
Written by: Julie Johnstone
Let's pretend for a moment that a rake, aka a womanizer, is a leopard. A leopard and men, who are rakes, are actually alike in several ways. They are opportunistic hunters who adapt to whatever environment you throw them in. Leopards and rakes have notorious abilities for being stealthy. Also, the leopard consumes virtually any animal it can hunt down and catch, much like a rake will seduce any woman he can convince.
Yet though leopards and rakes do indeed seem to have many things in common there is one way they are distinctly different. I bet everyone knows the saying a leopard can't change its spots. This links back to the notion that a person cannot change their basic nature.
Not true! Just ask any lover of romance in which the premise is that a man can be reformed. And there is no higher cause to spur a man to change than love. Just ask Andrew Whitton, Earl of Hardwick who just happens to be my hero in my newly released novella
The Redemption of a Dissolute Earl.
I stand firm in my belief that a woman cannot change a man, but a woman can induce a man to
want to change. That's exactly what my heroine Charlotte Milne did for my hero Drew.
Here is a little blurb:
The day Andrew Whitton, Earl of Hardwick chooses his fortune
over the woman he loves, Drew discovers that money makes for a cold bed partner. Now, no matter how far he runs, the memory of
his betrayal haunts him, and there’s not enough liquor to dull the past or
diminish his disgust. * Charlotte Milne
trusted in happily ever after until her knight
turned out to be wearing rusty armor.
Drew, the scoundrel, seduced her, though she very much enjoyed the
seduction by the man she’s loved since childhood. Left scandalously ruined, Char flees her home
intent upon forgetting Drew and proving her worth. * Separated by disloyalty and pain, each struggle to bury the
memories of the other until a mandatory summons from the Duke of Danby sets
them on a path of collision to
Danby
Castle. With the tides of irrevocable change rising,
Drew must find a way to show Char that even the most selfish of rakes can be
redeemed by love before the woman of his heart becomes the wife of
another.
I first wrote Drew and Char's story in
Gift of Seduction which was part of an anthology called
A Summons From Yorkshire (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 1). Drew and Char were so much fun for me to write, but I always wished I could develop their story more, so this last month I did! I took their short novella of 38 pages and expanded it to a longer novella of 84 pages. During the expansion, I not only more fully developed Drew and Char's story, but I flushed out the character of Drew's exasperating and mysterious cousin, Nicholas Beckford, Lord Edgeworth, who henceforth in my mind shall be known as
Edgy-thanks to one of my humorous critique partners.
It has been such a thrill to be able to expand on Drew and Charlotte's story and lay the foundation for Edgeworth's story, which if the stars align as I hope will be published in the later part of this year.
I hope if you loved Drew and Char's story, or if you loved Edgeworth or perhaps you loved them all, you will check out
The Redemption of A Dissolute Earl and continue the romance with me.
Now for a little taste of the story:
None of Drew’s
heated fantasies of Char this past year had included her demanding in a most
unfriendly tone that he let her go. Which was precisely why he was sure he was
not having another one of his lovely daydreams about her. Her angry tone―along
with the fact that some man was staring fiercely at him―increased Drew’s
confidence he wasn’t dreaming. He’d had some debauched fantasies in his life,
but never had a man been in any of them.
Drew curled his
fingers tighter around Char’s warm, silky arms. Normally, he prided himself in
the ability to remember precise details of situations and people, but even his
memory was not so superb that he’d been able to perfectly conjure up the way
his heart jerked when she was near, the way her smell of freesia immediately
relaxed him, or the way her burning skin warmed him to his soul.
This was
definitely real. Char was here, in the flesh, an answer to a prayer he’d been
too ashamed―too afraid―to plead. He breathed deeply of her and pulled her close.
“Char,” he
whispered in her ear, the soft curls of her fiery red hair tickling his nose.
“Let me go, you
drunken imbecile.” Char’s slippered foot ground down on his toe in a manner
that certainly did not say, “I forgive you.”
Let her go?
Ha, ha, and bloody ha. He’d sooner cut
off his hand than let her go a second time. Fate had finally decided to crown
him the golden son again, and he was not about to argue with fate. Though his
mind was a bit fuzzy from the copious amounts of liquor he’d consumed to withstand
the choppy boat journey from France and―if he was being honest, which from time
to time he managed to be with himself―to forget the flaming-haired temptress
glaring at him, he was determined to embrace this gift and immediately set
things right.
In the spirit of
embracing the offering, he pulled Char tighter, wincing when she tried to
squirm away from him. Fate may have given him a gift, but he suspected a hearty
payment of groveling was due before he could claim his prize. “I see you’ve not
forgotten or forgiven.”
“Surely you jest?”
Char’s perfectly kissable red lips turned down into a frown.
His groin pulsed
to painful awareness of the woman he held so close. He cleared his throat. “I
was a weak, damnable ass.”
She jerked one arm
free and then the other. “At least we agree on that.” She was good at deftly
maneuvering out of his grasp, but she was no match for him. He smiled the
roguish smile he knew she once loved as he tapped his fingers, now twined
securely around her waist. “You’re fast, but as usual, I’m faster.”
The line that had
served to send them both into bales of laughter in the past, elicited a deeper
frown from Char. Perhaps reminding her of how he had always managed to capture
her and undress her before she could stop her laughter and protest was not one
of his wisest decisions. “I’m sorry,” he hurriedly supplied. By God he was. His heart throbbed with
just how damnably sorry he was.
“You’re precisely twelve months too late."
I would love to know if you believe love can really reform a man!
Have a great day!