Tag / Anne Stuart

by mvbookreviewer

Review: Breathless by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookBreathless
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: The House of Rohan, #3
Publisher: Mira
Hero: Lucien de Malheur
Heroine: Miranda Rohan
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: January 1, 2010
Started On: March 1, 2014
Finished On: March 2, 2014

Reading an Anne Stuart is like infusing an addictive drug into your system; one novel is never enough to satisfy your hunger for all those spots that Anne Stuart seems to hit with every single one of her books. After finishing Reckless, I found myself driven by the need to pick up the third book Breathless, the book which apparently sports the most villainous of hero in the House or Rohan series. 

Breathless is the story of Lady Miranda Rohan, daughter of Adrian and Charlotte from Reckless. Miranda is 21 and contemplating on resigning herself to the sort of life that is expected of a lady from society, but she is determined to have at least one night of fun and flirtation where no one would know any better. But what was supposed to be a night of harmless fun, the memories of which she would treasure for the rest of her life, turns out to be the stuff nightmares are made of as Miranda is ruined thoroughly and completely. Becoming an outcast of society gives Miranda the freedom to live a life of her choosing and even though being rebuffed in polite society day in and day out gets tiresome, Miranda is nothing else if not determined not to let that get her spirits down.

Lucien de Malheur, Earl of Rochdal, more famously knows as The Scorpion is a man whose need and hunger for revenge on the Rohan family knows no limits. With Miranda as the pawn of his revenge, Lucien is determined that he would enact the justice deserved, even if it means Lucien himself would have to carry out the deed. Patient planning for a period of two years brings him in touch with the lady in question and even then Lucien cannot help the flare of attraction and want that burgeons to life inside of him from the very first encounter.

But Lucien is not a man to forget the path he has set on, even if it means destroying the one thing in his life that brings lightness into his otherwise dark and tortured soul. Miranda knows better than to fight a losing game. However, that doesn’t mean that she would make the course of revenge any easier for Lucien to enact. Miranda is determined to make the best of whatever situation it is that Lucien throws her way, except when it comes to the dark, alluring and forbidden hunger that rages to life inside of her whenever Lucien puts his hands on her. The things he makes her want and feel should be outlawed and leaves Miranda reeling from the impact of it all, and little does she know that even The Scorpion himself is not immune to the blazing passion that rules their bodies whenever they touch each other with carnal intent.

While everyone made Lucien out to be the irredeemable villainous hero of the likes Anne Stuart hasn’t written before, I found him to be dark and a bit more ruthless and tortured than the ilk of heroes encountered in this series thus far. I believe the ICE series features heroes more ruthless than Lucien, but that doesn’t mean reading Lucien’s story is a walk in the park by any means. I stayed up till the wee hours of the night to get to the ending because Lucien’s notoriety demanded nothing less, the ice encasing his heart and soul not seeming to thaw even by the last couple of chapters of the book.

While Lucien doesn’t bare himself and his soul even towards the end, his intense possessiveness when it comes to Miranda is evident if you look at the subtle clues he leaves behind with every encounter that takes place between them. I guess my dissatisfaction arose from the fact that the cause for revenge seemed a baseless one at most, one that seemed to rule Lucien’s nonexistent emotions, something I somehow failed to understand given his character. Nevertheless, his back story and every little tidbit to do with him was riveting in a way that only Anne Stuart can make it so.

While I am still undecided about Lucien though of course I’m veering towards loving him wholeheartedly, I flat out adored Miranda. I think the story worked given the dark nature of the hero only because Miranda turned out to be someone whose nature didnt’t allow her to go into a pissing contest with the hero to see who could outwit whom. Rather, Miranda in her own way does try and outsmart Lucien but there never was the feeling of animosity on her part while she went about doing what she did, which practically made the story for me!

And like every book in the House of Rohan series, Breathless too came with a secondary romance in its midst, one that was charming in its own sense. Though I would have loved to see where their romance would lead them, I guess I would have to satisfy myself with letting my own imagination carry me away, which is mostly what happens with the lack of epilogues that is a characteristic common to most Anne Stuart novels.

If you don’t like dark heroes, you might not find Lucien worthy of love and redemption. But if you love your bad boys really bad, look no further. Recommended for fans of Anne Stuart.

Final Verdict: Lucien is every tortured and ruthless hero breathed to life!

Favorite Quotes

She froze, not certain what she should do. This was ridiculous, it was bizarre, it was shocking. She couldn’t scream, and she didn’t want to fight. He slowly seduced her with his tongue, sliding it against hers with a steady, sinuous rhythm that she felt in her breasts, the pit of her stomach, between her legs. It was a kiss that caught her soul, wrapped it up and stole it away from her, and when he finally lifted his head she was breathless. And so was he.

“Please,” she gasped out, and she heard his damnable chuckle. But then it didn’t matter, for his mouth latched onto her other breast, and her back arched as he drew her into his mouth, his tongue dancing across the pebbled nub, as he sucked at her, hard. His fingers slid lower, and she felt a tiny explosion rocket through her, making her jerk against his restraining hand.

He hoisted her higher, using both arms to support her under her thighs, bracing her against the wood paneling behind her bare back, and he began to move.
She let out a strangled cry, dropping her face onto his shoulder, letting her hands slide down his heavily scarred back, clinging tightly. He no longer seemed to mind, he was too intent on the sinuous movement of his hips, thrusting in, withdrawing as her body clung to him, then moving in deeper still, and each time she cried out, in blind, helpless pleasure.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | ARe | Kobo | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Reckless by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookReckless
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: The House of Rohan, #2
Publisher: Mira
Hero: Adrian Alistair de Giverney Rohan
Heroine: Charlotte Spenser
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: September 1, 2010
Started On: February 26, 2014
Finished On: March 2, 2014

Reckless by Anne Stuart is book number two in the delectable House of Rohan series. Just like the ICE series that grabbed me hook, line and sinker, the House of Rohan series too has wormed its way into my heart and its characters practically embedded themselves deep into my soul. There is no escaping the mastery that Anne Stuart weaves with every single story she writes, and even her lackluster ones continue to enthrall me in a way few authors have the power to.

Reckless tells the story of the son of Francis and Elinor from the first book Ruthless. While Viscount Rohan i.e. Adrian is known for his indulging ways and debauchery, I would say he is not in the league of the likes of his father when all is said and done. Adrian is a rebel, one who refuses to do what is required of him and settle down like his mother wants him to. Adrian hardly believes that the sort of love that his father and mother share could be found for the likes of him. However, that doesn’t stop him from pursuing the delight Miss Charlotte Spenser, the 30 year old spinster presents to his senses, even when it makes him act in ways that is totally foreign to someone like him.

Charlotte knows what little she has to offer to any man, much less a man of Adrian’s caliber and pedigree. But that doesn’t stop her from wanting him, wanting his kisses on her mouth, his hands on her body and his reckless abandonment to match hers whenever they are together. Charlotte keeps telling herself that a man like Viscount Rohan could never find a plain thing like her interesting on any level, but his relentless pursuit of her to seek a pleasure too powerful to deny sends all her senses reeling and turns her safe and staid world upside down.

I would say Reckless features a story that could actually be interpreted as quite sweet compared to the rest of the novels in the series. More than the darkness that prevails the soul of Adrian, it is the evil that surrounds him that puts the edge of your seat factor to this novel, the fact that one of those closest to Adrian is actually the one who wants to take away his life and destroy the very things that he holds dear to his heart.

