist that would require no
subterfuge to make it appear smaller, eyes that seemed to change from sea-green
to deep jade beneath their fringe of long, sooty lashes. And that hair—piles
and piles of rich mahogany brown! All it needed was a good trimming and
brushing until it shone; Anne’s fingers positively itched to go to work on it.
Mentally she was already styling it in ways to highlight Whitney’s striking
eyes and high cheekbones. Off her face, Anne decided, piled at the crown with
tendrils at the ears, or pulled straight back off the forehead to fall in
gentle waves down her back.
As soon as
they entered the house, Whitney mumbled an excuse and fled to her room where
she flopped dejectedly into a chair and morosely contemplated the humiliating
scene Paul had just witnessed, with her father jerking her ignominiously off
her horse and then shouting at her. No doubt her aunt and uncle were as
horrified and revolted by her behavior as her father had been, and her cheeks
burned with shame just thinking of how they must despise her already.
“Whitney?”
Emily whispered, creeping into the bedroom and cautiously closing the door
behind her. “I came up the back way. Is your father angry?”
“Cross as
crabs,” Whitney confirmed, staring down at her trousered legs. “I suppose I
ruined everything today, didn’t I? Everyone was laughing at me, and Paul heard
them. Now that Elizabeth is seventeen, he’s bound to offer for her before he
ever has a chance to realize that he loves me.”
“You?”
Emily repeated dazedly. “Whitney Stone, Paul avoids you like the plague, and
well you know it! And who could blame him, after the mishaps you’ve treated him
to in the last year?”
“There
haven’t been so many as all that,” Whitney protested, but she squirmed in her
chair.
“No? What
about that trick you played on him on All Soul’s—darting out in front of his
carriage, shrieking like a banshee, and pretending to be a ghost, terrifying
his horses.”
Whitney
flushed. “He wasn’t so very angry. And it isn’t as if
the carriage was destroyed. It only broke a shaft when it overturned.”
“And
Paul’s leg,” Emily pointed out.
“But that
mended perfectly,” Whitney persisted, her mind already leaping from past
debacles to future possibilities. She surged to her feet and began to pace
slowly back and forth. “There has to be a way—but short of abducting him, I—” A
mischievous smile lit up her dust-streaked face as she swung around so quickly
that Emily pressed back into her chair. “Emily, one thing is infinitely clear:
Paul does not yet know that he cares for me. Correct?”
“He
doesn’t care a snap for
you is more like it,” Emily replied warily.
“Therefore,
it would be safe to say that he is unlikely to offer for me without some sort
of added incentive. Correct?”
“You
couldn’t make him offer for you at the point of a gun, and you know it.
Besides, you aren’t old enough to be betrothed, even if—”
“Under
what circumstances,” Whitney interrupted triumphantly, “is a gentleman obliged
to offer for a lady?”
“I can’t
think of any. Except of course, if he has compromised her—absolutely not! Whitney,
whatever you’re planning now, I won’t help.”
Sighing,
Whitney flopped back into her chair, stretching her
legs out in front of her. An irreverent giggle escaped her as she considered
the sheer audacity of her last idea. “If only I could have pulled it
off . . . you know, loosened the wheel on Paul’s carriage so that
it would fall off later, and then asked him to drive me somewhere. Then, by the
time we walked back, or help arrived, it would be late at night, and he would
have to offer for me.” Oblivious to Emily’s scandalized expression, Whitney
continued, “Just think what a wonderful turnabout that would have been on a
tired old theme: Young Lady abducts Gentleman and
ruins hisreputation
so that she is
forced to marry him to set things aright! What a novel that could have made,”
she added, rather impressed with her own ingenuity.
“I’m
leaving,” Emily said. She marched to the door, then she hesitated and turned
back to Whitney. “Your aunt and uncle saw everything. What are you going to say
to them about those trousers and the horse?”
Whitney’s
face clouded. “I’m not going to say anything, it wouldn’t help—but for the rest
of the time they are here, I’m going to be the most demure, refined, delicate
female you’ve ever seen.” She saw Emily’s dubious look and added, “Also I
intend to stay out of sight except at mealtimes. I think I’ll be able to act
like Elizabeth for three hours a day.”
