Thank you for stopping by!! I am very happy to showcase the fabulous
Sophie Jordan and her new release-- All the Ways to Ruin a Rogue.
Read through the post with an excerpt from the book and then finish up
by entering the giveaway at the end.
GOOD LUCK and Happy Reading!! ~Kat
New York Times and USA
Today bestselling author Sophie Jordan continues her new series, The
Debutante Files, featuring debutantes on the hunt for Mr. Right.
First friends, then enemies...
Lady Aurelia hasn’t always hated Max, Viscount Camden, her brother’s best
friend. In fact, as a besotted girl, she thrived under his kind attention—sure
that he was the most noble and handsome man in the land. Until her young heart
discovered what manner of rogue he really was. Now, though she enjoys nothing
more than getting on his last nerve, she can’t deny Max drives her to
distraction—even if she tries to pretend otherwise.
Now something more...
Max cannot recall a time when Aurelia did not vex him. If she was not his
friend’s sister, he would stay far away from the infuriating vixen.
Unfortunately, they are always thrown together. At parties and family
gatherings…she is always there. Mocking him, tossing punch in his face, driving
him mad ... until one night, she goes too far and he retaliates in the only way
he can: with a kiss that changes everything.
Max knew it was Aurelia the instant she sat down at
the table. Or rather, the moment she plopped into the chair across from him.
The black gown she wore was so indecently tight she wasn’t capable of sinking
into her seat with any standard of grace. Her ridiculous disguise could not
hide her from him.
He
stilled, his entire body going rigid. The dress. Her. At this table. None of it was right or proper. Familiar ice
chugged through his veins at the unexpected sight of her here of all places.
The most illicit of clubs. Young ladies of privilege weren’t supposed to know
places like this even existed, much less step across the threshold. He
shouldn’t be surprised. Aurelia had never fit Society’s vaunted criteria for young
womanhood.
The
laughter and buzz of conversation faded to a dull growl around him as his gaze
tunneled through copious cigar smoke to peer at Aurelia. He tracked her every
curve, missing nothing. Not the absurd wig of golden hair piled atop her head.
Not the olive-hued skin. Nor the whiskey-warm eyes.
His
body reacted instantly. How could it not? He was a man in possession of healthy
appetites, and however much he did not care for the chit, she was thoroughly
beddable in that scandalous dress. He’d known she was voluptuous, but he had no
idea she had been hiding a courtesan’s body beneath her clothes these many
years. And that was what every man in this room thought as they devoured the
sight of her. That she was a whore for the taking. A quick glance around
confirmed that.
The
backside he had glimpsed before she sat down was well-rounded with generous
cheeks that would fill a man’s hands. He eyed the narrow waist that pooled into
flaring hips. His mouth dried. Her body was made for sex. No quick and gentle
mating that ladies with delicate sensibilities engaged in under the cover of
darkness. She would take everything a man could give and revel in it. All he could give. Rough and fast. Base and
primal. She wasn’t a fragile piece of crystal that would break beneath a hard
shag.
He
leaned back in his seat as though needing to insert additional space between
them. His hand slid beneath the table to adjust his cock were it had grown
achingly hard. He huffed out a breath, furious that she should make him feel
this way. He did not like her. He’d
sooner take a viper into his bed than this chit that had caused him such grief.
No one called him Cockless Camden
anymore. At least not to his face, but it took years to put an end to that.
Even now he knew the slur was still whispered behind his back. People thought
it. The repercussions of that caricature followed him still. Every time he got
naked with a woman, he read the surprise in her eyes. The relief.
“Gentlemen,”
she greeted, her gaze fixing on him. The taunting light in the brown depths made
his skin tighten with familiar battle-readiness. “Room for one more?”
“Always
room for so beautiful a lady,” the man to Max’s left replied as he shuffled
cards.
What the bloody hell was she doing here?
He stared hard at her, letting his gaze convey his outrage.
She
smiled prettily, her plump lips curving beneath her scarlet domino. The domino
was a joke. As was the wig. Anyone who was more than a passing acquaintance
with Aurelia would recognize her. Which only made her ten kinds of a fool for
even stepping foot in Sodom. Even right now her cousin, Declan, was upstairs.
“Thank
you.” She treated each man at the table to her smile. “What is the wager,
gentlemen?”