Accompanying the story of the fiery and sensual love affair that develops between the highly experienced Adrian and the virginal Charlotte, is the secondary romance of Evangelina, dowager countess of Whitmore, and the fascination that she develops for a Reverend Simon Pagett. Elinor’s character is one that proved to be completely riveting. Her ‘role’ in pushing Charlotte into Adrian’s arms when she had wanted just the exact opposite to happen, her past that mires her disdain towards the opposite sex and how hard she tries to prove to people otherwise, and the oh so delicious temptation to her heart, body and soul that Simon presents was an edge to Reckless that made it all that much more powerful to me. I was equally enamored by the two stories that unfolded, both entwining along the way, lending a deliciousness and depth to Reckless that makes it my favorite novel from the series up till now.

Reckless is a story that flows smoothly, the banter between both characters in the leading and secondary romances highlighting just how much the sarcastic wit that is included into Anne Stuart novels speaks to my heart. And in fact it does, sarcasm when rightly done, it speaks to my soul like poetry and at times reveals a lot more than the character thinks themselves to be revealing. And I couldn’t have asked for more in that regard in this novel. The only thing that disappointed me, just a teeny bit, was the culmination of Elinor and Simon’s love story; I would have loved to see just a tad more of their attainment of happily ever after towards the end.

I would say Reckless is a romance for everyone who loves historical romances. Even if you haven’t read book 1, there is no need to worry. This one would read like a charm as a standalone. But, the tidbits about Adrian’s parents that are intermingled into the story along the way certainly put a smile on my face and is one you would miss out on if you weren’t to read book 1. And yes, prepare yourselves for a deluge of quotes with this one. I just couldn’t help myself.

Delightfully recommended.

Final Verdict: Reckless and decadent abandonment guaranteed with at the turn of each page!

Favorite Quotes

He lifted his head again. “Open your mouth for me.”
Her eyes flew open again. “Why?”
It was the first word she’d spoken in quite a while, but her voice was husky and raw as if she’d been screaming.
“Because I want to kiss you that way.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You need to let me—”
He covered her mouth again before she could say the fateful words, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth so he could taste her fully.

And he wanted more. He’d told himself that acceptance was enough, but he’d been wrong. He wanted, needed participation.
“Kiss me back,” he whispered, his own voice hoarse.
She started to shake her head, but he caught her chin in one strong hand, holding her still. “Kiss me back,” he repeated in a rough voice.
Her eyes were huge. In the darkness her rich red hair looked black, and she looked up at him beseechingly. Don’t ask me to let you go, he thought.
“I don’t…know how.”

He stretched, slowly, luxuriantly, like a sleepy cat. A tall, beautiful, elegant, sleepy cat. “You really have no idea what you’re turning down. I’m accounted to be one of the most accomplished lovers in society. No woman has ever left my bed unsatisfied, no woman has ever refused to return for more.”
“Then why don’t you get one of them in here?”
“Because I want you.”
That silenced her. The four simple words were devastating, both to body and soul.

No, she didn’t love him. She didn’t even know him, and his reputation was disreputable. But for some reason, sane, sensible, practical Charlotte Spenser had dreamed about the lost and beautiful viscount and his elegant hands, his bewitching mouth. And he was offering her all that beauty, and the lost soul that hid behind it.
Even in the darkness she could see his smile widen, the glitter of satisfaction in his bright, brilliant eyes. “Come to bed, Charlotte Spenser,” he said softly, his voice a soft, impossible invitation.
And she did.

Sanity was overrated, his cousin had said. She had to agree, because this was madness, and she wanted it. For a brief moment in time Adrian Rohan belonged to her, and nothing could ever take that away from her.
“Open your eyes, Charlotte.” His voice was rough, and she did so, expecting to see smug satisfaction on his face.
Instead he looked dark, tortured, his blue eyes black in the shadows.

“What are you doing?” she gasped as she clutched his shoulders, the white linen loose in her fingers.
“You want the pretty words, or the truth?” he whispered, leaning forward to brush his mouth against hers. “You’re being tupped, shagged, screwed—made love to.” Each phrase was punctuated with a thrust, and he was as breathless as she was. “In fact, Charlotte, you’re being fucked. It’s about this—” he thrust hard “—and this.” Another thrust and she could feel her nipples harden in the warm night air, feel the strange heat in the pit of her stomach begin to build and burn.

He reached down, caught his erect penis in his hand and guided it to her, then thrust, a little too hard, a little too fast, but she took it with only a faint cry. She was wet and sleek and welcoming, and he moved his head, dropping it down on her shoulder as he tried to control his breathing, his fierce need. He wanted to slam into her until he spewed, he was famished, greedy, ready to explode.

She was lost, defeated. Everything ached. Not that he’d been too rough. They’d made love gently, fiercely, with tenderness and with anger. She was bruised from his hard grip, he was raked by her nails, but the only thing he’d been brutal with was her heart.

It was astonishing. It was full-mouthed, seething with lust and abandon, and for a moment she froze. She’d been kissed like that before, and she knew all the tricks of a measured response. But those clever tricks evaporated, and she closed her eyes, sinking, sinking. He kissed her with a fierce hunger that shook her to her bones, a deep, carnal kiss that was more sexual than anything she’d done in her entire life.

He lifted his mouth for a brief moment, and in the darkness of the unlit carriage she could see the glitter of his eyes. “Open your mouth for me, Charlotte,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting hours to kiss you and I’m running out of patience.”
Her shock was enough that she did as he told her, and his kiss was full and deep, a possessive hunger she felt vibrating through her body.

And she’d said yes. He didn’t bother to hide his astonishment. Though he could…ahem…rise to the occasion. “I beg your pardon? Was that agreement I hear? How delightfully refreshing. I thought you decided to regrow your hymen and be the same prissy, starched-up female you were before I put my wicked hands on you.”

“You’re quite surprisingly resilient, Miss Spenser. I would have expected you to go into a languishing decline after my rough treatment of you.”
“Was that rough?” she asked innocently. “It perhaps lacked a bit of finesse, but you managed well enough.”
He wanted to laugh, he wanted to kiss her. “I didn’t really consider you deserved my best effort, since you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.”
“Indeed. I would hope that wasn’t your best effort. I would be sadly disappointed if society considered that to be masterful.”

“Turn around, Charlotte.”
“W-why?”
“Because I want to unlace your dress.”
“Is that strictly necessary?”
He laughed against her throat. “Yes, it’s strictly necessary. I want to see you naked. I want to lick every inch of your body. Turn around.”

He moved forward, took the hem of the chemise and whipped it over her head with one smooth movement. And a second later, the drawstring to her drawers was loosened, and they fell to her feet, and she was wearing nothing at all but her stockings.
“Oh, God,” he said, a curse, a supplication, a prayer. He pushed her up against the door, just behind her, lifted her by her legs and thrust inside her, hard.

It seemed to last forever, his rigid outpouring that seemed to scald her very heart, her shivering, clenching, mindless release, and all she could think was more, more, more, and then suddenly it was enough, and they collapsed together onto the narrow, dusty bed.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | BookDepo | Kobo | ARe | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Hidden Honor by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookhiddenhonor
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: MIRA
Hero: Peter de Montselm
Heroine: Elizabeth of Bredon
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: August 1, 2004
Started On: February 7, 2014
Finished On: February 11, 2014

“… he was a man who embraced pain as a means to salvation …”

Sometimes I wonder what it is that I am going to do when I run out of books by Anne Stuart to fall back on when I run into that “dry spot” in my reading where nothing seems to please me, except for the ruthless brand of heroes that only Anne Stuart seems to be able to get away with publishing.

Hidden Honor is going to be a difficult novel to review without giving away spoilers. As the title denotes, there are hidden elements to the story that makes it the enticing read it is. Hidden Honor tells the story of 17 year old Elizabeth who has made up her mind that her future lies at the Shrine of Saint Anne where she is going to devote her life to serving God. Life has taught Elizabeth to be totally unimpressed by what men and their kind have to offer and she can’t wait to leave home and embrace the future that awaits her.