* * *
Whitney
kept her promise. At dinner that night, after her uncle’s hair-raising tale of
their life in Beirut where he was attached to the British Consulate, she
murmured only, “How very informative, Uncle,” even though she was positively
burning to ply him with questions. At the end of her aunt’s description of Paris
and the thrill of its gay social life, Whitney murmured, “How very informative, Aunt.”
The moment the meal was finished, she excused herself and vanished.
After
three days, Whitney’s efforts to be either demure or absent had, in fact, been
so successful that Anne was beginning to wonder whether she had only imagined
the spark of fire she’d glimpsed the day of their arrival, or if the girl had
some aversion to Edward and herself.
On the
fourth day, when Whitney breakfasted before the rest of the household was up,
and then vanished, Anne set out to discover the truth. She searched the house,
but Whitney was not indoors. She was not in the garden, nor had she taken a
horse from the stable, Anne was informed by a groom. Squinting into the
sunlight, Anne looked around her, trying to imagine where a fifteen-year-old
would go to spend all day.
Off on the
crest of a hill overlooking the estate, she spied a patch of bright yellow.
“There you are!” she breathed, opening her parasol and striking out across the
lawn.
Whitney
didn’t see her aunt coming until it was too late to escape. Wishing she had
found a better place to hide, she tried to think of some innocuous subject on
which she could converse without appearing ignorant. Clothes? Personally, she
knew nothing of fashions and cared even less; she looked hopeless no matter
what she wore. After all, what could clothes do to improve the looks of a
female who had cat’s eyes, mud-colored hair, and freckles on the bridge of her
nose? Besides that, she was too tall, too thin, and if the good Lord intended
for her ever to have a bosom, it was very late in making its appearance.
Weak-kneed,
her chest heaving with each labored breath, Anne topped the steep rise and
collapsed unceremoniously onto the blanket beside Whitney. “I-I thought I’d
take . . . a nice stroll,” Anne lied. When she caught her breath,
she noticed the leather-bound book lying face down on the blanket and, seizing
on books as a topic of conversation, she said, “Is that a romantic novel?”
“No,
Aunt,” Whitney demurely uttered, carefully placing her hand over the title of
the book to conceal it from her aunt’s eyes.
“I’m told
most young ladies adore romantic novels,” Anne tried again.
“Yes,
Aunt,” Whitney agreed politely.
“I read
one once but I didn’t like it,” Anne remarked, her mind groping for some other
topic that might draw Whitney into conversation. “I cannot abide a heroine who
is too perfect, nor one who is forever swooning.”
Whitney
was so astonished to discover that she wasn’t the only female in all of England
who didn’t devour the insipid things, that she instantly forgot her resolution
to speak only in monosyllables. “And when the heroines aren’t swooning,” she
added, her entire face lighting up with laughter, “they are lying about with hartshorn
bottles up their nostrils, moping and pining away for some faint-hearted
gentleman who hasn’t the gumption to offer for them, or else has already
offered for some other, unworthy female. I could
never just lie there doing nothing, knowing the man I loved was falling in love
with a horrid person.” Whitney darted a glance at her aunt to see if she was
shocked, but her aunt was regarding her with an unexplainable smile lurking at
the corners of her eyes. “Aunt Anne, could you actually care for a man who
dropped to his knees and said, ‘Oh, Clarabel, your lips are the petals of a red
rose and your eyes are two stars from the heavens’?” With a derisive snort,
Whitney finished, “That is
where I would have leapt for the hartshorn!”
“And so
would I,” Anne said, laughing. “What do you read then, if not
atrocious romantic novels?” She pried the book from beneath Whitney’s flattened
hand and stared at the gold-embossed title. “The Iliad?”
she asked in astonished disbelief. The breeze ruffled the pages, and Anne’s amazed
gaze ricocheted from the print to Whitney’s tense face. “But this is in Greek!
Surely you don’t read Greek?”
