The Governess Club: Louisa (27 page)

Give in to your impulses . . .

Read on for a sneak peek at six brand-new

e-book original tales of romance from Avon Impulse.

Available now wherever e-books are sold.

BEAUTY AND THE BRIT

By Lizbeth Selvig

THE GOVERNESS CLUB: SARA

By Ellie Macdonald

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

B
OOK
T
WO:
I
NDEPENDENCE
F
ALLS

By Sara Jane Stone

SINFUL REWARDS 1

A
B
ILLIONAIRES AND
B
IKERS
N
OVELLA

By Cynthia Sax

WHEN THE RANCHER CAME TO TOWN

A
V
ALENTINE
V
ALLEY
N
OVELLA

By Emma Cane

LEARNING THE ROPES

By T. J. Kline

An Excerpt from

by Lizbeth Selvig

Tough and self-reliant Rio Montoya has looked after her two siblings for most of their lives. But when a gang leader makes threats against her sister Bonnie, even Rio isn’t prepared for the storm that could destroy her family. Rio seeks refuge for them all at a peaceful horse farm in the small town of Kennison Falls, Minnesota, but her budding romance with the stable’s owner, handsome British ex-pat David Pitts-Matherson, feels as dangerous as her past.

“D
id I ever tell you how much I hate British arrogance?” Chase grinned and captured the ball, dribbled it to the free-throw line, turned, and sank the shot. “Nothin’ but net.”

“Did I ever tell you how much I hate Americans showing off?”

“Yup. You have.”

David laughed again and clapped Chase on the arm. Not quite a year before, Chase had married David’s good friend and colleague Jill Carpenter, and this was the second time David had overnighted with Chase at Crossroads Youth and Community Center in Minneapolis. He was grateful for the camaraderie, and for the free lodging on his supply runs to the city, but mostly for the distraction from life at the stable back home in Kennison Falls. Here there were no bills staring up at him from his desk, no finances to finagle, no colicky horses. Here he could forget he was one disaster away from . . . well, disaster.

It also boggled his mind that he and Chase had an entire converted middle school to themselves.

“All right, play to thirty,” Chase said, tossing him the ball. “Oughta take me no more’n three minutes to hang your limey ass out to dry.”

“Bring it on, Nancy-boy.”

A loud buzzer halted the game before it started.

“Isn’t that the front door?” David asked.

“Yeah.” Deep lines formed between Chase’s brows.

The center had officially closed an hour before at nine o’clock. Members with I.D. pass cards could enter until eleven—but only did so for emergencies. David followed Chase toward the gymnasium doors. Voices echoed down the hallway.

“Stop pulling, Rio, you’re worse than Hector. He’s not going to follow us in here.”

“It’s Bonnie and Rio Montoya.” Surprise colored Chase’s voice. “Rio’s one of the really good ones. Sane. Hardworking. I can’t imagine why she’s here.”

Rio?
David searched his memory but could only recall ever hearing the name in the Duran Duran song.

“Don’t be an idiot.” A second voice, filled with firm, angry notes, rang out clearly as David neared the source. “Of course they’re following us. They may not come inside, but they’ll be waiting, and you cannot handle either of them no matter how much you think you can. Dr. Preston’s on duty tonight. He might be able to run interference.”

“They won’t listen to him. To them he’s just a pretty face. Let me talk to Heco. You never gave me the chance.”

“And I won’t, even if I have to lock you in juvie for a year.”

“God, Rio, you just don’t get it.”

“You’re right, Bonnie Marie. I don’t. What in God’s name possessed you to meet Hector Black after curfew? Do you know what almost went down in that parking lot? Do you know who that other dude
was
?”

Chase hustled through the doorway. “Rio? Bonnie? Something happen?”

David followed five feet behind him. The hallway outside the gym glowed with harsh fluorescent lighting. Chase had the attention of both girls, but when David moved into view, one of them turned. A force field slammed him out of nowhere—a force field made up of amber-red hair and blazing blue eyes.