Tall, skinny and red haired with pale skin to match, Elizabeth has lived her whole life believing herself to hold no qualities that would entice any man, much less the Prince of England to take notice of her. If only she didn’t have to travel with him to her destination, him seeking penance for all the vile acts some of which had ended in deaths if rumors about him were to be believed. But the minute Elizabeth meets the Prince, its as if a different woman buds to life inside of her, a woman who wants to touch, to seek, be held and do all those things with a man that Elizabeth had never dared to even dream of before.

Peter is a man who has a tormented soul that seeks penance and atonement for the sins that he has committed in the past. The temptation that someone like Elizabeth offers is something at first that he cannot accept and something he finds that he cannot resist either, no matter however much he tries. And when murder and mayhem comes seeking the small procession making its way towards the Shrine of Saint Anne, Peter finds himself in a position that makes it impossible for both him and Elizabeth to resist the fire that burns hotter and brighter with each passing moment in each others company.

Going hand in hand with Elizabeth and Peter’s story is a secondary romance that blooms into life that gives the story a sweet edge to it and a respite from the whirlwind of emotions that Elizabeth and Peter’s love gives the reader. Peter is the quintessential Anne Stuart hero, albeit a bit toned down from her most ruthless version of heroes to be found in her ICE series. I loved Peter; of course its hard not to fall in love with the lean, lethal and uber hot heroes that only Anne Stuart can create. A tad ruthless and a whole lot of reluctant to have anything to do with Elizabeth apart from protecting her is what Peter is all about and that made for a delicious combination.

Elizabeth made for a good match for Peter. A bit naive when it comes to the affairs between men and women, Elizabeth is worldly in almost every other aspect of life having had to look out for herself while growing up. Her desire to belong to the convent stems from her need to belong, something that had sorely lacked in her life up till that point. The minute that Peter comes into her life however, she begins to question her lifelong dream of joining the convent, a life that looks more and more unsuited for someone of her temperament.

The only thing more that I wished for when all was said and done was, you guessed right, an epilogue that would have let me sigh and moon over Peter and Elizabeth just a little while longer. Recommended!

Final Verdict: With sizzling sexual tension, Anne Stuart delivers a scrumptious read worthy of your time!

Favorite Quotes

She tried to buck, but his strong hands held her captive. She tried to push at his shoulders but she had no strength. She could only grip the blanket beneath her once more as her legs curled up and her head fell back and her body exploded.

She tried to kick him again, and he had no choice but to pin her against the tree with his entire body. Making her fully aware of the state of his arousal.
She looked up at him mid-spate, shocked and suddenly stopped fighting him. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Sweet scold,” he whispered. “My foul-tempered angel, I’ll never get my fill of you. But I have no choice—I have to take you back there. And the more I touch you, the harder it gets.”

He couldn’t help it. He shoved the robe she was wearing aside, pulled his up and lifted her, bracing her against the tree as he filled her with one deep thrust.
She came immediately, tightening around him with a hoarse cry, putting her mouth against his, kissing him as she rode him.

She surged up, then sank down on him, riding him, riding the wave of pleasure, and when the peak came she sank her teeth into his shoulder and bit him, hard, through the heavy fabric.
The sharp pain was the finishing touch, and he let go, pressing her against the rough bark of the tree, filling her with his seed, shocked at the way her body clung to his, drawing him in deeper, jealous of every bit of him.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | BookDepo | Kobo | ARe |  iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: The Devil’s Waltz by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookthedevilswaltz
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: MIRA
Hero: Christian Richard Benedict de Crecy Montcalm
Heroine: Honorable Miss Annelise Kempton
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: February 1, 2006
Started On: February 5, 2014
Finished On: February 7, 2014

The Devil’s Waltz by Anne Stuart is a romance that offers a bit of a toned down version of the usual variety of heroes that Anne Stuart creates. For someone who pretty much adores the version of anti-heroes as some might label the heroes in Stuart’s books, the toned down version wasn’t any less appealing to me, perhaps because the story still carries the essential elements necessary to draw all sorts of emotions from the reader.

Honorable Miss Annelise Kempton is almost 30 years old and unmarried. Rendered penniless with the death of her father, Annelise moves from one household to another, offering her services for bed and board because to work for a living for someone of her standing was practically frowned upon. Her latest mission so to say lands her in the household of that of Josiah Chippah, a self-made man who wants the marriage of his beautiful daughter to achieve his goal of belonging to elite of the society.

Annelise’s charge is hellbent on marrying Christian Montcalm, the worst of rakes one could come across. Penniless to the point of being destitute, Christian has his sights set on the woman who would bring all the wealth that he requires to put his life back in order, not that he cares much about the sort of thing. The only obstacle in his path seems to be the infuriating woman that is Annelise, a woman who stirs his interest in a way it hasn’t been stirred in a long time, or ever.

Annelise takes her responsibility towards her charge seriously, but the things Christian makes her think of and want to do should not be the thoughts that should run through a woman who has accepted the fact that she would forever be a spinster and that no man, especially a man as beautiful as Christian would want her. With each drugging kiss that Christian lays on her, Annelise’s resolve to stay away from his charming self dissolves at her feet until she is practically laid bare with her naked longing for a man who would never be suitable for a woman like her.

Interwoven into the tale of heat, passion and love between Annelise and Christian lies the story of a nefarious villain who is willing to do everything in his power to get what he wants, even if it is by committing murder in cold blood. The Devil’s Waltz has one of the most beautiful epilogues that I have come across in an Anne Stuart novel. Like it always happens to me in epilogues in Stuart’s books, I had to read and re-read the epilogue until I was satisfied enough to close my eyes and go to sleep, even though it was the wee hours of the morning by then.

The Devil’s Waltz reaffirms my belief that reformed rakes make the best of husbands. And just like the heroes of the caliber that only Stuart can create, Christian had all those essential bits that makes a hero swoon worthy minus the dark edge that seems to be off putting to certain readers of romance. If you have never read an Anne Stuart and would love to read one, I suggest you go with this one. It definitely has the sort of hero that you can get down with, and a heroine you would equally adore. Not to mention the witty banter that is an integral part of the story which made me laugh at several places throughout the read. Recommended!

Final Verdict: Decadent and delicious!

Favorite Quotes

He was sound asleep, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the blessed fire blazing, an empty bottle of wine by his side. He hadn’t been shaved recently, and he looked rumpled, dissolute and beautiful. Like a fallen angel. She moved to stand in front of him and pointed the pistol directly at his heart.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he murmured, and then he opened his extraordinary eyes. “It’s always unwise to shoot the man you’re in love with.”

She reached behind his head, caught his long hair in her hand, and offered her cheek to him, closing her eyes.
He laughed. “I don’t think so, my love.” And he swept her into his arms, pulling her tight against his strong body, and put his hungry mouth on hers.
He tasted like wine and hot sweet sin.

She wasn’t expecting it, wasn’t prepared for it. This was no lazy seduction, no charming flirtation. This was carnal, deep and shattering, and before she realized it he’d pushed her up against the wall, holding her there as he kissed her, and the feeling was so powerful she felt as if she might explode. His hand covered her breast, barely restrained by the antique chemise, and she could feel her nipples tighten against him, feel a wash of something totally foreign and good sweep over her body, until she was both hot and cold, trembling, wanting to weep, wanting to slap him, wanting to rip the white lace from her body and place his mouth where his hand was.

