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Authors: Anna Campbell

BOOK: My Reckless Surrender
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Tempt the Devil

Olivia Raines has ruled London's demimonde with an iron will and a fiery spirit. Sought after by London's most eligible men, she has never had cause to question her power until she meets the notorious Julian Southwood, Earl of Erith. From the moment he saw her, Julian knew he must possess her. So when he discovers a secret that could destroy her livelihood, Olivia has no choice but to bargain with the devil.

 

E
ven as Olivia spoke the words to place her in Lord Erith's bed, her instincts screamed to deny him. Her mind told her she risked no more than she'd risked with any other keeper. Her deepest self insisted the earl threatened everything she'd created since she'd accepted harlotry as her inevitable fate.

Unreasoning fear tightened every muscle.

Fear was her oldest, most insidious enemy. More powerful than any man.

I will not surrender to fear.

And why should she be frightened? Since reaching womanhood, she'd never met a male she couldn't dominate. Lord Erith was nothing special. She'd have great pleasure proving that. To the world. To him. To herself. Her reluctance now was just part of the odd humor that had gripped her since she'd ended her last affair, months ago.

A sharp ache in her wrists made her realize how hard she clutched her hands together. Deliberately, she relaxed her grip, although she already knew he'd noted the betraying gesture.

Something—satisfaction, triumph, possession?—gleamed from under his heavy eyelids.

“Good.” He stood and stared down at her. She'd never been so conscious of his impressive height or the latent power in his body. “I'll see you tonight, Olivia.”

It was the first time he'd used her Christian name. Given what they'd soon do to each other, the small intimacy shouldn't matter. Somehow it did. That deep voice saying Olivia shredded her protective formality and laid her bare as if she already stood naked before him.

I will not surrender to fear.

She tilted her chin and glared. “I don't entertain my lovers in this house,” she said icily.

“I didn't imagine you would.” His narrow, sensual mouth curled into a sardonic smile. “I want every man in London to know you're mine. I want to see you. It builds the…anticipation.”

How could he make such a harmless word sound more decadent than all the profanities she'd heard in a lifetime of whoring? The temperature of her voice sank another couple of degrees. “I belong to no man, Lord Erith.”

“You'll belong to me,” he said steadily.

 

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Untouched

When Grace Paget is kidnapped and spirited away to a remote manor and told she is to grant the inhabitant his every desire, she risks everything to save her virtue…Lord Sheene knew nothing of the plan to bring him this woman, and wants nothing to do with the scheme. But as the unlikely pair find themselves ensnared in a deadly web, they also discover freedom and breathtaking passion in each other's arms.

 

L
ord Sheene kept his back to Grace as he looked out into the twilight. Yet again, his isolation struck her. His physical isolation. And also his spiritual isolation. Perhaps that alone constituted his madness. So far, she'd seen little other sign of his affliction.

He spoke without turning. “Stay away from Monks and Filey. They don't make idle threats.”

Again, that instinctive animal awareness of what happened around him. Were all madmen so attuned to their surroundings?

She wouldn't have thought so.

A sudden memory pierced her of his intense concentration on the spindly rosebush that morning. His hands had been so deft, their very sureness breathtakingly beautiful. Her wayward heart dipped into an unsteady dance at the thought of those hands on her skin.

Grace, stop it! You're in enough trouble as it is.

Heavens, she must regain self-control and quickly. The last thing she needed was an infatuation with her fellow captive.
She hadn't thought about a man touching her for pleasure in years. Certainly not since her marriage and the collapse of her girlish fantasies.

She stepped up to stand beside him. The window faced the darkening woods. The day had been clear. Now the first stars shone in the cloudless sky. It could have been a landscape by Claude. If one didn't know an unscalable wall circled the trees or two homicidal devils guarded the gate to this perilous Eden.

The silence allowed her to say something she was guiltily aware she should have said earlier. “Thank you, my lord. If you hadn't come…”

“Don't think about it.” He focused those uncanny eyes on her. Except that after a day and a half, she noticed their strangeness less and their beauty more.

“I can't help it.” She'd been frightened and wretched for so long, even before her abduction. But nothing matched the horror that had gripped her when Monks stared into her face and promised rape and death. Compared to that, the mad marquess was a bastion of security. The clinging ghost of today's panic made her speak more freely than usual. “You were magnificent.”

 

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Claiming the Courtesan

The Duke of Kylemore knows her as Soraya, London's most celebrated courtesan. Men fight duels to spend an hour in her company, and only he comes close to taming her…Dire circumstances have forced Verity Ashton to barter her innocence and change her name for the sake of her family. All she wants is her freedom, but with a notorious rogue determined to possess her in every way possible, can Verity ever escape the man who claims her both body and soul?

 

I
thank Your Grace for your continuing kindness.” Soraya stepped toward Kylemore and kissed him on the mouth.

They rarely kissed, and a kiss as a gesture of affection was an unprecedented event.

But that was what this felt like to Kylemore. She wasn't trying to seduce him. After a year, he would recognize seduction. And he'd already given her the extravagant pendant. Even greedy as she was, she couldn't hope to coax another maharajah's bauble from his pocket.

No, he could only assume she kissed him because she wanted to.

That revolutionary idea had just taken hold when she drew away. The soft pink lips that had clung so sweetly to his, and sweetly was the only word he could bring to mind, curled into a faint smile. “Good day to you, Your Grace.”

He snatched at her hand and, still lost in the memory of her kiss—which was absurd given the debaucheries they had
indulged in all afternoon—raised her slender fingers to his lips with the reverence due a princess.

When he lifted his head, he caught a bewilderment that matched his own in her silver eyes. “Good day to you too, madam.”

