Fans of historical romances will find themselves captivated by this tale that features a marriage of convenience where feelings soon become all too real. Keep reading to get a tempting taste of Six Weeks With a Lord by Eve Pendle, then add it to your bookshelf. In honor of this unforgettable romance make sure to fill out the form below for the chance to win a $15 Amazon GC too!
Grace Alnott is out of time. To save her younger brother from an abusive guardian, her merchant father’s will demands she must marry a peer. Handsome but destitute Everett Hetherington, Earl of Westbury agrees to her offer of a marriage of convenience but stipulates she must live with him for six weeks. No matter how honorable he seems she can’t allow him to get too close, because the aristocracy cannot be trusted.
Six weeks. Major Everett Hetherington, new Earl of Westbury, has exactly six weeks to convince the very independent Grace Alnott to spend the rest of her life with him. Despite her belief she doesn't belong in his world, he must tempt the alluring Grace into staying, because he has fallen for her. Hard. He just has to ensure she never discovers his secret.
“I suppose you think me selfish to not want to marry a man I neither love nor respect.” Her mouth was tight. “But I refuse to martyr myself by marrying Lord Rayner, when the result would be a totally powerless state after the marriage.”
Ah. Just a vague fear of a bad marriage. It seemed rather superficial to want love more than wanting to stay with family, but hadn’t he been cautious about marrying the wrong person? And as a man, all he had to be concerned about was a lack of conjugal bliss, not actual bodily harm. He was the owner, not the property.
“I can understand wanting love in your marriage.” He let his tone dip as he said the words and was gratified to see an answering visceral reaction in Grace. She flushed. This was where he would link the attraction between them with something more. “You know, love can grow in surprising places.”
Her neck stiffened and she sauntered away, looking deliberately around the room. Everett found he was anticipating her response.
“There are some leaks in this place, I concede. And there are holes in the curtains that let in light. Perhaps there are the prerequisites to grow something in this house.” She swung around to stare down at him. “But Everett, love is not a weed.”
“No, it’s a wildflower.”
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Eve lives in England and writes angsty, snarky and passionate Victorian era romance. She has National Trust membership, a big-boned cat, and a crazy dog. She loves wearing dresses and eating chocolate.
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