He put his mouth close to hers, just a moment away from kissing her, and her impossibly fast heartbeat raced ever stronger against his fingers.
“Shall I ruin you, dragon?” he whispered, aching for her. “Or shall I send you on your way?”

He tugged at his loosely tied cravat, sending it sailing. He ripped at his own buttons, opening his shirt and reaching for his breeches, when he stopped. “One last warning, love. This is no fairy-tale business, no pretty dream. It’s real. It’s dark and messy and for you, painful. In the beginning, at least. You’ll end up hating me.”
“Don’t worry about it, Christian,” she said. “I already hate you.”

“Chérie, I am going to die if I don’t finish,” he whispered in a hoarse groan. And the words, as if by instinct, were in French.
“Then finish me,” she whispered in the same language.

Her body convulsed and she tried to cry out, but nothing came from her throat but a strangled cry. She was out of control, lost, gone somewhere that she hadn’t known existed, and the only thing with her was Christian, his arms around her, shaking as hard as she was as he spilled himself deep inside her.

He was dressed, or at least halfway there. He had his breeches on, and his shirt was half-buttoned. He must have finally run out of things to do with her, she thought dazedly. So why, when she looked at him, did her body still shiver in longing?

Purchase Links: Amazon | BookDepo | B&N | iTunes | ARe

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookaroseatmidnight
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Avon
Hero: Nicholas Blackthorne
Heroine: Citizeness Ghislaine de Lorgny
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: February 28, 1993
Started On: January 18, 2014
Finished On: January 23, 2014

I picked up A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart in my attempt to make my way slowly back to earth, after riding the high of reading Heart of Obsidian by Nalini Singh. I tend to need some time to come to terms with the fact that I might not be able to come across a book that would give me such a high in the near future and most of the time is struck with the need to read a book from an author that would certainly entertain me if nothing else. And this historical set in the 1800’s did just that, in the end leaving me a bit contemplative too, which is something that tends to happen often after I finish reading an Anne Stuart romance.

Ghislaine de Lorgny’s mission in life for the past couple of years has been a simple one. She has been biding her time until she meets the man who would die at her hands, the man who turned his back on her and never looked back, the man who had broken her heart and let her be crushed in every single way left thereafter until the fire for revenge and need for vengeance had become what had kept Ghislaine going. Opportunity comes calling when the man himself comes to the home in which Ghislaine resides in, giving her the perfect chance to exact her revenge even if it means she’d have to leave the life that she’d made for herself in the past couple of years.

Nicholas Blackthorne is a man who possesses the blackest of reputations. With no scruples seemingly whatsoever, Nicholas lives his life as he pleases, the bleakness inside of his soul hidden by the depth of depravity that he shows to the rest of the world. When Ghislaine comes into his life once again, Nicholas does the unpredictable thing and carries her off with him, seemingly to teach her a lesson that she would never forget, all the while refusing to acknowledge just how much of his black soul is already possessed by the woman in question.

A Rose at Midnight might not be an easy read for some people, but then that is one reason why I love novels by Anne Stuart. There is a sensuality to her ruthless heroes that is indescribable, the way in which she can redeem even the most unlikely heroes one that always would keep me going back for more. Nicholas seemed like a hero who would never find his footing as someone who would redeem himself enough to win the affections of Ghislaine, but then Anne Stuart’s characters are hardly that straightforward and Nicholas was definitely no exception.

The life that Ghislaine had undergone during the uprising in France, the way she had lost her family and everything dear to her, not to mention how she had been defiled in the most vile manner while hatred had borne in her heart for the man who had been in the next room served to be reason enough for the rough and tough journey of the heart that Ghislaine takes towards love and peace of her soul. Acceptance of her feelings for the complex man that Nicholas is takes a lot of doing and I understood every single bit of turmoil, hatred, anger and deep sense of betrayal that she felt in the process. I would say that it would take a woman of immense courage to let go and embrace love, a love so fierce and powerful that even the darkness that had invaded her soul a long time back was no match for the sheer potency of it all.

I also loved the secondary romance tucked into this dark and gritty story which somehow seemed to lighten up the pages a bit. I loved Lady Ellen’s inquisitive, forward and at times clueless nature when it comes to the love of her life aka Honorable Sir Antony Wilton-Greening. Their courtship which takes place in their pursuit of Ghislaine and Nicholas seemed to make the darker emotions this novel seemed to generate easier to bear and I have to say I loved every single minute of their journey towards a beautiful and well deserved happily ever after.

Time and yet again, Anne Stuart astounds me with her creativity (even when I should know better by now), her characters and the way she unabashedly writes the best alpha heroes out there one that earns her the highest of ranks in my list of favorite authors. And every single time, with very few exceptions of course, I have always ended each book with the deepest sigh from within my soul, knowing that I couldn’t have asked for more!

Final Verdict: A Rose at Midnight is magnificent, the intricacy of this multi-layered tale is not to be missed!

Favorite Quotes

She could have withstood a brutal assault, his mouth grinding against her. She could have withstood a rough rape of her mouth, and she was fully prepared to disappear into that quiet place in her mind where no one could reach her.
But she was unprepared for the softness of his lips against hers. The damnable gentleness as he brushed his mouth against hers, feathering it lightly, so lightly that it was a caress. And she hadn’t been caressed in more than a decade.

“Just a kiss, love,” he said, putting his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to meet his mouth. She held very still as his lips tasted hers, but he could feel the faint tremor that ran through her small, strong body, and he wondered idly what caused it. Hatred? Or desire?

Her body was stiff at first, and then slowly grew more pliant, her hips tilting up against his with the light encouragement of his hand at the small of her back, her perfect breasts through the thin layers of clothing pressing against his chest. He could hear the lazy buzz of bees in the background, the distant song of birds, and the wind rustled through the leaves overhead as he kissed her, until she was shaking, until he was shaking, until he wanted to push her down in the sweet-smelling grass and tear away her clothes and his, until he wanted to find comfort in the sweet danger of her body.

“It will be rape,” she said in a wild fury.
“No,” he said. “It won’t.”
She survived the fierce possession of his kiss. She survived his overpowering strength, as he pulled her to the bed, pushing her down and covering her flailing limbs with his strong body. She survived the touch of his hands on her breasts, the feel of his arousal against her stomach. But she couldn’t survive the sudden gentleness, the slow start of heat in her belly, the warmth in her breasts, the damnable yearning that blossomed in her heart.

She felt as if she were floating, lost in the feel of his lips on hers, the shocking intimacy of his tongue in her mouth, more intimate than anything she’d endured during her enforced couplings. She wanted to dissolve, to lose herself in the seductive wonder of his mouth possessing hers. She wanted it never to stop, to last forever in a billowing cloud of passion without end.

He’d told her she was beautiful, his precious child, his angel in a dark night. He’d told her she was his soul, his life and breath, and the heat of his desire.
And, God help him, he’d told her the worst thing of all. He’d told her that he loved her. And even now, he wasn’t quite sure if he’d lied.

“Don’t fight it, my angel,” he whispered, his voice a mockery. “I’m not going to finish with you until you come.”
She whimpered then, and hated herself for doing so. He covered her mouth with his, and like a fool she kissed him back, as his hair fell around them both, curtaining them in darkness. He reached down and caught her hips, pulling her up against him, and then his body went rigid in her arms, and she felt the flooding of a great warmth, one that for the first time was answered with her own warmth.

“You have two choices, Ghislaine. You must either kill me or love me. Make your decision.”
He watched her grip tighten on the knife, and he wondered whether this time she would do it.
He reached her, standing in front of her, his tom, bloodstained shirt barely covering his chest, and waited.
“Oh, my God,” she said in a broken voice. And she dropped the knife with a noisy clatter, and flung herself into his arms.