Everything
in him clenched hard. He wanted to wrench her up from the table, drag her from
the club and stuff her into a carriage for home. Only that would call more
attention than necessary. Not that she didn’t deserve a little public shaming,
God knew, he had suffered enough of that over the years. Thanks to her.
Pummeling anyone who dared call him Cockless Camden to his face and shagging
half the women in the country had gone a long way in proving his virility and
dismissing the moniker.
But if Aurelia’s presence here
went public it would ruin her. He couldn’t do that to Will or Declan. Instead,
he traced the rim of his glass as he stared at her, hoping she grasped the full
extent of his fury. Hoping she was afraid.
“We
play for high stakes.” He raked her with his eyes. “Too high for you, I am
certain.”
He
knew the dig would wound. He knew because he knew of her brother’s dwindling
funds. Her pin money could not be very prodigious.
She
sniffed and pulled back her shoulders. An action that only pushed out those
magnificent breasts. Everything in him twisted tight as the edge of an areola,
dusky-dark where it met her olive-hued skin, came into view. Reaching for his
glass he downed it and signaled for another one.
And
he wasn’t the only one getting an eyeful. Every man at the table was looking,
salivating at the sight of her flesh. Scowling, he took in each of their hungry
stares before returning his gaze to her.
“High
stakes don’t frighten me,” she announced.
“They
should,” he growled and then added beneath his breath. “Daft girl.”
She
heard him. Or read his lips. The hands that rest on the top of the table curled
into fists. “What’s amiss? Afraid you will lose?”
“One
night upstairs,” the man to his left blurted, boldly tossing down the gauntlet.
“Winner claims one night with you in an upstairs chamber,” he clarified as
though his meaning wasn’t evident. The bastard then winked at Aurelia.
Max
arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to flee. Now she would surely see. Now she
would understand that she had gotten in over her head. He watched, waiting for
her to come to her senses and excuse herself.
Her
brown eyes locked on his as she asked, “And if I win?”
He
slid his hands beneath the table and gripped his thighs, his fingers digging
deep as he leaned forward. Mad chit. She was not doing this. He shook his head once at her. Hard.
“Whatever
you want. Name your prize,” one of the other men offered, leering at her chest
as he did.
Her
gaze roamed over each man at the table, assessing. Four in all, counting him.
She thought she could best all of them? She was playing with fire and she knew
it.
“I’ll
have…” Aurelia paused, her gaze resting on him again, considering. “Your
clothes.”
The
man beside him choked. “Our clothes?”
She
nodded, smiling pertly.
“You’ll
have each of us strip down to our bare arse right here?” another demanded.
“You
cannot think to win. You will lose,”
Max hissed, letting that sink in her fool head. She would lose and be at the
mercy of one of them. In that moment, he did not think she would prefer to be
subject to him. Not as furious as he was.
She
shrugged one shoulder. It looked as smooth as marble, and he imagined touching
it, stroking the flesh and discovering if it was as soft as it appeared. One of
the men at this table could very well win that privilege if he let her do this.
Daft female. He should just walk away.
Let one of them have her. It would serve her right, playing with fire.
And
yet she was Will’s sister. He couldn’t leave her to these wolves.
“I’m
in,” he announced, hating to utter the words even as he had no choice. He would
take the wager and he would win and save her from this mess.
He
admitted there would be some satisfaction in beating her. She thought she could
win. For no other reason would she have agreed to these terms. He would relish
besting her.
The
other men quickly chimed in their own accord.
“Let
us begin then, gentlemen.” Still wearing that insufferable smile, she nodded
for the game to commence with a magnanimous wave of her hand.
The
cards were dealt quickly and efficiently. He watched everyone’s faces closely
as they played, reading for the slightest reaction.
He
trained his features into a mask of impassivity. No expression. Even when the
first two men tossed down their cards in defeat. Rising, they stripped off
their clothes with grumbles.
A
crowd gathered, jeering at their pale, naked bodies on display. Aurelia dipped
her gaze to her cards, but not before he read the amusement glimmering there.
She was enjoying herself. Bloody fool. She hadn’t an inkling of the predicament
she was in.
“Having
a good time?” he bit out.
“Adequate,”
she retorted, treating him to a chilly smile.
Shaking
his head, he tightened his focus on the cards he held, placing one on the table
and drawing a new one with nary a change in expression. There were just three
of them left now, Aurelia, himself, and the man to his left.
