Thursday, May 28, 2015

Guarding from every danger but passion itself

A Maiden Lane Novel
by Elizabeth Hoyt
a Historical Romance
from Grand Central Publishing

Lady Phoebe Batten is pretty, vivacious, and yearning for a social life befitting the sister of a powerful duke. But because she is almost completely blind, her overprotective brother insists that she have an armed bodyguard by her side at all times-the very irritating Captain Trevillion.

Captain James Trevillion is proud, brooding, and cursed with a leg injury from his service in the King's dragoons. Yet he can still shoot and ride like the devil, so watching over the distracting Lady Phoebe should be no problem at all-until she's targeted by kidnappers.

Caught in a deadly web of deceit, James must risk life and limb to save his charge from the lowest of cads-one who would force Lady Phoebe into a loveless marriage. But while they're confined to close quarters for her safekeeping, Phoebe begins to see the tender man beneath the soldier's hard exterior . . . and the possibility of a life-and love-she never imagined possible.

Review by pearls
The Maiden Lane series is quickly becoming one of my favorite historical romance series.  With it's strong independent female characters and glimpses into the darker parts of London society, there is always a sense of adventure.  This newest installment Dearest Rogue did not disappoint me.  Both main characters are disabled, but striving to live a full life.  Both are strong individual heroes on their own account.  Together, they make a strong team who see one another's strengths, not weaknesses, supporting each other against what life throws at them.  Previous characters are brought back, but first time readers will not feel lost thanks to well-woven descriptions.  Adventure and Action pace the plot, while still stopping to take the time to smell the roses.  I love the imagery and symbolism provided by the roses in the book.  This may be my favorite of the series so far. 

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He cleared his throat. “Malcolm MacLeish is young and handsome—”
“A fat lot of good that does me, since I can’t see him.”
“— a gentleman of high spirits and quick wit and seemingly smitten with you as well.”
There was a silence.
“Smitten,” Phoebe said at last. “Smit-ten. The word sounds like a skin disease if you think about it too much.”
“He smiles every time he sees you,” he murmured quietly. Was he jealous?
“I smile every time I smell cherry pie.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Trevillion said disapprovingly. “I don’t see why you’ve rejected him out of hand.”
“You sound like a querulous old aunt, scolding children for running through the house.”
“I am older than you,” he replied stiffly, “as I’ve pointed out on numerous occasions.”
A terrible thought struck her. “Are you shoving me at Mr. MacLeish because I kissed you?”
“It was my very first kiss, you ought to know,” she said very rapidly, because sometimes it was just better to say the embarrassing thing and get it over with. “I’m sure I’ll improve with practice. In fact, I’m sure of it. Almost everything improves with practice, don’t you think? And really, if I had a just a bit of help from your end next time—”
I am not kissing you,” he said with the awful finality of a judge pronouncing a death sentence.
“Why not?”
            “You know very well why not.”
“Nooo,” she said slowly, thinking it over. “No, I can’t say that I do, really. I mean I know why you think we oughtn’t kiss again: you’re as old as the Thames, you’re below me in rank, I’m too young and frivolous, and you much too serious, et cetera, et cetera, and et cetera, but frankly I don’t have any reasons not to kiss you.” She stopped for breath and to think and amended her statement. “Unless, of course, you’re either (a) a murderer running from the law or (b) hiding a secret wife. Are you?”
“I . . . what?”
“Are you,” she repeated patiently, “either a murderer running from the law or hiding a secret wife?”
“You know I’m not,” he said with impatience. It was a good thing she was so stubborn, because that tone might have put off many another young girl. “Phoebe—”
“So then there’s no reason at all not to kiss me again.” She folded her hands in her lap and smiled.

About the author:
Elizabeth Hoyt is the New York Times bestselling author of over seventeen lush historical romances including the Maiden Lane series. Publishers Weeklyhas called her writing "mesmerizing." She also pens deliciously fun contemporary romances under the name Julia Harper. Elizabeth lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with three untrained dogs, a garden in constant need of weeding, and the long-suffering Mr. Hoyt.

The winters in Minnesota have been known to be long and cold and Elizabeth is always thrilled to receive reader mail. You can write to her at: P.O. Box 19495, Minneapolis, MN  55419 or email her at:

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