He caught her shoulders, pulling her up close against him, and this time he kissed her, hard and deep, a kiss she answered. Her dress ripped as he tore it off her; his breeches ripped as she tore them open. She touched him, felt the silken strength of him, and he groaned, deep in his throat, pushing against her hands.

He stared at her in mute frustration. “All right, I love you, damn it,” he snapped. “Does that satisfy you?”
She considered it. “It’s a start. But you’ll definitely need more practice. You haven’t learned the proper intonation. You need—” He silenced her, efficiently and swiftly, his mouth covering hers.
When he lifted his head they were both breathless. “I love you,” he said again, this time a little more softly.
She smiled up at him. “Much better,” she whispered.

Purchase Links: Amazon

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Shadow Lover by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookshadowloveras
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Suspense
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Bell Bridge Books
Hero: Alexander MacDowell
Heroine: Carolyn Smith
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: December 31, 2013
Started On: January 14, 2014
Finished On: January 14, 2014

It is always a downright delight to find a novel that you have missed out on from an absolute favorite author of yours. Shadow Lover by Anne Stuart was first published in the year of 1999 and somehow during my voracious hunt through Anne Stuart’s contemporary romantic suspense novels, I seem to have missed out on reading this one. It was when I saw this novel up for grabs on Netgalley that made me realize my grievous “error” in missing out on this. But then again, I can’t complain too much because discovering veritable treasures like this one is the reason why I love reading so much!

Shadow Lover delivers exactly the sort of novel that only Anne Stuart can. With enough twists and turns to the story to make your head spin and the way she brings the story to life with her quintessential bad boy heroes that readers like myself can never get enough of, Shadow Lover brings to life the very reason why Anne Stuart continues to amaze and wow me, practically with every single book I have read of hers to date.

Almost eighteen years to the day he had left never to be heard from since, Alexander MacDowell returns home, seemingly to ease the passage for his mother, Sally’s imminent death. It is only Carolyn Smith, the only MacDowell who isn’t essentially a MacDowell by birth that seems to harbor suspicions about the man claiming to be Alex. And of course Carolyn has good enough reason to be suspicious when she had witnessed Alex’s murder with her very own eyes that fateful night when everything had gone so awfully awry.

In a family laden with secrets, Caroline seems to be the only one who remains unaffected, the only one who seems to have a strong sense of morality and conscience. Caroline’s only wish is to be completely free of the MacDowell’s family once Sally dies, the woman who had unofficially adopted her into the family and loved her as much as she is capable of loving and showing affection towards another.

While Caroline’s sense of mistrust runs deep when it comes to the charming Alex who bears an uncanny resemblance to the Alex that she remembers and dreams of, she can’t help but be fascinated with all that he makes her feel, the feelings of violent passions that he rouses in her far more disturbing to her peace of mind than anything else. Caroline is determined that she would protect Sally at any cost, even if it means holding her tongue from lashing out with the truth which would certainly have dire consequences.

It is only a master like Anne Stuart that can pull off a novel of mystery as intriguing as this one, the seemingly innocent enough plot filled with so many unforeseeable twists and turns that the reader is taken along on a journey that certainly gets the brain cells revving. And then there is the heat factor involved when it comes to Anne Stuart. The way she brings her hero and heroine alive in essentially every single one of her novels, the mistrust and at times hatred born out of the volatile feelings that they harbor towards one another and later on the spillage of the fierce passion serves to be one of the best aspects to her stories.

I can definitely go on and on about the elements that worked for me in the story to make it one that has earned its rightful place in my “Favorites” shelf, but you’ve got to read it yourself to determine just how enthralling a tale that Anne Stuart can weave. There is just something about her heroes with their lean and strong bodies and of course slender hands of veritable strength that just gets my blood pumping. And I would give up just about anything to meet one of  these heroes in real life.

Final Verdict: Anne Stuart fills every single page with her exquisite mastery. Most highly and definitely recommended.

Favorite Quotes

Her hands had somehow ended up around his neck, her fingers entwined in his long hair. She closed her eyes—she didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to acknowledge the foolishness of what she was doing. She kissed him, clumsily, and he made a low, growling noise in the back of his throat, one of sheer animal arousal.
The sound made her wet.
He must have known. He slid his hands down and caught her hips, lifting her almost effortlessly, pulling her legs around his waist as he started toward the bed.

“You sure you want me to stop?”
She stared up at him, unable to say a word. She was hot, trembling, shaking with a need more powerful than any she’d ever known. He touched her lip, and his fingers had blood on them. “You bit your lip,” he said. “Bite mine.” And he covered her mouth with his.

“Slowly, Carolyn,” he whispered, pushing her back against the pillows. “No need to rush, we have all the time in the world.”
“No,” she said in a strangled voice. She opened her eyes, and she could see the firelight flickering over their bodies, dark, pagan, magical. “Don’t make me . . . beg.”
He slid his hands up her legs, pulling them apart. “Oh, angel, I don’t want you to beg,” he whispered. “I want to be the one to beg you.”

Her breath was coming in strangled gasps, and she could feel sweat and tears pour down her face. She gripped his shoulders so tightly her hands were numb, and everything was centered around his inexorable invasion, like nothing she had ever felt before.
It was too much, more than she could stand, and she tried to pull away, but he caught her hips with his hands, pinning her against the mattress. “Take me, Carolyn,” he whispered. “You know you can. Don’t be afraid of me. Take me.”

“I thought you weren’t going to touch me until I asked you?” she said in a furious whisper.
“Ask me.” He pushed the shirt from her shoulders, then reached for the waistband of her jeans.
“Go to hell,” she said, and kicked him in the shins.
He caught her face in his hands, holding it still, tilting her mouth up to his. “Ask me,” he said again, his mouth hovering inches from hers.
She stopped struggling. Her face was wet with tears, she looked lost and broken and so damned sweet.
“For what?” she whispered.
“For anything you want.”

“You ran away the last time,” he whispered against her mouth. “Are you going to run away again?”
“No.”
“Even though I’m a cheat and a liar and a con man and a thief?”
“Are you?”
“Do you care?”
“No,” she said in a fierce little voice. “I want you. I don’t care who you are, I don’t care what you are—none of it matters. I need you.”

“I’m afraid,” she said in a very quiet voice.
“I know you are. And I can’t figure out why. We’ve already done it once and you didn’t suffer any Victorian trauma. You know I won’t force you, you know I won’t hurt you. What’s the problem?”
She stood very still. “I’m afraid I’ll fall in love with you.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. And then a faint, reluctant smile curved his mouth. “Well, you can’t say I haven’t been doing everything I can to keep that from happening.”

“I was in love with the real Alex.”
He could only hope she couldn’t see his reaction. “You were thirteen when he left,” he said roughly. “Thirteen-year-old girls don’t know anything about love. And he was a selfish, spoiled brat who didn’t care who he hurt.”
“I loved him.”
He wanted her to stop saying that. He wanted her to say it again.

He wanted her whether she wanted him or not, but he wasn’t going to make a move.
He didn’t need to. She crossed the room, and before he realized what she was planning to do she sank to her knees in front of him and took him in her mouth.

“Turn over,” he said. “I want you that way.”
He half expected her to object. She didn’t. She did what he wanted, and her strangled cry of pleasure when he pushed back inside her almost finished him.
He wanted, needed to make it last. To take her every way he could think of, and more, so there would be no more secrets between them, no more lies.

