Reminder - I have a special giveaway for July at this link.
She's a liar.
She's a con.
She's a thief.
And God help him, but he'll do anything to keep her safe.
Beautiful and conniving, maddening and brilliant, Esther is everything private detective Samuel Brass shouldn't want. Esther knows she's put herself in terrible danger, but nothing will stop her from making amends—not her family's enemies, not old fears, and certainly not the domineering, interfering, and undeniably handsome former officer of the Scotland Yard. Yet whenever he's near, Samuel makes her long for a life that can never be hers…and wish she were worthy of being saved.
Alissa Johnson is a RITA-nominated author of historical romance. She grew up on Air Force bases and attended St. Olaf College in Minnesota. She currently resides in the Arkansan Ozarks where she spends her free time keeping her Aussie dog busy, visiting with family, and dabbling in archery.
Learn more about Alissa and her books at alissajohnson.com.
Fun Fact about the Victorian Age
Two of today’s most common Christmas traditions first gained widespread popularity in the Victorian era. Christmas trees as we know them today originated in Germany. It was Queen Victoria and her family who brought the practice to England (and slightly later, America) in the mid 19th century. So when you find your carpet covered with tinsel and dead pine needles at the end of every year, you know who to blame. We can also thank the Victorians for inventing the commercially printed Christmas Card. The first were commissioned by Sir Henry Cole and designed by renowned illustrator John Calcott Horsley in 1843. Sold for a shilling a piece, they quickly replaced hand written Christmas greetings.
Two of today’s most common Christmas traditions first gained widespread popularity in the Victorian era. Christmas trees as we know them today originated in Germany. It was Queen Victoria and her family who brought the practice to England (and slightly later, America) in the mid 19th century. So when you find your carpet covered with tinsel and dead pine needles at the end of every year, you know who to blame. We can also thank the Victorians for inventing the commercially printed Christmas Card. The first were commissioned by Sir Henry Cole and designed by renowned illustrator John Calcott Horsley in 1843. Sold for a shilling a piece, they quickly replaced hand written Christmas greetings.
Public Domain (link) |
Sourcebooks is hosting a giveaway at this link ... and offers an excerpt from A GIFT FOR THE GUILE ...
Samuel grabbed Esther and shoved her behind him just as the gig raced by, launching a great wall of ditch water over the curb and onto him.
It soaked him through to the skin, and there was nothing he could do but drag a hand down his face and flick the excess moisture from his fingers.
Esther snickered. Actually, she coughed, but it was a hide-the-snicker sort of cough. It didn’t fool anyone.
He glowered at her.
She snickered again.
“Get in the carriage, Esther.”
For once, she complied without argument. She clambered inside, one hand covering her mouth. The moment the door was closed, her laughter filled the carriage.
“Oh. Oh, Lord.” She flipped up her veil. “I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry. But the state of you. Good heavens.” She calmed herself a bit and reached over to pat his knee. “My hero.”
Then she laughed some more.
He ought to be offended, really. Annoyed at the very least. But he couldn’t seem to move beyond amazed.
He’d never heard her laugh before. Not like this. Not with her head tipped back and the sound just flowing from her.
Samuel wracked his brain for a single memory of Esther laughing, really laughing, and came up blank. Years ago, when she’d been little more than a girl, she had giggled. Once or twice, she may have chuckled. Certainly, he’d heard her snicker. But he hadn’t heard her laugh. Not as a child, and not since he’d known her as an adult.
The woman simply didn’t laugh in front of him.
It seemed an odd thing not to have noticed before now. Stranger still that he should find an ordinary sound so extraordinarily appealing. There was a sweet, clear tone to it that made him think of wind chimes. Not the tinny sort Mrs. Lanchor had hung in the garden two years ago (and the beast had mauled into oblivion three days ago) but the solid sort that put one to mind of woodwinds.
Her laugh reminded him of wind chimes that reminded him of woodwinds. By God, he was England’s finest poet.
“You’ve changed,” he murmured. There used to be a brittleness about her, a deep unhappiness she kept hidden away along with her kindness and honesty, all buried beneath a layer of cool indifference. He couldn’t see that brittleness anymore.
It soaked him through to the skin, and there was nothing he could do but drag a hand down his face and flick the excess moisture from his fingers.
Esther snickered. Actually, she coughed, but it was a hide-the-snicker sort of cough. It didn’t fool anyone.
He glowered at her.
She snickered again.
“Get in the carriage, Esther.”
For once, she complied without argument. She clambered inside, one hand covering her mouth. The moment the door was closed, her laughter filled the carriage.
“Oh. