Read with: iBooks for iPad
Genre: Historical Romance
Hero: Felix Rivendale
Heroine: Louisa Cantwell
Date of Publication: November 5, 2013
Started On: November 19, 2013
Finished On: November 21, 2013
His eyes met hers again. “Let me give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
I believe the above is something every woman dreams of hearing from the man she has the most avid crush on say to her. Or one would think unless it comes from the mouth of Felix Rivendale, the Marquess of Wrenworth known as The Ideal Gentleman, who is determined not to ever fall in love or give any woman the chance to make him vulnerable like he’d been all throughout his childhood.
Louisa Cantwell is equally determined that she’d get a marriage proposal from a man who’d be able to give her exactly what she wants. The daughter of a fortune hunter with no dowry of her own and no ravishing looks to boast of either, Louisa knows exactly what she has to offer to a husband of her choosing. With her sights set on two men she thinks she can ‘handle’, it comes as a shock to her system when sheer unadulterated lust uncoils inside of her when she lays eyes on the most gorgeous of men, Felix Rivendale.
A passing glance is what a marriage seeking innocent like Louisa would’ve warranted from Felix if not for the intrigue that she stirs inside of him. Felix knows that Louisa is hardly what she presents herself to be to the rest of the ton, just like himself, who has managed to and continues to fool everyone on what he is.
Intrigue turns into lust, and Felix tells himself that it is both combined that makes Louisa the worthy adversary that she is, who occupies a lot of his mind, too much perhaps for his liking. The layer of suspicion that always underlies her gaze whenever she sets her sights on Felix together with just how much she resists the pull between them makes him feel more wicked and the rush that it gives something decadent, to be savored for a man who thinks nothing can move him.
Felix continues to be able to fool himself until his wedding night which leaves him stark ‘naked’ without that ruthless control of his which comes tumbling down after the weeks and weeks of foreplay that had readied both of them to its culminating event. Though Louisa knows that falling in love with the one man she shouldn’t fall for is the pits, her unforgettable wedding night gives her that little ray of hope that Felix ruthlessly and effectively crushes right in front of her.
What followed turned out to be so so good in so many different ways. Let me rephrase that, the whole book turned out to be absolutely fantastic in so many ways. I wholeheartedly adored Felix; what’s there not to be adored in a man who is absolutely clueless when it comes to the yearning of his heart, a man who learns the errors of his ways and goes about doing absolutely everything in his power to make it right even if it might mean victory may not be in sight ever?
Louisa was just as adorable, a woman who matches, understands and loves Felix for who he is, and that in my opinion made her the most worthy of Felix’s absolute love, adoration and trust. The Luckiest Lady in London has got the humor, the class and the wit that makes it one of the best historical romances of this year. Sherry Thomas certainly knows what she’s doing and it shows in every single historical romance of hers that I’ve read to date.
This romance has so much heat to it that I felt my whole body warm up from the inside out every single time Louisa and Felix entered the scene. Sherry Thomas has a definite knack for creating sexual tension unlike any other, and dear sweet lord, does she deliver on so many occasions throughout the story, not explicit in nature, but still tantalizing and delicious enough to make me sigh in utmost satisfaction and make my toes curl inward and out every single time.
The only thing that I had even the slightest contention with was the ending. Being the masochist that I am, I guess I wanted just a bit more angst. And perhaps the ending was quite fitting and in line with the story that unfolded if I were to think about it from a different perspective. Needless to say, Sherry Thomas held me completely enthralled and in the story’s grip throughout which is no mean feat if you ask me. And I’m certainly looking forward to see whether Sherry Thomas is going to gives us the story of Lady Tremaine, who happened to be one of Felix’s mistresses, a most intriguing woman whom I say has definitely got a tale to tell.
Most definitely recommended for fans of sensuous historical romances and of course fans of Sherry Thomas. This is a must not miss!
Final Verdict: Off the charts sexual tension, sensuality & prose that only Sherry Thomas can pull off. A definite winner!
All at once she lifted her gaze—she might as well get it over with. She was presented with a head of thick black hair and an aristocratic profile. Then, as if sensing her attention, he turned to her.