She was even tighter from this angle, and he tried to think of something else, to slow himself down, but he couldn’t, all he could think and feel and hear was Carolyn, the soft, desperate little cries she was making, the rich scent of sex in the air, the silky smoothness of her back, the deep, clenching tightness of her.
He reached between her legs and touched her, and she exploded, her scream no longer muffled, a sobbing cry of complete surrender and savage, ultimate pleasure.
And he gave himself up to it, filling her with everything he had left, pouring into her.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Never Trust a Pirate by Anne Stuart

Format: E-booknevertrustapirate
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Hero: Thomas Morgan (Luca)
Heroine: Madeleine Rose Russell
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: December 3, 2013
Started On: January 12, 2014
Finished On: January 12, 2014

Never Trust a Pirate by Anne Stuart is her second book in the Scandal at the House of Russell series. Scandal at the House of Russell is a series that centers around the three Russell sisters left destitute in the wake of the scandalous demise and death of their father, who the three daughters believe was framed and murdered. Having been thrust into a life of hardship with their riches stripped away, the series tells the story of each sister as they embark to find the truth, and finding love with the most unusual of men in the most unusual of circumstances. And Never Trust a Pirate tells the story of the middle of sister Madeleine Rose Russell aka Maddy.

Maddy finds herself taking up the task of seeking the truth behind their father’s demise by following a cryptic clue in a hastily scribbled note left by their father. The phrase “never trust a pirate” finds her seeking the position of a maid at Captain Thomas Morgan’s residence, willing to spy on the man Maddy believes to have played a hand in her father’s death. But things however go far from according to plan as Maddy makes up close and personal acquaintance with the man in question hours before she finds out that the seemingly old captain that she’d been thinking he would be turns out to be a man who fascinates her on levels beyond her understanding.

Thomas Morgan (Luca) is a man who belongs in the ocean, sailing the ships that he is supremely famous for commandeering and of course an immensely wealthy man who is rumored to have been a pirate once. Though restlessness hits him every now and then, Luca is determined to go down the road of domesticity, and is engaged to be married, when the most insufferable woman he had ever crossed paths with and he hasn’t been able to put out of his mind ever since he claimed those scorching kisses from her turns out to be the new maid at his residence.

Luca knows just like he knows that he isn’t who he claims to be that Maddy is not whom she is impersonating herself to be. And when he realizes who she exactly is, it doesn’t douse the fire that burns and rages inside of him to possess the woman who haunts his every waking thought from that first kiss onwards, rather it burns stronger than ever until Luca is driven to the point of madness. While Maddy tries to outwit Luca in a game that he is far more good at, an outside force that truly does not want the Russell sisters from ever finding out the truth sets out to silence their quest for the truth forever.

Never Trust a Pirate proved to be a fascinating tale in every single aspect. Luca or rather Luca is the type of hero that is unforgettable, long after you turn the very last page. Dangerous, wily and charming with a rough past, Luca is your proverbial bad boy hero come to life, the badness tampered down a bit to suite societal needs. But one look at his gorgeous frame you know that no other hero would ever claim the place he would forever hold in your heart. And best of all, Luca fits the type of hero that Anne Stuart is famous for; ruthless and dangerous, even when it comes to the heroine herself. Don’t get me wrong, what makes men like Luca so alluring is the fact that there are those seemingly small deviations from their behavioral norm that lets the reader witness just how affected he is by the heroine and Luca was definitely no exception to the rule.

Maddy proved to be someone equally interesting. Having never let herself grieve for all she had lost, Maddy holds all that anger and grief deep inside of her, ready to change everything, if nothing else by her sheer force of will and determination. And that is exactly how she embarks on her quest to uncover the truth til she sets her eyes on Luca and her world as she knows it comes tumbling down right in front of her. Inquisitive by nature, Maddy has a hard time playing the meek role required of a maid. And even knowing that Luca might be responsible or even partly so in terms of what had happened to her father, Maddy finds that the way she is drawn towards Luca doesn’t seem to abate, if anything it seems to grow in strength by the day.

The sexual tension was top notch and oh dear god what followed was more so, the dialog between Luca and Maddy witty and the other secondary characters in the story well developed to give a well rounded story that I finished within just one day, a rare occurrence for me of late when novels hardly seem to hold my fascination for that long. But like almost every single Anne Stuart I have read to date, the story seemed to call out to me until I had finished the very last chapter, and that too with an altogether too huge a smile on my face. I can’t wait to read the third book in this series that will hopefully conclude and give answers to the mystery surrounding the demise and death of their father.

Final Verdict: Carries all the trademarks of a classic Anne Stuart. Definitely recommended!

Favorite Quotes

He kissed her again, hard at first, as if imprinting his claim on her, and then more slowly, brushing his mouth against hers, softly, back and forth, and she knew her lips were trembling beneath his. Her words were her best weapon, but they were locked in her throat as she felt his tongue, his outrageous, shocking tongue intrude into her mouth and the sensations moved through her body like fire.

He pushed her fully back against the wall, both hands on her breasts now, and there was only a thin bit of cloth between them, a thin bit of cloth he pulled down, so that she felt the rough texture of his calloused hands on her sensitized skin and she let out a helpless moan of pleasure against his mouth. His knee was between her legs, and somehow she’d ended up straddling it, so that it was pushing up against that damp, most sensitive part of her, and she wanted… she wanted…

His voice was no more than a low, carnal whisper. “I could show you so much more. All you have to do is tell me your name.”
She wanted to. She wanted to do everything he asked of her, and more, just for the sweet, drugging pleasure. She opened her mouth to betray all her secrets, only to gasp in shock as he bent down and put his mouth on one hardened nipple. He made a soft growl as his mouth tugged at her, but it was nothing compared to the heat that flashed through her, and her fingers dug into his shoulders, savoring the exquisite sensation. More, she thought. Please, I need more.

“Speaking of which, what put her out. Dorrit use chloroform? That’s not his lay.”
“I hit her.”
Billy looked at him in astonishment. “Jayzus,” he said with a whistle. “You really must love her.”
Luca stalked away.

He pushed all the way in, and a spasm of pure delight tightened her body around him, and he seemed to swell inside her. “Hurry,” she whispered in clawing desperation, fighting for release.
“No. I want to savor this.” His answering thrusts, slow and steady, made her want to scream in frustration. But he couldn’t control her body, any more than she could, and he’d only thrust a half-dozen times before she climaxed, her body clenching down on his, her skin prickling in an endless contraction that left her breathless and panting.

When she fell back again, panting, he kissed her breathless mouth. “I can keep this up for hours.”
“Why?” she gasped.
His laugh touched strange places inside her. “Because there’s no where else I’d rather be. I want to stay inside you forever, I want to make you come so hard you can’t even think, I want to forget where I end and you begin. I want everything from you, Maddy Rose. Everything.”

Fuck. Such a dirty, nasty, erotic little word. That was what he was doing to her. And she wanted more.
His hands on her breasts set off another paroxysm of pleasure, and this time when he moved again he was faster, his breathing a little more shallow. And then, to her shock and despair, he pulled out of her completely.
She cried out, reaching for him, but he simply turned her onto her knees, pushing her hands down on the mattress, her face into the pillow, as he pushed inside her from behind.

Purchase Links: Amazon | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Ruthless by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookruthless
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: The House of Rohan, #1
Publisher: Mira
Hero: Francis Alistair St. Claire Dominic Charles Edward Rohan
Heroine: Elinor Harriman
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: August 1, 2010
Started On: December 24, 2013
Finished On: December 26, 2013

I stayed up till the wee hours of last night to finish the 1st book in The House of Rohan series by Anne Stuart. Stuart is famous for her ruthless brand of heroes that no author ever dares to write and Ruthless too features one of those delectable heroes, but I would say comparably toned down from the caliber of the heroes gracing her ICE series which is an absolute favorite of mine.