Whitney
nodded, her face flushed with mortification. Now her aunt would think her a
bluestocking—another black mark against her. “Also Latin, Italian, French, and
even some German,” she confessed.
“Good
God,” Anne breathed. “How did you ever learn all that?”
“Despite
what Father thinks, Aunt Anne, I am only foolish, not stupid, and I plagued him
to death until he allowed me tutors in languages and history.” Whitney fell
silent, remembering how she’d once believed that if
she
applied herself to her studies, if she could become more like a son, her father
might love her.
“You sound
ashamed of your accomplishments, when you should be proud.”
Whitney
gazed out at her home, nestled in the valley below. “I’m sure you know everyone
thinks it’s a waste of time to educate a female in these things. And anyway, I
haven’t a feminine accomplishment
to my name. I can’t sew a stitch that doesn’t look as if it were done
blindfolded, and when I sing, the dogs down at the stable begin to howl. Mr.
Twittsworthy, our local music instructor, told my father that my playing of the
pianoforte gives him hives. I can’t do a thing that girls ought to
do, and what’s more, I particularly detest doing them.”
Whitney
knew her aunt would now take her in complete dislike, just as everyone else
always did, but it was better this way because at least she could
stop dreading the inevitable. She looked at Lady Anne, her green eyes wide and
vulnerable. “I’m certain Papa has told you all about me. I’m a terrible
disappointment to him. He wants me to be dainty and demure and quiet, like
Elizabeth Ashton. I try to be, but I can’t seem to do it.”
Anne’s
heart melted for the lovely, spirited, bewildered child her sister had borne.
Laying her hand against Whitney’s cheek, she said tenderly, “Your father wants
a daughter who is like a cameo—delicate, pale, and easily shaped. Instead, he
has a daughter who is a diamond, full of sparkle and life, and he doesn’t know
what to do with her. Instead of appreciating the value and rarity of his
jewel—instead of polishing her a bit and then letting her shine—he persists in
trying to shape her into a common cameo.”
Whitney
was more inclined to think of herself as a chunk of coal, but rather than
disillusion her aunt, she kept silent. After her aunt left, Whitney picked up
her book, but soon her mind wandered from the printed page to dreamy thoughts
of Paul.
That night
when she came down to the dining room, the atmosphere in the room was strangely
charged, and no one noticed her sauntering toward the table. “When do you plan
to tell her she’s coming back to France with us, Martin?” her uncle demanded
angrily. “Or is it your intention to wait until the day we leave and then just
toss the child into the coach with us?”
The world
tilted crazily, and for one horrible moment, Whitney thought she was going to
be sick. She stopped, trying to steady her shaking limbs, and swallowed back
the aching lump in her throat. “Am I going somewhere, Father?” she asked,
trying to sound calm and indifferent.
They all
turned and stared, and her father’s face tightened into lines of impatience and
annoyance. “To France,” he replied abruptly. “To live with your aunt and uncle,
who are going to try to make a lady out of you.”
Carefully
avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes, lest she break down then and there, Whitney
slid into her chair at the table. “Have you informed my aunt and uncle of the
risk they are taking?” she asked, concentrating all her strength on preventing
her father from seeing what he had just done to her heart. She looked coldly at
her aunt and uncle’s guilty, embarrassed faces. “Father may have neglected to
mention you’re risking disgrace by welcoming me into your home. As he will tell
you, I’ve a hideous disposition, I’m rag-mannered, and I haven’t a trace of
polite conversation.”
Her aunt
was watching her with naked pity, but her father’s expression was stony. “Oh
Papa,” she whispered brokenly, “do you really despise me this much? Do you hate
me so much that you have to send me out of your sight?” Her eyes swimming with
unshed tears, Whitney stood up. “If you . . . will excuse
me . . . I’m not very hungry this evening.”
“How could
you!” Anne cried when she left, rising from her own chair and glaring furiously
at Martin Stone. “You are the most heartless, unfeeling—it will be a pleasure
to remove that child from your clutches. How she has survived this long is a
testimony to her strength. I’m sure I could never have done so well.”
