Friday, February 27, 2015

A Night to Surrender by Tessa Dare

Spindle Cove #1
Susanna has made Spindle Cove a place for young women that don't fit into the ideal Regency Era woman. The troubles she had made her feel inadequate. Everything is going great until a bunch of military men invade her town led by Victor Bramwell. Bram is determined to get back to the war even though he has a bad knee. He is convinced that Susanna's father will help.
But Susanna's father has his own plan. Bram and Susanna are drawn to each other, seeing what they need in the other person. Will they fall in love or will circumstances keep them apart?

I would give this book a 3 and half. I liked it but was bored in some spots.

From the author:
Welcome to Spindle Cove, where ladies with delicate constitutions come for the sea air, and men in their prime are…nowhere to be found.Or are they?
Spindle Cove is the destination of choice for certain types of well-bred young ladies: the awkward, the delicate, the painfully shy; young wives disenchanted with matrimony and young girls too enchanted with the wrong men. It’s a haven for the women who live there.
Victor Bramwell, the new Earl of Rycliff, knows he doesn’t belong in “Spinster Cove,” but he has orders to gather a militia. It’s a simple mission, made complicated by the spirited, exquisite Susanna Finch—a woman who is determined to save her personal utopia from the invasion of Bram’s makeshift army.
The scene is set for an epic battle…but who can be named the winner when both have so much to lose?

Excerpt:
Sussex, England
Summer 1813
Bram stared into a pair of wide, dark eyes. Eyes that reflected a surprising glimmer of intelligence. This might be the rare female a man could reason with.
“Now, then,” he said. “We can do this the easy way, or we can make things difficult.”
With a soft snort, she turned her head. It was as if he’d ceased to exist.
Bram shifted his weight to his good leg, feeling the stab to his pride. He was a lieutenant colonel in the British Army, and at over six feet tall, he was said to cut an imposing figure. Typically, a pointed glance from his quarter would quell the slightest hint of disobedience. He was not accustomed to being ignored.
“Listen sharp, now.” He gave her ear a rough tweak and sank his voice to a low threat. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do as I say.”
Though she spoke not a word, her reply was clear: You can kiss my great woolly arse.
Confounded sheep.
“Ah, the English countryside. So charming. So . . . fragrant.” Colin approached, stripped of his London-best topcoat, wading hip-deep through the river of wool. Blotting the sheen of perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief, he asked, “I don’t suppose this means we can simply turn back?”
Ahead of them, a boy pushing a handcart had overturned his cargo, strewing corn all over the road. It was an open buffet, and every ram and ewe in Sussex appeared to have answered the invitation. A vast throng of sheep bustled and bleated around the unfortunate youth, gorging themselves on the spilled grain—and completely obstructing Bram’s wagons.
“Can we walk the teams in reverse?” Colin asked. “Perhaps we can go around, find another road.”
Bram gestured at the surrounding landscape. “There is no other road.”
They stood in the middle of the rutted dirt lane, which occupied a kind of narrow, winding valley. A steep bank of gorse rose up on one side, and on the other, some dozen yards of heath separated the road from dramatic bluffs. And below those—far below those—lay the sparkling turquoise sea. If the air was seasonably dry and clear, and Bram squinted hard at that thin indigo line of the horizon, he might even glimpse the northern coast of France.
So close. He’d get there. Not today, but soon. He had a task to accomplish here, and the sooner he completed it, the sooner he could rejoin his regiment. He wasn’t stopping for anything.
Except sheep. Blast it. It would seem they were stopping for sheep.
A rough voice said, “I’ll take care of them.”
Thorne joined their group. Bram flicked his gaze to the side and spied his hulking mountain of a corporal shouldering a flintlock rifle.
“We can’t simply shoot them, Thorne.”
Obedient as ever, Thorne lowered his gun. “Then I’ve a cutlass. Just sharpened the blade last night.”
“We can’t butcher them, either.”

Read more here.

ebook294 pages
Published August 30th 2011 by Avon

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