The House of Rohan is based in Paris in the 1700’s where Edward Rohan more famously known as “The King of Hell” for the sort of depravity that he thrives on meets the destitute Elinor Harriman who comes to his lair looking for her mother. Rohan is a man who conducts orgies of all kinds at his residence, the thrills which he used to get from holding such lascivious affairs at his residences now bordering on almost nothingness. When Elinor arrives, she makes Rohan sit up and take notice, and for the first time in a long while Rohan feels as if life runs through his veins rather than the dissatisfaction which had almost been on its way to taking up permanent residency in his life.

Elinor though has lived through a lot of hard times in her life is not prepared for the effect of Rohan on herself. Elinor who thinks herself above feeling anything remotely sexual finds herself oddly mesmerized even though she tries to strive for repulsed when it comes to Rohan. Rohan has no qualms about making a niche for himself in Elinor’s life whether she wants him to or not. And because Elinor would do anything to protect those she considers as hers, even if it means getting mixed up with the devil himself, she has no choice but to “agree” to the terms and conditions that are set by Rohan in his attempts to maintain the euphoria that he feels because she is in his life.

The House of Rohan is a series that has continually come up in my quest for more books to read by Anne Stuart. And it was only quite recently that I took the plunge and read one of her historical romances which convinced me to give these a go as well. From the skim reading that I did on a couple of reviews on this series, everyone seems to talk about just how depraved a man Rohan is. But I found him to be nothing extraordinary in that sense, perhaps because I was expecting a lot more than what was actually in the book where he is featured. I found myself enchanted by the man Rohan is, a complex man if ever there was one. Exiled from his own country and going through life from one pleasure gathering to another, Rohan might appear frivolous when he is exactly the opposite.

The endearing bit about his character is the other side of him that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world, the side of his he takes comfort from when things get to be too much for him to take. Rohan convinces himself that he feels nothing but a passing interest for the woman Elinor is and that the novelty would pass over soon enough. But each encounter between them pulls Rohan deeper into a web of wanting that he hasn’t felt for anyone ever, but Rohan is intent on experiencing the thrill of the chase as much as he can drag it on.

Elinor on the other hand, I had a problem with. Somehow, I just didn’t feel that she cared overly much about Rohan. She just never seemed to see through mostly the elaborate show that Rohan puts up, even when he behaves in a manner that is the complete antithesis of his character. Somehow I think Elinor was too caught up in aspects of her own life to really take notice of Rohan or perhaps it was her defense mechanism against a man whose enigmatic way with her makes her forget that when it comes to engaging in carnal pleasures, she is to remain cold and aloof.

As which is common occurrence when it comes to Anne Stuart, there wasn’t an epilogue tucked into the story but I managed to find the epilogue up on Anne’s website which more than made up for the lack of one in the story. I ended up reading the epilogue more than once with this silly grin on my face which is the end result of having read a book that made you lose sleep over it.

Recommended for fans of Anne Stuart and fans of historical romances.

Final Verdict: When it comes to ruthless heroes and complex plots, Stuart is the master of the game.

Favorite Quotes

“Your hands,” he said, startling her. “You’re quite ridiculously easy to read. You were wondering what I was going to go on about next. I’m quite fascinated by your hands.”
She immediately tucked her hands into her shawl, but he wasn’t deterred. “They don’t look particularly soft. Not the plump, white, useless hands most women have. You have long, beautiful fingers, narrow palms, and yet there’s strength in those hands. I rather think I want to feel them on my body.”

“Don’t…stop…” he groaned.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered. “I want you to finish in my body.”
His groan was powerful, and his need was great. Without another word he rolled over on top of her, shoving her shift up to her waist and pulling her legs apart, and she was just about to brace herself for the pain when he pushed inside her, hard, sliding deep into her with a smoothness that left her breathless, hungry.

He lifted his head, and then blew softly on her wet nipple. “I want to put my mouth everywhere on your body, poppet. I want to taste you all over. And then I want my cock to follow. I want to do things to you no one has ever dreamed of doing. I want to have you so completely that no one else has ever existed, only you and me.”

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: To Love a Dark Lord by Anne Stuart

Format: E-booktoloveadarklord
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Avon Books
Hero: James Michael Patrick
Heroine: Emma Mary Catherine Langolet
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: December 28, 1994
Started On: September 9, 2013
Finished On: September 10, 2013

So what happens when I finish an Anne Stuart novel and wonder what to read next? Like a junkie with an addict, I WANT the next fix from Anne Stuart which plagues me until I give in. I must be thankful for the fact that there are so many books by her that I have still yet to read. Though I have mostly focused on her contemporary romances to-date, that changed with Never Kiss A Rake that was published this year, that I reviewed previously. Since To Love A Dark Lord is a romance that is loved by many, I thought I would get my next dose of Anne Stuart by plunging into the first ever romance that Anne Stuart attempted to write featuring a dark hero.

James Michael Patrick, the Earl of Killoran is a man who is haunted by too many nightmares, that he has retreated into his own shell, a man who many thinks is beyond redemption or saving. James himself knows that he is as such and he does what he does for reasons that he alone understands. Though lately life has become one bore fest after another and little has provided amusement for him except for hiding his pain behind consumption of spirits, when James stumbles onto Emma who accidentally stabs her lustful uncle to death, life as James knows it changes. Taking the blame for her uncle’s death is something James does on a whim, for the mere amusement the deed brings him.

When Emma is rescued by the sinfully handsome man who doesn’t spare her a backward glance before striding out of her life just like he swooped in to save her from her imminent death, Emma doesn’t know what to do with all the freedom that beckons her after a life spent in enforced solitude from which it had felt that there would be no escape from. Coming to the understanding that her savior wants her to forget him gives her the blow necessary to take her fate into her own hands, which inevitably brings her into the hands of none other than James himself, this time rescuing her to his own intents and purpose to serve as the pawn that would draw out his long time enemy, to enact the revenge that he has been waiting for a long time.

Emma though an inexperienced virginal heroine makes for a swell character. Her gutsy determination in the face of everything that is totally alien to her is to be admired. The fact that Emma understands the pain that is buried deep inside of James was the one factor that had me falling head over heels in love with her. Emma, though she doesn’t know her place in James’s heart or life, nevertheless does everything she possibly can to be there for him, without asking for anything back from him in return.

James of course, turned out to be the type of hero that I absolutely love to read about. There is a certain elegance to the heroes that Anne Stuart creates, even with that coldness that resides inside of them, that aloofness that drives readers crazy to find that one redeemable aspect about him that serves to be the pivotal aspect of the story. And with James, her very first hero with dark elements certainly did not disappoint.

As many reviewers have already pointed out, there is such a wealth of pain inside of James that it is hard not to want to reach out to him and wrap him in your embrace so that you might absorb some of that pain into your own self. James might never wish to think of himself as the knight without all that shining armor who strides to Emma’s rescue time and yet again. But something about Emma calls to him on a baser level, something he fights with every fiber in his being to prevent himself from succumbing to the lure that she presents. If not for the fact that Emma understands all this and more when it comes to James, and is just as helplessly drawn to him as he is to her, James would not have managed to find the sort of love he finally does in Emma’s embrace.

When you read an Anne Stuart, you always tend to have this emotional whirlpool viciously rolling around inside of you. And that tends to expand with the kind of angst that only a dark hero can deliver and I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect read that balanced out the darkness, the angst and later on a love that held me enthralled and going back to read the epilogue tucked in at the end time and yet again. I don’t remember how many times I read the epilogue which was short, yet brought to light the life of James and Emma 9 years down the line. If the story hadn’t already been embedded deep into my heart, the epilogue certainly would have sealed the deal for me.

