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A 2018 Romance Writers of America® RITA® Contest Finalist!
She promised three nights, but he’ll crave a lifetime
Infamous for his pedigree of madness and murder, the reclusive Duke of Ashbey believes he cannot feel until a mysterious woman unlocks a world of sensation in a single, shattering moment of connection. Ash casts a desperate bid for more.
Recent widow Alicia Stone has long been reviled as the chief impediment to a love affair that captured the nation’s imagination. Publicly, she settled for respectability’s cold comfort, but, secretly, she longs to experience what she never found with her famous husband—uninhibited passion.
When Ashbey proposes a discreet three-night assignation, Alicia shocks herself by accepting. But will their explosive union cost them both far more than they bargained?
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Review Quotes
“Great characters. Great sex. Great story.” -Author Abigail Sharp
“I’ve already read the book twice, fallen in love with these characters and their story the first go-around.” -PJ, The Romance Dish
“Her Duke at Daybreak is a steamy romance but it is so much more. It is the joining of two lost souls.” -Kelly Tyree, Goodreads
“This is my first experience of Wendy’s books, it won’t be the last. Her characters are wonderful and her writing is riveting.” -Maggie Whitworth, Goodreads
“This was a Happily Ever After that almost didn’t happen so that makes it all the more enjoyable when it finally comes.” -Diane, Goodreads
Excerpt
A distinctly male scent filled the air—wealthy male, a scent she recognized but could not place. Hair on her neck raised; she forced a calming breath. Nothing came of panic. She’d learned that on the high seas.
“Please, have a seat.”
His cultured intonation disproved her first assumption—that he was yet another of Octavius’s creditors, the horrid men who demanded money in the most unlikely of places.
“Imprisonment,” she said coolly, “is not to my taste. And if it is not to yours, I suggest you unlock that door.”
“Admirable restraint,” he said.
“Losing one’s head is a luxury afforded only to those accustomed to care.”
He made a deep, humming sort of sound, a sound she felt in her belly.
“A woman such as yourself should be accustomed to care.”
She added outrageous to a list that included male, wealthy, and cultured. “I do not believe we’ve been introduced, Mr. —?”
“The honorific you seek is Your Grace.”
She turned. His face was illuminated by the faint glow spilling from a lighted sconce.
The duke—if he was truly a duke—was at least a full head taller than she, but it was his smoldering eyes that sparked recognition. He was the man from the funeral.
For a split second that might as well have been an eternity, her mind went blessedly blank. Then, bereft of thought’s direction, her senses began to dance.
Stop, she ordered.
But he smells so nice, they whined.
“You’ve surmised you are in no immediate danger.”
But she was in danger. Pure peril, actually—past, present and future.
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