“You
refine too much upon her words, Madam,” Martin said icily. “I assure you that
what has her looking so distraught is not the prospect of being parted from me.
I have merely put a premature end to her plans to continue making a fool of
herself over Paul Sevarin.”
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Judith McNaught Historical Romances:
Let New York Times bestselling author Judith McNaught who “is in a class by herself” (USA TODAY) sweep you off your feet and into another time with her sensual, passionate, and spellbinding historical romance classics, featuring her “unique magic” (RT Book Reviews)!
SEQUELS SERIES
Once and Always
Victoria Seaton, a blithe and fiercely independent orphan, leaves her home in America to travel across the vast Atlantic to claim her long-lost inheritance: a labyrinthine English estate named Wakefield. There she encounters her distant cousin, the notorious, proud, and mysterious Lord Jason Fielding. Drawn to his magnetic charisma, Victoria can’t help but suspect that like her, he harbors a dark and painful past. Neither Victoria or Jason are able to resist one another’s charm but, in a moment of blinding anguish, Victoria discovers the shocking truth that lays at the heart of their love—a love she had dreamed would triumph.
9781501145520
$7.99
Something Wonderful
“Judith McNaught not only spins dreams but makes them come true” (RT Book Reviews) in this sensual and moving tale of a tempestuous marriage facing its ultimate test. Alexandra Lawrence, an innocent country girl, and Jordan Townsende, the rich and powerful Duke of Hawthorne, have always had a stormy relationship. But when she is swept into the endlessly fascinating world of London society, free-spirited Alexandra becomes ensnared in a tangled web of jealousy, revenge, and overwhelming passion. But behind her husband’s cold, haughty mask, there lives a tender, vital, sensual man...the man Alexandra married. Now, she will fight for his very life and the rapturous bond they alone can share.
9781501145544
$7.99
Almost Heaven
Elizabeth Cameron, the Countess of Havenhurst, possesses a rare gentleness and fierce courage to match her exquisite beauty. But her reputation is shattered when she is discovered in the arms of Ian Thornton, a notorious gambler and social outcast. A dangerously handsome man of secret wealth and mysterious lineage, Ian’s interest in Elizabeth may not be all that it seems. His voyage to her heart is fraught with intrigue, scandal, and a venomous revenge. As a twisting path of secrets takes them from London’s drawing rooms to the awe-inspiring Scottish Highlands, Elizabeth must learn the truth: is Ian merely a ruthless fortune hunter at heart? “Well-developed main characters with a compelling mutual attraction give strength and charm to this romance set in nineteenth-century Great Britain” (Publishers Weekly).
9781501145698
$7.99
WESTMORELAND DYNASTY SAGA
Whitney, My Love
A saucy spitfire who has grown into a ravishing young woman, Whitney Stone returns from her triumphant time in Paris society to England. She plans on marrying her childhood sweetheart, only to discover she has been bargained away by her bankrupt father to the arrogant and alluring Clayton Westmoreland, the Duke of Claymore. Outraged, she defies her new lord. But even as his smoldering passion seduces her into a gathering storm of desire, Whitney cannot—will not—relinquish her dream of perfect love. Rich with emotion, brimming with laughter and tears, Whitney, My Love is “the ultimate love story, one you can dream about forever” (RT Book Reviews).
9781501145438
$2.99 (Offer Valid November 1st - December 4th, 2016)
A Kingdom of Dreams
Abducted from her convent school, headstrong Scottish beauty Jennifer Merrick does not easily surrender to Royce Westmoreland, Duke of Claymore. Known as “The Wolf,” his very name strikes terror in the hearts of his enemies. But proud Jennifer will have nothing to do with the fierce English warrior who holds her captive, no matter what he threatens. Boldly she challenges his will—until the night he takes her in his powerful embrace, awakening in her an irresistible hunger. Suddenly Jennifer finds herself ensnared in a bewildering and seductive web of pride, passion, and overwhelming love. This beloved tale about two defiant hearts clashing in a furious battle of wills in the glorious age of chivalry “will stay in your heart forever and be a classic on your shelves” (RT Book Reviews, Top Pick).
