Series: Fallen Ladies #1
Genres: Historical Romance
Also in this series: The Untouchable Earl, Lord of Lies
Also by this author: The Untouchable Earl, Lord of Lies
"You should not have kissed me," she replied breathlessly."I do a lot of things I shouldn't. It does not mean I won't do them again."
Gently bred Emma Chadwick always assumed she'd live and die the daughter of a gentleman. But when her father's death reveals a world of staggering debt and dangerous moneylenders, she must risk her good name and put her talent for mathematics to use, taking a position as bookkeeper at London's most notorious gambling hell. Surrounded by vice and corruption on all sides, it is imperative no one discovers Emma's shameful secret or her reputation-and her life-will be ruined.
But Roderick Bentley, the hell's sinfully wealthy owner, awakens a hunger Emma cannot deny. Drawn deep into an underworld of high stakes gambling and reckless overindulgence, she soon discovers that in order to win the love of a ruthless scoundrel, she will have to play the game...and give in to the pleasure of falling from grace.
"An engaging and unusual historical romance. Beautifully sensual love scenes are woven into this intriguing romance."-Night Owl Romance, TOP PICK on Reckless Viscount
Fallen Ladies:Luck is No LadyNo More a LadyNo Kind of Lady
Luck is No Lady
If you have been following the blog, you know I only recently gave historical romance another shot. I used to really enjoy it. Then I felt like it got really predictable and prescriptive. So, I went years without reading HR then picked up The Rogue Not Taken by Sarah Maclean and loved it. So, when I saw Luck is No Lady, I jumped on it. London high society and woman who is good at math? Awesome. I love when heroines are in professions not typical for women (mechanics, footballers, etc) and I love heroines who are smart (not just street smart or clever, but genuinely SMART). Emma was an instantly likable character for me. Classic oldest child-her parents are dead and she has taken all on the responsibility, including making sure her younger sisters are taken care of and do not have to suffer the struggle she does. Roderick was more likable than I expected. Knowing he was a bit of a rogue, I was pleasantly surprised at his not-so-roguish behavior. It was quite refreshing actually. He wasn’t out destroying ladies honors and besmirching names. He also understood that even if you don’t like the ‘game’ of high society, you still had to play it.
Luck is no Lady reminded me that not all historical romances are about damsels in distress and fancy nobility. I can’t wait to read the next books in the series (I am assuming they will be about Emma’s sisters!).
- POV: 3rd
- Tears: No
- Trope: Secret Identity, Secret Relationship
- Triggers: None
- Cliffhanger: No (except I am dying to know more about what happened to Lily!)
- HEA: View Spoiler »Yes-actually one of my all time favorites!! The way Emma and Roderick finally get together is PERFECT! « Hide Spoiler
Q and A Roulette:
If you could only read one author for the rest of your life, who would it be?
This is such a difficult question. I think I’d have to say Jane Austen.
Amy Sandas’s love of romance began one summer when she stumbled across one of her mother’s Barbara Cartland books. Her affinity for writing began with sappy pre-teen poems and led to a Bachelor’s degree with an emphasis on Creative Writing from the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities. She lives with her husband and children near Milwaukee.
From Luck is no Lady:
This excerpt is from Emma and Roderick’s first meeting, an anonymous encounter behind the fall of a curtain. In return for promising not to discover her identity, he asks her to assist with his disheveled neckcloth.
Taking another step closer in order to comfortably reach up to his throat, she began to twist and fold the neckcloth into a style she had recreated many times before. Warmth emanated from the stranger and cool night air drifted around her. There was a solid strength to his body as he stood still and accommodating beneath her hands. The sound of his breath began to match the rhythm of her own and the light-headedness she had experienced earlier returned in a rush.
Her fingers fumbled through the familiar movements as what should have been a simple task became weighted with acute expectancy.
By the time she smoothed the edges of the cravat beneath his coat, Emma’s breath was tight and her pulse beat in a frantic rhythm. Craving distance and a safe return of her faculties, she shifted her weight to step back, but her retreat was brought to a halt when he lifted his hands to cup her face.
“One more thing,” he murmured. Then his mouth covered hers.
She had not yet lowered her hands, and they flattened against his chest as she tensed in shock. Her stomach went into a tizzy of uncontrollable flutters, and what remaining sensible thoughts she may have had were sent spiraling from her head.
He pressed his fingertips into the hollow at the base of her skull and propped his thumbs beneath her chin, holding her in place to accept the exquisite pressure of his lips. He took a step closer and his feet stirred the fall of her skirts as his body bumped gently against hers. Then he tilted his head and his mouth softened in unspoken entreaty, as if he were asking for something more.
Emma had never been kissed before, and as his mouth moved over hers, she found herself utterly unprepared for the sensations it invoked. She never could have anticipated the delicious heaviness invading her limbs or the tingling that rushed through her blood. When he pulled on her lips, as if trying to draw something from her, her body tightened deep inside with a yearning that came on so swiftly it startled her.
It finally recalled her to her senses—the inexplicable need that overtook all rational thought. Emma was not accustomed to such a complete destruction of mental acuity, and it frightened her.
She tensed the curve of her lower back. The resistance was small, but it was enough, and he lifted his head. Emma fought the urge to run her tongue over her lips. Though he had ended the kiss, he did not step back or release his hands from her face.
“Are you certain you wish to remain unknown to each other?” he whispered darkly. His voice felt like a caress. “We could continue this encounter in a more comfortable location. Somewhere just as private, lit by candlelight.”
“You should not have kissed me,” she replied breathlessly as her thoughts began to reorganize themselves and a raw panic seeped into her bones.
“I do a lot of things I shouldn’t. It does not mean I won’t do them again.”
Her alarm intensified at the thought of him kissing her again. She could not let that happen, not when his first kiss had been so unsettling. A second might be devastating.