Frozen to the spot, he stared and she stared back. Her hair shone the color of new pennies on fire, and her complexion, more olive and exotic than a typical pale redhead’s, captivated him. Her lips, parted and uncertain, were pinup-girl full. Her body, beneath a worn-to-softness plaid flannel shirt, was molded into the kind of feminine curves that got a shallow-thinking man in trouble. David normally prided himself on having left such loutishness behind in his university days, but he was rapidly reverting.

“Rio? You all right?” Chase called, and she broke the staring contest first.

David blinked.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m sorry to come in so late. I needed a safe place for this one.”

An Excerpt from

by Ellie Macdonald

Sweet Sara Collins is one of the founding members of the Governess Club. But she has a secret: She doesn’t love teaching. She’d much prefer to be a vicar’s wife and help the local community. Nathan Grant is the embodiment of everything that frightens her. When Sara decides it’s time to take a chance and experience
all
that life has to offer, Nathan is the first person she thinks of. Will Sara’s walk on the wild side ruin her chances at a simple, happy life? Or has she just opened the door to a once-in-a-lifetime chance at passion?

M
r. Pomeroy helped her down from the gig, and Sara took a long look at Windent Hall. Curtains covering the windows shielded the interior from a visitor’s view, lending the building a cold and unwelcoming front. Rotted trees and dead grass lined the driveway, and cracks were visible along the red brickwork. Piles of crumbled mortar littered the edge of the manor house, and even the front portico was listing to the side, on the verge of toppling over.

The place reeked of neglect, which was to be expected after thirty years of vacancy. What Sara hadn’t expected was the blanket of loneliness that shrouded the house, adding to the chilly ambiance. She couldn’t help feeling that it had been calling out to be noticed, only to be ignored that much longer.

She couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down her body.

Sara turned to Mr. Pomeroy as he offered his arm. “Are you certain we should be here? We are uninvited.”

He led her gingerly up the front steps. “Even so, I feel it is my duty to welcome him to the community. One can see that taking on this place is a task of great proportions. He needs to know that he is welcomed here and be informed of the local tradesmen and laborers available.”

His logic was sound. But she couldn’t keep from wincing when the door protested his banging with a loud crack down the middle. Mr. Pomeroy and Sara shared a glance. He grimaced apologetically.

The door creaked open, only to stop partway. A muffled curse was heard from the other side, and eight fingers appeared in the opening. Grunting started as whoever was on the far side started to pull. Mr. Pomeroy shrugged and added his efforts in pushing. With a loud squeal, the door inched open until Sara and the vicar were able to pass through.

They stepped into a dark foyer, dustcovers over everything, including a large chandelier and all the wall sconces. The man who had opened the door was walking away down a corridor on one side of the main staircase. “I don’t get paid enuff fer this,” they could hear him muttering. He pushed open a door and pointed into the room. “Youse wait in there.” He disappeared farther down the corridor.

Sara stared. Mr. Pomeroy stared. They looked at each other. With another shrug, Mr. Pomeroy started down the corridor, and she had little choice but to follow.

It was a parlor, as far as Sara could tell, underneath all the dust. The pale green walls were faded and damaged, giving the impression of sickness. No paintings adorned them, and none of the other small pieces one expected in a room such as this were evident. The furniture that was not hidden by dustcovers was torn and did not appear strong enough to hold any weight whatsoever. She sat on the sofa gingerly, hoping it would not give out underneath her.

“Perhaps we should not have come today,” she whispered to Mr. Pomeroy. “It does not appear Mr. Grant is prepared to receive visitors of any sort.”

The vicar acknowledged her point with an incline of his head. “We are here now, however. We will not stay long, simply offer our welcome and depart.”