He released her and strode from the room, down the stairs, and out of the villa he'd bought her a year ago. But no matter how far he went, he couldn't quite banish the memory of her mouth on his in a kiss that was almost…innocent.

His infamous, dangerous, enigmatic Soraya. And he was no closer to understanding her now than he'd been six years ago.

 

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If you love Anna Campbell and are looking for more scintillating passion in a contemporary setting, you won't want to miss rising star Toni Blake!

Turn the page for a sneak peek at the latest installment in
Blake's Destiny series…

Sugar Creek

When Rachel Farris ran from Destiny, Ohio, fifteen years ago, she had no intention of returning. But with her grandmother in danger of losing her apple orchard to a family enemy, Rachel decides to head back long enough to save the day…and then leave just as quickly. Gruff, by-the-book police officer, Mike Romo, wanted the land stolen from his family decades ago, but he wasn't prepared to contend with shapely trouble in tight designer jeans. And neither sexy cop nor prodigal hometown girl anticipated the snapping electricity that threatens their most carefully laid plans.

 

T
he first thing Rachel noticed was the way he scowled at her from behind typical mirrored cop sunglasses.

And the second was…oh dear. Oh
my
. Her throat went dry.

He was no Deputy Dawg—and a far cry from Barney Fife. In fact, he was…a cop
god.
With thick, dark hair and olive skin, a day's growth of stubble covering his strong jaw, and shoulders that filled out his beige uniform quite nicely, he was…shockingly hot. Even behind mirrored sunglasses. And in Destiny, of all places! How was that possible?

But then she recalled her friend Amy—who still lived here—mentioning some sexy-as-sin Romo being a town policeman. Her heart beat faster than before, and she suddenly had to work to control her breathing.

Even while he snarled at her.

But wait—stop. Get hold of yourself.

Sure, he's hot—but he's a Romo. And a mean, growly one at that.

He proved her point by glancing back down to grouse, “Out-of-state license.”

“That would be because I live out of state,” she heard herself reply dryly. She didn't normally talk back to cops, but apparently she just couldn't take this attitude from a Romo lying down.

Not that she would
mind
lying down with him. If he were a little nicer. And not a Romo, of course. But he
was
—and her unwitting attraction to him was making her all the more irate.

Her remark earned another handsome scowl, to which he added, “Edna's not frail or ailing, by the way. So your excuse doesn't fly.”

Oops. Clearly, he knew the town well enough to know Edna was the only Farris left who might have a granddaughter coming to see her. “Well, that's not how
she
tells it,” she argued. “All I know is that she summoned me to help with the apple harvest, so that's what I'm doing—if you'll kindly let me go on my way.”

To her surprise, he lowered his chin, appearing suspicious. “You don't look like much of an orchard worker.”

Who asked you?
She bit her tongue for once, though, and tried to regain her composure. In fact, it suddenly hit her that all her powers of persuasion had pretty much gone out the window somewhere along the way. So she gave her head a confident tilt, and in her smoothest voice replied, “My skill set might surprise you.” And…hmm, was that being confident—or flirting?

“And no way I'm letting you off that easy,” he added.

Okay, didn't matter whether it was confidence or flirtation since, either way, it hadn't worked. So now
she
scowled at
him
. “Come on, Romo, cut me a break.”

When his dark eyebrows rose behind those sunglasses, she realized what she'd just said—but again, she couldn't let
him…
win
. Since, that quickly, that's what it felt like with this guy—a matter of winning or losing. Farris
vs.
Romo. She couldn't let him get the best of her without at least fighting back.

“I've got news for you,
Farris,
” he practically growled. “Maybe you can argue your way out of tickets up in Chicago, but not in Destiny. You were going twenty over the limit.”

Whoops. Twenty? Really? Still…“Can I be honest with you?” It was time for a new tactic.

“All right,” he said dryly, sounding doubtful already.

But that didn't stop her from gazing up into that sexy cop-god face, and saying, with true sincerity, “When such a low speed limit is posted on such a wide-open stretch of highway, I don't actually know how a person can be expected to
go
so slow. I'm sure you know what I mean—it's nearly impossible.”

And when he peered down on her, his expression softening a bit, she suspected he was beginning to understand her point—and she found herself wishing she could see his eyes. Were they as gorgeous as the rest of him? What color were they? Brown, maybe? That was when he said to her in a completely patronizing tone, “Let me explain it to you, Farris. You
ease. Off. The gas
.”

Okay, he was hot as hell—but still a jerk. So she forgot all about his eyes and said, “Romos always
were
smart-asses.”

“Farrises,” he announced, “
set the bar
for being smart-asses. Not to mention the fact that they have a long history of not abiding by the law.”

All right, that might be true, but she still rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner and tried to look deeply insulted. “Can you just give me my ticket now so I can get to Edna's before she has a heart attack or something?”

Mike Romo seldom stood around arguing with traffic offenders, but something about this woman had gotten under his skin, quick. Maybe the fact that she was a city girl to the
bone, made obvious not only by her arrogant attitude but by the stylish haircut that didn't quite reach her shoulders, the trendy dark jeans she wore, and the sleek-looking scarf hanging loose around her neck. Or maybe it was because she was extremely attractive—blond, slender, the works—and had probably thought that would get her off the hook. Or…maybe it was just because most people didn't have the nerve to backtalk him when openly breaking the law.

“I
could
arrest you, you know,” he informed her—mainly because her lack of regard for authority pissed him off. Yet as he heard his own words, something low in his gut warmed, and he realized he could think of a plenty of things to do to her that would be a lot more pleasant than arrest.

 

SUGAR CREEK: A Destiny Novel

 

By Toni Blake

 

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