I would be remiss in my review if I were not to mention the secondary romance that takes place in To Love a Dark Lord. The romance that buds to life between the 23 year old Nathaniel Hepburn, a distant cousin of sorts of James whom he takes under his wings in order to teach him a thing or two about depravity, who ends up falling in love with the very unusual and extremely beautiful Lady Barbara Fitzhugh. Theirs was a romance that moved me to tears, Barbara’s story one that I wished I had gotten to read in a full length novel just dedicated to her and Nathan.

Recommended for those who love their heroes dark and a bit twisted. And definitely for fans of Anne Stuart.

Final Verdict: If you are fan of Anne Stuart, this is an absolute must-not-miss!

Favorite Quotes

The house was still and quiet. And somewhere, faintly overhead, he heard the sound of music. Emma was playing again, something soft and lilting and unexpectedly sad. A moment passed before he recognized it. It was an old Irish lullaby, one he’d heard from his nurse thirty years ago.
And James Michael Patrick, the fourth Earl of Killoran, the man without weakness, honor, or decency, closed his eyes in quiet desperation.

It wasn’t one kiss, it wasn’t twenty, it was a long series of unending kisses, leading one into another, so that she barely had time to begin to regain her sanity when he stripped it away once more. He kissed her eyelids, the side of her mouth, the beating pulse at the base of her neck. He kissed her nose and her chin, he bit her earlobe, and then he covered her mouth once more, kissing her with a devastating thoroughness that had her damp and trembling in his arms.

He kissed her temple, her cheekbone, her angular nose. And then in the shadowy night his mouth sought hers.
It was light and darkness, sin and forgiveness, hell and redemption. She put her arms around his waist, pulling him closer, closer still. She could feel the warmth of his strong back through the fine linen shirt; she could taste brandy on his mouth. His hand was between them, against her breast, and she hated the layers of cloth that separated them.

She started past him, and he kept his focus inward, thinking of nothing at all. He would have made it if her chemise hadn’t brushed against his hand. If she hadn’t paused one dangerous second too long.
He caught her, no longer caring what he was doing. She cupped his face, reaching up to kiss his mouth, and it was the last straw. He ripped at her clothes, ripped at his, a maddened beast, shoving her down on the hardwood floor, covering her with his strong body.

He reached down and caught her thighs, lifting them up around him. It was too late now. He’d fought it, and her, and now he was the one who had lost. He’d given in to a need so powerful it overwhelmed all others, and all he could do was revel in the feel of her hot, tight body around his, the furious pounding of her heart against his bare chest, her fingers digging into his back, scratching at him, tearing at him, as he thrust into her again and again, searching for a part of him he’d lost long, long ago.

He understood her choked, breathy little cry, so different from the studied sounds she usually made. He knew her restlessness, her heat, and her need. He knew how to love her. And when the first explosion hit her, it was so powerful, so unexpected, that she screamed, clutching at him, and his formidable control vanished, and he pushed deep, holding her, filling her, giving to her instead of taking.

He thought he could prolong it, but he was helpless against the tide of need that swept over him. He needed her, needed to take her in this bed, this house, this land. He needed to thrust deep and fill her with his seed. He needed to claim her, and claim his heritage. He’d fought it for too long.
He lifted himself above her, staring down at her as the bed rocked beneath his powerful, rhythmic thrusts. Her eyes were open as well, looking up at him, and then her eyes fluttered closed as her body convulsed around him, and he came as well, rigid in her arms, no longer fighting it, and her, and his own lonely heart.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Smashwords

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Never Kiss a Rake by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookNeverKissARake
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Scandal at the House of Russell, #1
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Hero: Adrian Bruton, Earl of Kilmartyn
Heroine: Bryony Arielle Josephine Russell
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: August 20, 2013
Started On: September 5, 2013
Finished On: September 9, 2013

Anne Stuart is on the list of my utmost favorite authors though I discovered her books a bit late in my reading life. The one reason I love her books is how unabashedly honest she is with her characters and she brings to the romance genre the darkest heroes that you would encounter that makes them that much harder to forget and move on from after you are done reading a tale from her.

Never Kiss a Rake is her latest release and my very first historical romance from her. Book 1 in the Scandal at the House of Russell series, this series is focused on the 3 sisters of the Russell household who suddenly find themselves destitute with nowhere to turn to when their father is killed. Bryony the eldest of the three is determined that she would get to the bottom of everything and erase the black name from her family name that would provide the opportunity for her sisters to marry and lead respectable lives.

To embark on the journey which would bring her to the truth, Bryony takes the position of housekeeping at the home of Adrian Bruton, the Earl of Kilmartyn. While secrets shroud him and the life he shares with his wife, Bryony is definitely not prepared for the way she yearns for the beautiful man that Adrian is. Bryony is shocked to say the least with the wanton desire that takes a hold of her and refuses to let go, until she succumbs with her heart, body and soul to the man who holds all her senses enthralled.

Adrian is a man who is bound by circumstance to the life he leads. While he doesn’t trust Bryony to be who she says she is, Adrian cannot help himself with the way he yearns for her and wants her to succumb to the desire that is a visceral part of the fragile relationship that forges between them. With a killer who lurks freely amidst them, counting the days until he can complete the path of revenge he has chosen which gives this romance the edge that it requires, Never Kiss a Rake though it doesn’t offer the usual darkness and depravity that is part of Anne Stuart novels, nevertheless proved to be an entertaining read that kept me up late into the night.

I loved Adrian. What’s not to love about an Irish hero whose good looks alone is enough to make a woman swoon from his utter beauty alone? And then there is the way he gets under Bryony’s skin, the way he slowly seduces her into giving into the explosive passion that bursts into life between them from day one. Adrian is not the dark type of hero that Anne Stuart usually creates, but he is the perfect fit for someone matter of fact and practical like Bryony who needs more than her fair share of beauty and love in her life. And that in my opinion is what makes this book a winner.

Recommended for fans of Anne Stuart and historical romances with a bit of suspense in the mix.

Final Verdict: Anne Stuart is a master in storytelling, whichever genre she chooses to write.

Favorite Quotes

Her breasts were hot, there was a tight feeling in her belly, and she wanted… she wanted… she couldn’t name what she wanted. She could only feel it.
And he was feeling it too, she knew it. That look was holding him captive as well, unable to move, staring down at her with fathomless emotion, need and doubt and surprise.

He moved closer, blotting out the fitful light, and she thought, now I am going to be kissed, really kissed, and she closed her eyes, preparing herself.
Instead, his mouth moved to her ear, and his teeth bit down on her earlobe. Instead of pain, warmth flooded her body, and her eyes flew open again. “Just so you know there are other, surprising places that can be almost as much fun as lips,” he whispered, before his mouth closed over hers.

Before she could say anything he kissed her again, no teasing this time, just a hungry demand, and she felt her body tremble with longing that she didn’t understand, could only feel. She wanted this man. She wanted to stay here, lie beneath him, have him push between her legs and take her as a man took a woman. It was wrong, it was selfish, and it didn’t matter.

Bryony tasted of cognac and salt tears and sweet, untutored lust. She tasted of the redemption he could never have, the fiery hell he was heading for.

She sucked in her breath. She could feel him everywhere, he possessed her, owned her, and she wanted to weep with the beauty of it. Because as she was his, he was hers, shaking in her arms, thrusting, a deliberate pace that began to grow faster.

He cursed, a low, guttural sex word, and twisted his hips against her, and the darkness hit, turning everything into a cataclysmic explosion that rocked every inch of her. She was barely aware that he’d pulled out of her, that warm wetness spread over her belly, and she would have cried out, but her voice was strangled in her throat, and then he covered her mouth with his, swallowing the last of her protest, the last of her passion, and she wanted him back inside her.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N

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