Berkley Sensation
ISBN: ISBN-10: 0425228487 /
ISBN-13: 9780425228487
Release Date: May 4, 2010
A Marquis' Betrayal
Lady Louisa Brooke has many suitors, but the only man for her is the wild and ruthless Marquis of Jardine. When Jardine suddenly abandons her after a long-standing liaison, he leaves her with nothing except the secret they share. Her future in ruins, Louisa recklessly accepts a mission from the head of the secret service and becomes embroiled in a perilous operation in which nothing is as it seems...
A Lady's Revenge
The Marquis of Jardine is determined to destroy the criminal mastermind who's sworn vengeance against all he holds dear. But when he hears that Louisa is to wed a dangerous enemy, Jardine is tortured by jealousy and fear for her safety. He tracks her down, only to discover that her mission collides with his.
A Love that Won't Be Denied
Together, Louisa and Jardine must now foil a plan to betray the secret service and escape a diabolical revenge. But can they put the past behind them, and take the greatest risk of all--on love?
What they're saying...
"With a clever, pulse-pounding spy thriller Wells completely enthralls readers. Not only is the suspense high, but the surprising plot twists and nonstop action will keep you turning the pages with bated breath. Once you start reading, don't plan on doing anything else."
– Kathe Robin, Senior Reviewer, RT Magazine (Read full review)
"It would be a sin to miss this book!"
– Anna Campbell
"An absolute delight! I wouldn't mind sharing more adventures with these two."
– Beyond Her Book, Publisher's Weekly (Read full review)
"Nobody writes heroines like Christine Wells, and her latest Sweetest Little Sin is exemplary of this talent. Sweet, sexy, sensual, steamy, sensational!"
– Kate Cuthbert, editor, Romance Buzz
"Boy oh boy, did these two heat up the pages! ...Filled with intrigue, incredibly likable characters, and Ms. Wells's trademark wit and passion, Sweetest Little Sin will surely find its way to your keeper shelf!"
– The Romance Dish (Read full review)
"A spine-tingling romantic suspense novel with a spirited gutsy heroine and a dark brooding hero. The unexpected twists and turns of this fast paced thriller will keep you glued to the pages, but the blistering heat between Jardine and Louisa will keep you sighing with envy! Ms. Wells has won this reader over as a #1 fan!"
– The Romance Readers' Connection (Read full review)
Excerpt One
"What the Devil are you doing here?" Jardine leaned against the doorjamb, felt himself slip a bit, and jerked upright. The woman before him ripped off her mask, but he didn't need to see her face to know who it was.
That mouth. He'd know that mouth anywhere.
"Dammit, Louisa. Get out." His speech slurred only slightly. Though he tried to enunciate the words, his tongue remained damnably heavy and slow. He hoped to God the foul concoction Emerson had given him would work its magic soon so he could think.
The startlingly blue eyes blazed. "You are drunk! I don't believe it."
"Drunk," he muttered. He'd give a lot to exchange the agony of last night for an evening carousing with the brandy bottle. But it was a good explanation for the state she found him in--worse for wear, muzzy with the opiate they'd given him to numb the pain, trembling like a jelly.
Drunk? Yes, it would serve.
He forced his head to nod in agreement. "Three sheets to the wind, m'dear."
Damned if the look on her face wouldn't terrify a man into sobriety, if drunkenness had been what ailed him. Curling his lips into a faint, mocking smile, he watched her beneath half-lowered lids. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"You . . ." The tip of her tongue touched her upper lip, before her teeth clamped on it. She threw her shoulders back. "You forgot my birthday."
"Ah." He held up a hand that felt like it weighed a ton. "Now that's where you're wrong. I did remember. Just before I dropped off to sleep, I knew there was something . . ."
She gasped, every muscle in her body stiffening in outrage.
To an outsider, her reaction might seem out of proportion to the event. But it wasn't about the birthday. This wasn't the kind of feminine tantrum that one soothed with easy words and hot kisses. He knew that.
He knew her.
And he knew he risked losing her. Risked everything he had on this one, last throw of the dice.
