Ellesea Loves Reading: Lara Temple

Showing posts with label Lara Temple. Show all posts

Thursday, 28 April 2022

Publication Day Push and Extract: The Earl She Should Never Desire by Lara Temple

The Earl She Should Never Desire by Lara Temple

This very handsome earl…Is the one man she cannot fall for…
War widow Lily Walsh has left her aristocratic family behind, but she can’t deny her younger sister’s request to come to London to meet her fiancé. Though not a love match, Lord Sherborne is kind, amusing and ideal for her sister on paper. But as Lily gets to know him, she’s finding him alarmingly attractive! And the forbidden look in the earl’s eye shows the feeling is mutual…

This scene takes place after Lily convinces Marcus, Lord Sherbourne to agree to release her sister from their engagement so she can marry her childhood sweetheart. He agrees, but he has some conditions that Lily is only too happy to fulfill… They will meet three times and share three midsummer kisses. This is from their first meeting.

‘I don’t like gloves,’ she said, her voice low, almost dreamy. ‘I like to feel the world.’

‘Yes.’ He held on to her hand and brushed his knuckles along the line of her cheek with the other. The twin scars were a little puckered and he wanted to touch his mouth to the contrast between the velvety skin and those ridges. He touched his thumb to the line of her lower lip, settling on the soft, deep rose-coloured pout.

Her lips parted a little, her breathing shallow.

So was his. He hadn’t even done anything yet and his insides were already caving, his skin in flames.

One kiss today. Only one. Don’t be greedy.

He bent, touched his mouth to hers and had to stop, holding tight against the need to groan.

He proceeded carefully, brushing his lips against hers, buffing them like a cat. Her hand fluttered against his waistcoat before settling, her fingers curling into the fabric, dragging it against his skin. Cascades of sparks spread over his chest and downwards, adding to the growing heat in his groin.

God, he’d known it would feel right. He’d known it.

‘The day I came,’ she whispered, ‘you weren’t wearing a waistcoat.’

‘How improper of me,’ he whispered back and touched his tongue to the succulent middle of her upper lip. Her body shivered against him, her hands twisting deeper into the fabric of his coat.

It was going to kill him to go slowly.

‘I want you to be improper again,’ she whispered against his mouth. ‘Take it off.’

He drew back. ‘Take it off?’

‘Off.’

‘Here? Now?’

She flicked a button. ‘Here and now.’

He didn’t wait for further invitation. He tossed coat and waistcoat on to the table and she laid her hands gently on his shirt, the corners of her mouth picking up.

‘Better.’

He locked his legs. Steady on, now. ‘Your pelisse. Tit for tat.’

Her dimples deepened. There were only six buttons worked into the dark frogging and she slipped them off without coyness and laid her pelisse in a rather more orderly fashion on the back of a chair.

‘This doesn’t mean I agree to anything else,’ she said with a quick look and he shook his head.

‘Nor I. Just a kiss today.’

‘Just one?’ she asked.

‘I prefer to space out my treats. Come here.’

She laid her hands on his chest as she had before and raised her chin. There was so much in her eyes when she wasn’t being cautious. Excitement, worry, laughter. He gave up trying to understand either of them, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

And lost himself entirely.

https://books2read.com/ThreeKisses

https://bit.ly/MarcusLily

Lara Temple writes strong and sensual Regency romances about complex individuals who give no quarter but do so with plenty of passion. She lives with her husband, two children, and one very fluffy dog and they are all very understanding about her taking over the kitchen table so she can look out over the garden as she writes and dreams up her Happy Ever Afters.

Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/LaraTempleAuthor

Facebook: www.facebook.com/LaraTemple1

Twitter: www.twitter.com/laratemple1

Amazon author page US: http://bit.ly/LaraTemple

Amazon author page UK: http://bit.ly/LaraTempleUK

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/LaraTemple

Website: www.laratemple.com

Giveaway to Win 3 x e-copies of The Earl She Should Never Desire by Lara Temple (Open INT)

*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome. Please enter using the Rafflecopter box below. The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then Rachel’s Random Resources reserves the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over. Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time Rachel’s Random Resources will delete the data. I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.

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Sunday, 30 August 2020

Publication Day Push with an Extract: The Return of the Disappearing Duke by Lara Temple

The Return of the Disappearing Duke

A scarred mercenary…Or the Disappearing Duke of Greybourne?

Rafe has spent years running from his true identity. He’s a lone wolf, living far from aristocratic England and his violent father. Then unconventional Cleopatra Osbourne requests his protection as she crosses the Egyptian desert. In Cleo he discovers a fellow outcast—and a fierce desire! Cleo must return to London, and here lies Rafe’s dilemma—because following his heart means claiming the title he’s avoided for so long!

Amazon: http://mybook.to/RafeDuke

Amazon US paperback: https://bit.ly/RafeDuke1

Amazon UK: https://bit.ly/RafeDukeUK

Bookbub: https://bit.ly/RafeBookbub

While searching Cairo for her brother, Cleo saves Rafe from an assassin’s knife. In these scene they’ve made it back to their lodgings and Rafe is trying to distract her from what had nearly happened.
They ate in silence until Rafe spoke again.
‘Thank you, Cleo.’ His voice was low, resonant, like the rush of the Nile against the felucca's hull.
‘For what?’
He leaned back, the cane chair protesting.
‘I should have thanked you properly. For coming to my aid.’
‘I’m certain you would have managed.’
He shook his head.
‘Anyone can die, Cleo. I’ve seen skilled men make the most foolish mistakes. You should take credit where it is due.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘I know. And that is a bad sign. You can’t go around believing I’m infallible. Until we get you safely on your way to England you need to remain alert.’
‘I was alert. That is why you are sitting across from me and not dead or being stitched by a Cairene surgeon, which is not a fate I would wish on my worst enemy.’
He grinned and tapped the table with his palm.
‘That’s better. Moping does not suit you.’
‘I was not moping!’
‘Blue as a witch’s…never mind. I keep forgetting you are a lady.’
‘And I keep forgetting you’re a grown man.’
‘Excellent. Now throw something at me.’
‘Ladies do not throw things,’ she snapped.
‘They damned well do. They can’t easily throw a punch at me like a man might when riled. Though, like you right now, they might wish to. And my ragged face discourages slapping, so I’ve had the odd plate or tankard tossed at me. Go ahead if it will make you feel better.’
‘Breaking something merely because one is angry is childish and serves no purpose.’
‘Says someone who’s never done it. And you’re frightened, not angry.’
‘How precisely would breaking something alleviate fear?’
‘I didn’t say it would.’
‘Then why are you telling me to break something?’ Her voice was rising, shedding all pretence at calm.
‘To distract you. It’s working, too.’
‘You. Are. Infuriating!’ She ground her teeth, thumping her fists on the table. Part of her knew his object was not merely to distract her, but to break the strange tension that was binding them and that made her even angrier. She didn’t want him to be flippant now, not when she was still shaking inwardly. She wanted something completely different and he knew that and that was precisely why he was trying to make her angry. Well, he’d succeeded.
If her plate had not still been half full of Birdie’s stew, she might have succumbed and done just what he suggested. Smashed, shattered, razed, crushed it into tiny bits and stomped on them until they were dust. Until fear and need and confusion were consumed in the fireball of her fury. Until she was free of everything, including the most impossible man she’d ever met.