The Count's Last Mistress (The
Valencourts #1)
by Bess Greenfield
Historical Romance
Publisher:
Self/Indie
Release
Date: March 12, 2013
Heat
Level: Steamy
Word
Count: 91,000
Buy Links:
Blurb:
She set out to expose his true
nature, but the secrets revealed were her own…
In
the aftermath of war and revolution, cavalry officer Olivier Valencourt, the
comte de Chaumenay, only wants peace. But his discovery of his deceased
brother’s child in a Montmartre hovel leads to a battle of wills with the
lovely but evasive American struggling to provide for him. Determined to gain
custody of his nephew, Olivier sets out to win the audacious bohemian’s trust
with patronage and patience, but her courage, wisdom, and innocent sensuality
divert his agenda.
Painter
Jeanne Delancy has good reason to despise the portrait-worthy count before she
ever meets him. She believes he’s the man who seduced and deserted her friend long
ago. Unfortunately, the talented and persuasive Olivier is hard to dislike or
resist in person.
Conflicted
by loyalty to her missing friend and her duty to the abandoned six-year-old
she’s vowed to protect, Jeanne feels obligated to give the war hero the
opportunity to prove he’s worthy of knowing his son. But the independent woman
who thinks herself immune to temptation underestimates Olivier in many ways and
reveals far more than she ever anticipates. While the strong-willed opposites
struggle to reconcile their deepest longings, dangerous alliances and
scandalous secrets threaten a tragic repetition of history.
Warning: This title is intended
for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or
adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.
Excerpt:
The
door opened, and the impersonal explanation he’d memorized vanished from his
mind. He’d expected to see the lithesome, titian-haired beauty he’d known long
ago in Burgundy. Instead, he encountered a petite brunette in a paint-smeared
smock. There was also paint in one of the corkscrews of hair which had fallen
free of her chignon. Something about the woman arrested him though he deemed
her unconventionally pretty at best with her wide forehead, long nose, and
dainty mouth. Perhaps it was her reaction to him. He could sense the frantic
beating of her heart, and her golden brown eyes telegraphed wariness.
He
regretted causing her distress and hastened to explain himself. “Good
afternoon. I am Olivier Valencourt.” He bowed instinctively. “I’m looking for
Claudine Ardaut, and I was informed she lived here. Is she at home?”
The
young woman swallowed and hesitated, clearly debating her reply. “I am not
familiar with anyone by that name.”
Her
French was grammatically correct, but her accent revealed her as American. It
surprised him to find a foreigner in Paris now. It was unlikely that she’d come
here recently. The ruins of landmarks and homes and the mass burials of the
executed made Paris a tourist destination only for those with a morbid taste
for tragedy. She must have come before the war. There had been little warning
when France declared war against Prussia. Many foreigners found themselves
trapped inside the barricades along with working-class Parisians without the
resources to leave.
“I
was given this address by a reliable source,” he persisted. Instinct told him
she was lying.
“Are
you implying that I’m lying to you?” she asked in her slow, unnatural-sounding
manner of speech.
“Certainly
not. I was merely hoping you might know some little detail which would enable
me to find her.”
Absently,
she touched her face, leaving umber fingerprints upon her cheek. He felt an
irrational urge to wipe the paint from her smooth, fair skin. She was pretty by
any standard, he decided.
“Why
are you looking for this woman? Has she done something wrong?”
“No.
I’ve come on a personal matter.”
If
anything, she looked even more defensive. Her enormous eyes filled with censure
as if she knew what he’d done and the ramifications. The guilt he’d been trying
to suppress for weeks finally assailed him. If only he’d kept his opinions to
himself, so many lives might have turned out differently.
Her
evasiveness maddened him. He only wished to complete his mission and be done
with the whole matter, and she was keeping him from accomplishing that. He’d
overcome far more challenging obstacles than a reticent female. He’d been good
at persuading women at one time though he could scarcely recall those years
now. Searching for some way to draw her out, his glance fell upon her
voluminous smock. Sometimes the best strategy was the most obvious one. “You
are a painter, I see. I recently came into possession of some property and
could use some new art for decoration. Do you have anything for sale?”
She
frowned, instantly suspicious. “Nothing is finished.”
“I
know how you artists are. Nothing is ever completed to your satisfaction.” He
took a step toward the threshold. “Why don’t you allow me to be the judge?”
She
held her ground. “I’m certain my style would be too modern to suit your taste.”
She
folded her arms about her waist, and his eyes were instantly drawn to her small
form. She possessed a better figure than he’d thought, full round breasts and a
tiny waist. A strange sort of agitation arose inside him. With astonishment, he
recognized the sensation as lust. He hadn’t felt desire for so many months he’d
feared he might never regain that part of his nature. Though he felt reassured
that all was in working order, the inappropriateness of his irrational
attraction irritated him. “And you know my taste.”
She
surveyed his uniform from his polished boots to his fitted jacket with its neat
rows of small gold buttons and black braiding. “You are an officer of some
sort. A military man. I would guess you are conservative and view art primarily
in terms of investment.”
He’d
never given a second thought to art, but he didn’t appreciate her making
assumptions about him. “There you are wrong. As it happens, I prefer more
modern pieces. Besides, your refusal to let me judge your work only makes me
more curious about it.”
About the Author:
Bess
Greenfield grew up in Pittsburgh and graduated from Cornell University and
University of Pittsburgh School of Law. Before coming to the conclusion that she
should pursue her passion and become a novelist, she worked as a journalist for
several newspapers, as a lawyer, and as a waitress (disastrously). She is a
lifelong aficionado of romantic literature and currently lives in Northern
Virginia with her husband, three children, and overly affectionate chocolate
Labrador. When she is not dreaming up and researching new stories or driving
her children somewhere, she enjoys traveling, walking in the forest, and adding
to her growing collection of native Virginia plants. For more information about
Bess Greenfield and her books, please visit www.bessgreenfield.com.
Giveaway:
Prize is an eBook copy of "The Count's Last Mistress". Contest is tour-wide and ends May 5. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Thanks for hosting my book on your blog! - Bess Greenfield
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