The stranger knew what he was
about. Not so surprising, since the wager had been his idea. He was confident
and hard to read. Max’s gut churned uneasily, suspecting that he and Aurelia
had perhaps been lulled into a swindle by a sharp. He glanced down at his hand,
hoping for her sake that it was enough.
He
watched the stranger draw fresh cards and then lift his gaze to Aurelia. “Well,
my love? What have you?”
She toyed with the edges of her
cards, bending them slightly as she was not supposed to do. Not that any man at
this table would correct her. No, she was by far too mesmerizing in her
shocking gown, her breasts on full display.
Max’s
fingers clenched around his cards, the knuckles whitening. “Be quick about it.
We haven’t all night.”
Her
gaze shot to him. “I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from more diverting sport?”
“You’ll
be free to go about your diversions soon enough,” the stranger smoothly
inserted, locking gazes with Max. “Once the lady and I adjourn to one of Mrs.
Bancroft’s chambers upstairs.”
“Awfully
confident, aren’t you?” he asked, the silky edge to his voice deceptively calm.
The
stranger smiled widely, revealing yellowed, furry teeth. “Our friend here is
impatient, Madame. Shall we put him out of his misery and let him face his
defeat?”
“After
you,” Aurelia insisted.
“Why
not?” Furry Teeth shrugged. “Let us be done with it then. And on to more
pleasant pursuits.”
Apprehension
finally flickered within her eyes. The emotion was visible for just a moment
through the eyeholes of her scarlet domino. Now she feared she might have
overstepped, did she? When it might be too late. Fool. Did she expect him to
save her? Blast her, he should leave her to hang herself. Let the brute take
her upstairs.
Furry
Teeth fanned his cards out before him with flourish. Applause erupted around
them. Max stifled a curse and flung his cards down on the table. He’d lost.
Furry
Teeth chuckled and wagged a finger at Max. “You, my friend, best undress
yourself whilst I take this little morsel upstairs and collect my winnings.”
Rising, he extended a hand toward Aurelia. “Come, sweetings. A wager is a
wager, after all.”
Aurelia
lifted her bowed head just as Max started to rise. Not to undress himself but
to stop that filth from touching her. Wretched girl or not, he would not let
this vermin take her. He could not. His friendship with her kin demanded he
protect her. Even if that meant reneging on a bet.
“Do
you not wish to see my cards?” She queried softly.
All
eyes turned to the table as she spread her cards in an arc. Surprised gasps
rippled all around them.
She’d
won.
Furry
Teeth let out an oath.
She
leaned back in her chair in the manner of a victorious queen and leveled her
gaze on him. “A wager is a wager,” she echoed. “I believe I’ll collect my
winnings now.”
Furry
Teeth began stripping off his clothes in angry movements, revealing his pale
skinny limbs. Entirely naked, he quickly sank back down in his chair and sat
there sulking much like the other two men who had already shed their clothes.
Aurelia
lifted an eyebrow at him. “Well, my lord? Do you not honor your bets?”
“Honor?”
He chuckled low and deep, the sound raw and prickly in his throat. “That is not
a word I expect you to understand.”
Her
smile turned brittle. “Are you delaying on purpose? The hour grows late, my
lord.”
He
shoved to his feet, sending his chair skidding backward. He yanked off his
jacket and vest, his eyes never leaving her face. Reaching behind his neck, he
pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside on one smooth move.
A
woman nearby made a hissing sound of approval.
The corner of his mouth kicked up
in acknowledgement. He knew he was well-formed. He spent a goodly amount of
time riding, fencing, swimming, fighting. He was not ashamed. That said, he did
not appreciate being forced to undress so that he could be ogled and made a
spectacle of. Again. The first time had been at her hand, too.
Anger,
hot as molten rock, poured through him. It was in his every movement. The crowd
fell silent around him as he removed one boot, then the next. His hands went to
the front of his trousers and hesitated.
She
watched him, her throat working as she swallowed.
“Is this what you want?” he
demanded.
The color rode high in her face,
crowding the edges of her domino. She was getting more than she bargained for.
She realized that now.
He
leaned across the table, flattening his palms on the baize surface and bringing
his face inches from her. “This is what you’ve been so curious about? Is it
not?”
Her
breath escaped in a sharp hitch. “You flatter yourself.”
“You
set the stake, not I. Shall I satisfy your curiosity at last?” His voice
dropped to a whisper. “Now you can infuse some reality to your artwork. That
will be a refreshing bit of change.”