They had been waiting in the sparse room for nearly twenty-five minutes before she heard a tapping out in the corridor. It drew closer, and Sara turned her head to the door, wondering what was causing the sound. A gold tip struck the floor at the threshold, and Sara’s eyes followed a black shaft upward to a matching gold top shaped into the form of a wolf’s head. The head was loosely grasped by lean fingers, confident of their ability to control the cane.

Her eyes continued to rise, taking in the brown coat, striped waistcoat, and snowy white cravat before reaching the gentleman’s face. Her eyes widened in recognition, and her breath caught in her throat when she realized that the man was none other than the stranded traveler from a few days prior.

Up close and stationary, his icy blue eyes were even paler, and at this moment, the bloodshot orbs exuded barely concealed disdain that made her even more aware of their lack of an invitation to visit. She barely registered the ants in her throat, for she was too riveted by his face.

An Excerpt from

Book Two: Independence Falls

by Sara Jane Stone

For Liam Trulane, failure is not an option. He is determined to win a place in Katie Summers’ life before she leaves Independence Falls for good. First, he needs to make amends for the last time they got down and dirty. But falling for his rivals’ little sister could cost him everything in the second installment of a hot new series from contemporary romance writer Sara Jane Stone.

“W
hat are you going to do with it?” Katie asked, drawing him back to the present and the piece of land that proved he was walking down the path marked success. The equity stake in Moore Timber his best friend had offered Liam in exchange for help running the company was one more milestone on that road—and one he had yet to prove he deserved.

“Thinking about building a home here someday,” Liam said.

“A house? I would have thought you’d want to forget about this place. About us. After the way you ended it.” Katie raised her hand to her mouth as if she couldn’t believe she’d said those words out loud.

Liam stopped beside her, losing his grip on the goat’s lead and allowing the animal to graze. “I messed up, Katie. I think we both know that. But I panicked when I realized how young you were, and how—”

“I was eighteen,” she snapped.

“By a few weeks. You were so innocent. And I felt all kinds of guilt for not realizing it sooner.”

“Not anymore,” she said, her voice firm. Defiant. “I’m not innocent anymore.”

“No.” Liam knew every line, every angle of her face. There were days he woke up dreaming about the soft feel of her skin. But it was the way Katie had looked at him after he’d gone too far, taken too much, that haunted his nightmares. In that moment, her green eyes had shone with hope and love.

Back then, when he was fresh out of college, returning home to build the life he’d dreamed about, that one look had sent him running scared. He wasn’t ready for the weight of her emotions.

And he sure as hell wasn’t ready now. Eric had given Liam one job since handing over part of the company—buy Summers Family Trucking. Liam couldn’t let his best friend, now his business partner, down. Whatever lingering feelings he had for Katie needed to wait on the sidelines until after Liam finished negotiating with her brothers. There was too much at stake—including his vision of a secure future—to blow this deal over the girl who haunted his fantasies.

He drew the goat away from the overgrown grass and started toward the wooded area on the other side of the clearing. “We should go. Get you home before too late.”

But Katie didn’t follow. She marched down to the fir trees. “I’m twenty-five, Liam. I don’t have a curfew. My brothers don’t sit around waiting for me to come home.”

“I know.”

Brody, Chad, and Josh were waiting for him. Liam had been on his way to see her brothers when he’d spotted her car on the side of the road. They’d reluctantly agreed to an informal meeting to discuss selling to Moore Timber.

She spun to face him, hands on her hips. “I think you wanted to take a walk down memory lane.”

“Katie—”

“Back then, you never held back.” She closed the gap between them, the toes of her sandal-clad feet touching his boots. “So tell me, Liam, what are we doing here?”

He fought the urge to reach for her. He had no right. Not to mention bringing her here had confirmed one thing: After seven years, Katie Summers still held his mistakes against him.

She raised one hand, pressing her index finger to his chest. Damn, he wished he’d kept his leather jacket on. Her touch ignited years of flat-out need. No, he hadn’t lived like a saint for seven years, but no one else turned him on like Katie Summers.