9781501145483
$7.99
Until You
In this unforgettable romantic adventure, a teacher of wealthy young ladies finds her life changed forever when she travels from the wilds of America to elegant London. Sheridan Bromleigh is hired to accompany one of her students, heiress Charise Lancaster, to England to meet her fiancé. But when her charge elopes with a stranger, Sheridan wonders how she will ever explain it to Charise’s intended, Lord Burleton. Standing on the pier, Stephen Westmoreland, the Earl of Langford, assumes the young woman coming toward him is Charise Lancaster and reluctantly informs her of his inadvertent role in a fatal accident involving Lord Burleton the night before. And just as the young woman is about to speak, she steps into the path of a cargo net loaded with crates. Sheridan awakens in Westmoreland’s mansion with no memory of who she is; the only hint of her past is the puzzling fact that everyone calls her Miss Lancaster. All she truly knows is that she is falling in love with a handsome English earl, and that the life unfolding before her seems full of wondrous possibilities.
9781501145490
$7.99
Miracles (in A Holiday of Love)
Now available for the first time ever as an e-novella, New York Times bestselling author Judith McNaught’s short historical romance Miracles—which ties up ends left open in the Westmoreland Dynasty Saga—is available for the first time ever as a standalone e-novella. In Regency London, world-weary lord Nicki du Ville receives an outrageous proposal from Julianna Skeffington, who is Sheridan Bromleigh’s charge from Until You.
9781501145711
$1.99
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Judith McNaught Contemporary Historical Romances:
Discover the sensual and sweeping power of love in New York Times bestselling author Judith McNaught’s contemporary romances that will make “you laugh, cry, and fall in love again” (RT Book Reviews)!
STAND-ALONES
Tender Triumph
Tender Triumph
On Friday, a sensuous stranger enters Katie’s life. By Sunday, her life is irrevocably changed forever.
Katie Connelly submerges her painful past in a promising career, an elegant apartment, and men she can keep at a distance. Yet something vital is missing from her life—until she meets proud, rugged Ramon Galverra. With his charm and his passionate nature, Ramon gives her a love she had never known. Still she is afraid to surrender her heart to this strong, willful, secretive man—a man from a different world, a man with a bold, uncertain future. Will Katie’s relationship with Ramon survive once the thrill of their simmering passion subsides?
9781501145421
$7.99
Double Standards
In the exclusive, glittering world of business superstars, Nick Sinclair is a legend. The ruggedly handsome president of Global Industries handles his business the way he handles his women—with charm, daring, and ruthless self-control. A man used to the very best, Nick hires Lauren Danner and assumes the proud beauty will soon be another easy conquest. But Lauren’s flashing wit and rare spirit dazzles him and slowly, against his will, he’s intrigued, challenged, and in love. Yet he doesn’t know that Lauren is living a lie and, trapped in a web of deceit, she fights her growing love for Nick. Her secret could destroy his fragile trust and the promise of life with the most compelling man she has ever met.
9781501145704
$7.99
FOSTER SAGA
Remember When
When multinational tycoon Cole Harrison approaches her on a moonlit balcony at the White Orchid Charity Ball, Diana Foster has no idea how life-changing the night ahead will be. The most lavish social event of the Houston season had brought out Texas aristocracy in glittering array but Diana only agreed to attend to save face after reading about her fiancé leaving her for an Italian heiress in a sleazy gossip magazine. Her Beautiful Living magazine is her family’s success story, and Diana knows that as a single, childless, and suddenly unengaged woman, she is not living up to its lucrative image of upscale domestic tranquility. But when she spots the pride of Dallas billionaires, Cole Harrison, closing in on her with two crystal flutes and a bottle of champagne, she has no idea that he has ulterior motives for seducing her tonight. And he certainly has no idea that a match made in what he considers logic’s heaven might be headed straight for an unexpected, once-in-a-lifetime love. “Judith McNaught once again works her unique magic in this charming, sparkling romance” (RT Book Reviews, 4 stars).