A pox on everyone who had ever told her that The Ideal Gentleman was handsome. He was not handsome—he was extravagantly gorgeous. One look into his serene yet hypnotic green eyes, and all the romantic yearnings she had never before experienced struck her at once, like a bullet to the heart.
“A shame,” he replied softly. “I know the earl’s sons very well. We’d have met much sooner had you been acquainted with them.”
She was staring down into her plate, but at his tone, which made her feel strange things, she could not help turning her face, looking into his eyes for the first time since she saw him across the drawing room, before the start of dinner.
Instantly a fierce heat swept over her. Had she thought that there was nothing erotic in the attention he directed her way? That must have been a different lifetime altogether. For this gaze of his made her think of . . . skin. Flesh. And, God help her, unnatural acts.
“Have you missed me?”
He didn’t ask such questions. Or at least, he didn’t ask such questions when the answers mattered.
Her left hand closed into a fist. “Of course I have missed you.”
The floor stopped wobbling. He breathed again.
He could see it, too, now. Except he saw it even more perversely. His guests would not be in the house, but on the grounds for the bonfire party that always marked the last night of his summertime hospitality. Most would remain near the manor, but some would venture farther afield and almost stumble upon them, hidden in the shadows, still fully clothed, but with her skirts pushed up above her waist, and him hilt-deep inside her.
His lips never leaving hers, he touched her in that secret place. She moaned; she writhed; she kissed him with a desperate fervor. Then suddenly she was crying out, her body tensing.
A heartbeat later he was deep inside her, filling her with his essence, convulsing with a pleasure that turned him inside out.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice was hoarse, nothing like how he usually sounded.
And his eyes were tightly shut. Dimly he remembered that he’d meant to look his fill of her as he brought her to one trembling peak after another. But the sensations of her person were all he could handle; the sight of it would undo him altogether.
“I never want you to stop,” she whispered, kissing his ear as she spoke, jolting him with another surge of lust. “Never.”
The pleasure of her—he was mindless with it. He invaded her again and again, her whimpers of pleasure a fire in his blood. Her name escaped his throat; he could not stop telling her how exquisite she was and how much he craved her.
When her body tightened voluptuously around his cock, he lost any and all control he might have still possessed. And gave himself up to the most explosive pleasure he had ever known.
She wrapped her legs around his waist. “You make me willing to do anything with you—and for you.”
Her flattery did not go to waste. The next second he was inside her again, hot and huge. She pulled him in for a kiss, and did not let him go until her pleasure was winding tighter and tighter and she was struggling to breathe.
It was like the sky falling.
Beyond, the stars.
He had no recollection of either shoving aside her skirts or freeing himself from the encumbrance of his trousers. The next thing he knew was a desperate upward plunge as he entered her—and the gasps that echoed between them.
The ferocity of her lips, the avarice of her hands, the sheer, agonizing scorch of her person. He didn’t know how he remembered to clamp a palm over her mouth—perhaps only when he heard someone calling, from no more than fifteen feet away, “Quick. The fireworks are about to start.”
Their own fireworks ignited first. He barely protested before surrendering to the demonic pleasures of her body clenching and shuddering about his.
But she did not want to lose control alone—that path led directly back to the pit of despair. “Come in deeper. Are you in me as deep as you want to be?”
Now they were tumbling off the edge together; now his control was as shattered as hers. And now she finally closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the surge of pleasure.
And by his harshly uttered words in her ear, as he gripped her close: “I can never be in you deep enough. Never.”
She undid his trousers. Her lips followed her hands, her tongue swirling about him in scalding, indecent ways. His hips flexed involuntarily, even as despair swamped him. She took him deep into her mouth; his grunt of pleasure echoed against the walls.
“I love the size of you,” she declared, “the texture of you, the taste of you.”
And the rest of me?
He shut his eyes tight against the pleasure, against the pain, against the possibility of betraying all the yearning in his soul.
The next second, her skirts were shoved up, her bustle knocked aside, her drawers pushed down not only without ceremony, but with hardly even any acknowledgment that they were ever there.
And then he was inside her, hard and thick.
It was the most incredible, most delicious sensation, like being pounded by a runaway train. The force of his thrusts flattened her. It nearly lifted her off the floor. With one hand on her abdomen, he pulled her toward him, so that he came in farther, deeper, harder.