A searing tide of remorse and impotent fury surged through his aching body, enlivening torn muscles, clearing the fog from his brain. His gaze focused on Louisa's untouched features, her skin, pale and flawless as cream, and his hands curled into fists.
If wounding Louisa made her keep her distance, it was worth it. Even though that flare of pain in her eyes seared him like a brand.
"Jardine! Are you listening to what I'm saying to you?"
There was a catch in the stoical Louisa's voice that struck him to the soul. No, he hadn't been listening, but he guessed what she'd said.
The need to hold her was an ache in his gut, but instead of taking her in his arms, he gave her his best attempt at a careless shrug. He must enrage her, make her leave him without a backward glance, but he mustn't overdo it. She was smart as a whip and she knew him too well. This would have to be the performance of a lifetime.
He flicked his hand carelessly. "Yes, yes, it was your birthday. I forgot. I apologize. Females set such store by things like that, don't they?"
The murderous look that fell over her features told him his offhanded apology had the desired effect. Her eyes shot lightning bolts, her cheeks flushed, the lines of her body tightened until they trembled. "They do, do they? You utter blackguard, Jardine!"
She launched into an impassioned diatribe, but the effect her fury had on him was the opposite of chastening. Despite his manifold aches, his body roused at the sight of her, standing there tearing strips off him like some avenging Norse goddess.
She wasn't a beauty, his Louisa. She was tall and lean and strong with small, firm breasts that fitted snugly into a man's hands. Her jaw was a little too decided, her nose boldly defined, her straight, black brows an odd contrast with the cold flaxen tone of her hair.
But one look in those fierce warrior-woman eyes and he'd been bowled over, knocked for six. As he hadn't recovered in the many years since, it didn't look like he ever would.
And that mouth. A ripple of lust eddied through him at the thought of Louisa's mouth.
In her lips, she was all woman--contours and soft, ripe sweetness. And she was talking in that low, husky tone again, saying a lot of things about the future, about commitment, about fairy tales and impossible dreams. All he wanted to do was take her to bed, drink from those lips while he made love to her slowly, sink into the blaze of her, burn to ashes in her arms.
He'd missed the chance for such lengthy exploration last night. And now . . . Well, now, she would hate him for what he was going to do to her. What he must do.
At last, he cut through her angry speech.
"Louisa, why are you here? We had an agreement."
"Why do you think I wore this stupid mask?" she flashed. "I thought something had happened to you. I thought you were injured or . . . or dead." Her voice scraped on the last word. He struggled to ignore it.
"Well, I'm not."
At the flippant rejoinder, she visibly ground her teeth. "More's the pity," she muttered.
He knew she didn't mean it, but something in his chest gave a painful twist.
"What would you do if you were free of me?" he said. "Marry one of those vultures you have buzzing around you?" It hadn't escaped him that since her brother had settled a large dowry on the girl, Louisa had become quite the matrimonial prize.
Quietly, she said, "I am nine-and-twenty, Jardine."
"Really?" he drawled, "I'd forgotten." He strolled toward her, suppressing a wince at the pain of every movement. He tamped down the panic, choked off the urge to tell her the truth.
He knew to a minute how old she was. He thought of the night he'd planned for her birthday, the heady anticipation that had made him a trifle less careful than usual, an easy target for the abduction and mild torture that followed.
The real torture of knowing she waited for him last night, yet he couldn't go to her.
He reached out and took her chin in his hand, tilting her head so the weak morning sunlight illuminated her remarkable features. Her face was all planes and angles--except for that most sensual pair of lips. So tempting to take that mouth, to lose himself in her, forget what he'd sworn to do.
But if she felt secure enough, safe enough to come here in this reckless fashion, what were the odds she wouldn't make another slip? How could he trust her to stay away from him unless he made it impossible for her to return?
"You have been a lovely diversion, Louisa." Disregarding her cry of fury, he went on. "You were never anything more to me, you know. And now, I find that I've tired of our little game of cat and mouse."
Softly, he said, "The time has come for us to part."