9781439140802
$7.99
PARADISE SERIES
Paradise
“Judith McNaught comes close to an Edith Wharton edge” (The Chicago Tribune) in this stylish and fast-paced classic. Ruthless corporate raider Matthew Farrell is poised to move in on the legendary department store empire owned by Chicago’s renowned Bancroft family. In the glare of the media spotlight, it’s a stunning takeover that overshadows the electric chemistry between Matt, once a scruffy kid from steel town Indiana, and cool, sophisticated Meredith Bancroft. Their brief, ill-fated marriage sparked with thrilling sensuality but ended with a bitter betrayal. Now, locked in a battle that should be all business, dangerous temptations, and bittersweet memories are stirring their hearts. Will they risk everything for a passion too bold to be denied?
9781439138793
$7.99
Perfect
A rootless foster child, Julie Mathison has blossomed under the love showered upon her by her adoptive family. Now a lovely and vivacious young woman, she is a respected teacher in her small Texas town and is determined to give back all the kindness she has received, believing that nothing can ever shatter the perfect life she has fashioned. Zachary Benedict is an actor whose Academy Award-winning career was shattered when he was wrongly convicted of murdering his wife. After the tall, ruggedly handsome Zack escapes from a Texas prison, he abducts Julie and forces her to drive him to his Colorado mountain hideout. She’s outraged, cautious, and unable to ignore the instincts that whispers of his innocence. He’s cynical, wary, and increasingly attracted to her. Desire is about to capture them both in its fierce embrace but the journey to trust, true commitment, and proving Zack’s innocence is just beginning.“A mixture of virtue and passion that is almost—ahem—perfect” (Kirkus Reviews) this is a captivating tale that fans will adore.
9781439140710
$7.99
Night Whispers
In this “exciting tale of loyalty, love, and danger” (Publishers Weekly), Sloan Reynolds, a small-town Florida policewoman, knows that her modest upbringing is a long way from the social whirl of Palm Beach, the world inhabited by her father and her sister, Paris. Total strangers to Sloan, they have never tried to contact her—until a sudden invitation arrives, to meet them and indulge in the Palm Beach social season. Reluctant to accept the long-overdue familial gesture, Sloan is convinced to visit when an FBI colleague informs her that her father and his associates are suspected of fraud, conspiracy, and murder. The only catch is she must hide her true profession from her family. Sloan is on top of her game until she meets Noah Maitland, a multinational corporate player and one of the FBI’s prime suspects. She finds herself powerfully attracted to him, against her deepest instincts. When a shocking murder shatters the seductive facade of the wealth and glamour surrounding her, Sloan must maneuver through a maze of deceit and passion in this superb and enthralling tale of breathtaking suspense.
9781439140833
$7.99
Someone to Watch Over Me
Leigh Kendall is relishing her stellar Broadway acting career in her marriage to Logan Manning, scion of an old New York family, when her husband finds the perfect mountain property for their dream house. But while driving upstate on a winter’s night, Leigh is run off the road in the midst of a blinding blizzard. When she awakes in the local hospital, seriously injured, the police inform her that her husband has mysteriously disappeared, and Leigh becomes the focus of their suspicions. The more she discovers about her husband and his business affairs, the less she realizes she knew about Logan Manning. Now, Leigh is heading deeper and deeper into unknown territory—where friends and enemies are impossible to distinguish, and the truth becomes the most terrifying weapon of all in this thrilling tale filled with unrelenting suspense, unforgettable characters, and powerful traces of greed, ambition, and desire.
9781501145445
$7.99
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About Judith McNaught:
Judith McNaught is the New York Times bestselling author who first soared to stardom with her stunning bestseller Whitney, My Love, and went on to win the hearts of millions of readers with Once and Always, Something Wonderful, A Kingdom of Dreams, Almost Heaven, Paradise, Perfect, Until You, Remember When, Someone to Watch Over Me, the #1 bestseller Night Whispers, and other novels. There are more than thirty million copies of her books in print. She lives in Houston. Please visit her at JudithMcNaught.com and on Facebook at AuthorJudithMcNaught.
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I remember when Whitney came out. What a fabulous career she's had.
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