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About Loving Lady Lazuli
Only one man in England can identify her. Unfortunately he’s living next door.
Ten years ago sixteen year old Sapphire, the greatest jewel thief England has ever known, ruined Lord Devorlane Hawley’s life. Now she’s dead and buried, all the respectable widow, Cassidy Armstrong, wants is the chance to prove who she really is.
But not only does her new neighbor believe he knows that exactly, he’s hell-bent on revenge. All he needs is the actual proof. So when he asks her to choose between being his mistress, or dangling on the end of a rope, only Sapphire can decide…
What’s left for a woman with nowhere left to go, but to stay exactly where she is?
And hope, that when it comes to neighbors, Devorlane Hawley won’t prove to be the one from hell.
“So, why don’t you damn well learn to be one then and spare us good—”
“Unfortunately, as the wife of a servant of the realm, in this time of crisis, that has not been possible.”
There. She’d said it. Now she would wait for the expected reaction.
Lord Koorecroft’s eyes bulged. “But I had it from Tilda you was a widow.”
And still would be having it, had Gil not gone and turned up last night—which was why Cass felt her jaw stiffen in a ghastly parody of the smile she attempted to give.
“Wait…good madam, are you saying—”
Cass squeezed back into the dark interior of the carriage. Lord Koorecroft’s jaw had dropped open. This was over if she did not press the advantage but this was the perfect opportunity to do so. To seize it though and truly make it hers as she had failed conspicuously to so far, she needed to seem a little more discreet than she was perhaps being, sitting in a carriage at a tavern door. To look, in a street bustling with afternoon shoppers and traders unloading goods from carts, a little more dignified, put upon, by the ungallant Lord Hawley. To seem driven by his vile peeping Tom persecution into behaving in ways she would normally shrink from, gallant little woman that she was.
“Yes. In—in the service of my country, there have been sacrifices. That was but one.”
As he worked his mouth open and shut, Lord Koorecroft seemed astonished.
About the Author
Shehanne Moore writes gritty, witty, historical romance, set wherever takes her fancy. What hasn’t she worked at while pursuing her dream of becoming a published author? Shehanne still lives in Scotland, with her husband Mr Shey. She has two daughters. When not writing intriguing historical romance, where goals and desires of sassy, unconventional heroines and ruthless men, mean worlds collide, she plays the odd musical instrument and loves what in any other country, would not be defined, as hill-walking.
Her second book featuring a hottie scottie, His Judas Bride was recently released and featured previously on this blog.