The Beautiful One by Emily Greenwood
The Scandalous Sisters, Book 1
Historical Regency Romance
June 2, 2015
Buy THE BEAUTIFUL ONE here:
Thank you so much for having me here today! To celebrate the release of THE BEAUTIFUL ONE, the first title in my Scandalous Sisters series, I asked Anna Black, my spirited heroine, to answer a few questions so you can get to know a little about her and her love interest, Will Halifax, Viscount Grandville.
What makes you
smile?
Absurdity. Dogs. Willow branches blowing in a breeze.
What are you most
grateful for?
It’s kind of strange to admit, but I’m grateful for what
happened when my father’s apprentice secretly made a book of scandalous
drawings of me. It seemed like a horrible disaster at the time, but without it,
I never would have met Will.
A PICTURE SAYS A
THOUSAND WORDS…
The ton is buzzing about The Beautiful One, a striking
figure in a scandalous book of nude sketches. Only two men know the true
identity of The Beautiful One, and they are scouring the countryside,
determined to find her.
BUT NOT THE MOST
IMPORTANT ONES
The unlikely center of the scandal, Anna Black is forced
to flee home as disaster looms. Her tomboy’s heart and impertinent tongue serve
her well when she meets the most brooding viscount ever to darken a drawing
room. Will Halifax, Viscount Grandville, has his reasons for pushing people
away, and when his tempestuous teenaged ward arrives on his doorstep, he
presses Anna to take on her care. As Anna begins to melt the Viscount’s frozen
heart, she knows the more she loves, the more she has to lose. For although
Will cares nothing for what makes Society titter, he has yet to see The
Beautiful One.
Emily Greenwood
worked for a number of years as a writer, crafting newsletters and fundraising
brochures, but she far prefers writing playful love stories set in Regency
England, and she thinks romance novels are the chocolate of literature. A
Golden Heart finalist, she lives in Maryland with her husband and two
daughters.
Connect with Emily Greenwood:
Excerpt from THE
BEAUTIFUL ONE by Emily Greenwood:
Rounding the edge of the wood at
the back of Stillwell, he was startled to see his ward standing about. She was
looking up at a tree in which, from the movement of its leaves and branches,
some large creature seemed to be thrashing. A crow?
As he drew nearer to the
oblivious Lizzie, he was almost certain he heard a woman’s voice coming from
among the leaves. Lizzie stepped closer to the tree and lifted her hands
upward, and he saw that on a thick branch perhaps six feet off the ground were
perched two feet in past-their-prime dark ankle boots, and above them he was
treated to a view of trim calves he could not regret. The surrounding leaves
and branches mostly obscured the rest of his recently hired governess. In the
instant before Lizzie became aware of Will, he saw that she held in her cupped
hands a fluffy white ball.
Lizzie turned and saw him, her
mouth forming into an “O” as a voice called from above, “Lizzie? I’m ready for
the owlet.”
“Er,” said Lizzie, looking at
him. In the clear afternoon light he noticed that her eyes were a different
color blue than Ginger’s had been. But the shape was Ginger’s, as were the
eyebrows. Not her fault, but he couldn’t go the route of compassion. It would
only muddy what had to be. He looked past her and lifted a hand to rub his
eyes.
“Miss Black,” he said, knowing he
could not avoid asking, “what on earth are you doing?”
There was a pause as she absorbed
his arrival and a shifting of the feet on the branch near his forehead as they
drew together, perhaps in an attempt at modesty.
“Ah, my lord,” she said from
above him. “Good afternoon. Lizzie and I are engaged in returning a fallen
owlet to its nest. It was her idea. She is very caring toward animals.”
He could feel Lizzie’s big blue
eyes on him though his own were still covered by his hand. He had no doubt as
to whose idea it had been to climb the tree. He hadn’t truly expected Anna
Black to be a typical sort of governess, had he?
“Come down at once.”
“If you will wait just a moment,
my lord,” she said breezily, “I shall be down directly. Lizzie, the owlet.”
Lizzie cleared her throat.
“Here.”
He tapped her on the shoulder
before she could lift her arms farther. “Give me that creature, please.”
She looked uncertain, but she
clearly didn’t want to displease him, and she handed over the motionless owl.
He took it carefully from her and did not return her tentative smile. He could
feel her eagerness for him to acknowledge her, but he let it flow past him.
The leaves and branches above
them shook as Anna Black crouched down and extended her hand for the animal.
Her bonnet, the same horrible blue one, had fallen on its strings around her
neck again, and her hair, apparently loosened by her climb, curled crazily
about her face as if she were some unkempt urchin, accentuating her pert nose
and reminding him of her jack-in-the-box appearance from the coach.
Her pink lips pressed outward at
the sight of him; doubtless she was annoyed by his arrival, but her expression
didn’t draw an answering wave of annoyance from him. Instead, her lips were
making him wonder, unaccountably, what it might feel like to be kissed all over
by pink butterflies.
“The owlet, please,” she fairly
ordered him.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Get down
this instant before you fall. I will return the owlet.”
“I am already positioned to do
so. If you will just give it to me, I can put it back and then receive your
displeasure properly on the ground.”
He grunted. Why did he keep
finding himself in out-of-his-control conversations with this maddening woman?
In his palm the owlet’s heart
beat with a rapid, stressed flutter. He reached up his hand, and she gently
took the animal and disappeared into the foliage.
From above came a few rustling
noises, then the angry screech of what had to be an adult owl and a yelp.
Fearing Miss Black would fall, he stepped forward to catch her, but at that
same moment she jumped neatly down, so that she landed right in front of him.
He grabbed her arms, a reflex to
steady her. She didn’t need his help, but their eyes locked, and for a moment
he read vulnerability there before it was replaced with the hard glint of
independence. She smelled like sunshine and crushed leaves, and he felt the slim
softness of her arms and his body’s yearning to hug her close.
She stepped away from him. It had
all happened in the space of a few moments.
But as he watched her brush some
leaves from her skirts with her head down, that vulnerability he’d glimpsed
tugged at him. Who was this woman? Where had she come from? She was clearly
educated and intelligent, and though she was too forthright and she dressed
terribly, she was not rough, merely unusual.
That
life-on-the-edge-of-propriety quality he’d observed in her the night before had
suggested that she’d known some hardship, or that she had some burden she might
trade for money. And yet today, in the company of his ward, she looked at ease,
even if her eyes seemed to be hiding something.
3 copies of The Beautiful One by Emily Greenwood
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