Her
nostrils flared. Her words escaped in a low hiss for his ears alone, “There is
truth in my drawings.”
Her
words struck him like steel striking flint. He laughed once, hard and
unforgiving. “You’re about to witness the truth. Pay close heed. So next time,
I expect you to get it right.”
“I’ve
drawn you once. No need to repeat the task.”
He
tsked. “Come now. I fascinate you as a subject. You know it. I know it.”
“Rubbish,”
she spat, her gaze sparking fire through the eyeholes of her domino.
“Shall
I prove it?” Shoving back off the table, he dropped his hands to the front of
his trousers. Tearing loose the buttons, he shoved them down and stood naked
before the room. Unlike the other men, he did not sink into his chair. He let
the room have a look. He let her drink
her fill.
Her
mouth popped wide in a little o.
Those eyes of hers traveled over him, missing nothing. She looked everywhere. Especially
there.
Those big brown eyes of grew
larger yet. She looked for so long and so intently that he stirred. He knew he
should have felt a stab of embarrassment as he grew before her eyes. Or perhaps
not. This was Sodom where all manner of illicit activity happened before all
manner of audience, after all. Nothing was too shameful. Nothing private.
His
response to her irked him. The stroke of her gaze shouldn’t make him randy as a
green lad. Any other female, fine. Only not her.
“Gor,”
a woman clucked from the crowd. “I wouldn’t mind a ride on that.”
Fire
lit Aurelia’s cheeks.
She had failed. She might have
won the wager, but he was the victor. She had planned to embarrass him and
failed. Satisfied, he sank down in his chair.
The
crowd dissipated around them. The men hastily redressed and retreated, but he
remained where he was, naked in the chair, holding her gaze for long moment.
“Not
so cockless. Am I?” he queried lightly.
“You’ve
proven that well enough,” she replied evenly, the color in her face becoming
less red and more pink.
“Do
well to remember it in your spinster bed,” he flung out. “Or perhaps someday
you will wed and have but a puny rod to take between your thighs. You’ll think
of me often then, will you not?”
“You’re
vile.” She surged to her feet and started past him, but he grabbed her wrist,
squeezing the delicate bones in his grip. She looked down at him, her brown
eyes luminescent within her mask.
He rolled his thumb against the
inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse flutter there as wild as a moth’s wings.
“Don’t ever come here again.”
“You
do not command me.”
“But
that is what you need. A strict hand to lead you.” His gaze raked her. “Look at
you. Look where you are.” He waved a hand about them.
“I
command myself.”
“Do
you? Very well then,” he sneered, flinging her from him as though he could not
stand the feel of her a moment longer. “Next time I’ll let any manner of man
take you upstairs and claim your virtue. If, in fact, you’re still in
possession of it—“
His
words hit the mark. A stricken look crossed her face before disappearing and
giving way to a cheery smile. “You forget yourself, Camden. You did not rescue
me. It is you who lost the wager to me.”
Still wearing that bright smile,
she turned away, her hips moving in a way he had never noticed before, swaying
as she took small, tight steps in her black gown. A gown that he suddenly
envisioned wadded up in a ball at the foot of his bed. That would be one way to
command her, he thought, watching
hungrily as she disappeared through the crowd of Mrs. Bancroft’s sitting room.
Indeed, he could command her in his bed. Beneath him. If he didn’t find her so
detestable, that would be the perfect place for her.
Sophie Jordan grew up in the Texas hill country where she wove
fantasies of dragons, warriors, and princesses. A former high school English
teacher, she’s the New York Times, USA Today and international bestselling
author of more than twenty novels. She now lives in Houston with her family.
When she’s not writing, she spends her time overloading on caffeine (lattes
preferred), talking plotlines with anyone who will listen (including her kids),
and cramming her DVR with anything that has a happily ever after. You can visit
her online at www.sophiejordan.net.
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# 1 New York Times and # 1 International Bestselling author Jennifer lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing, she spends her time reading, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki.
Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She is published with Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Teen and Brazen, Disney/Hyperion and Harlequin Teen. Her book Obsidian has been optioned for a major motion picture and her Covenant Series has been optioned for TV. Her young adult romantic suspense novel DON’T LOOK BACK was a 2014 nominated Best in Young Adult Fiction by YALSA.
She also writes Adult and New Adult contemporary and paranormal romance under the name J. Lynn. She is published by Entangled Brazen and HarperCollins.
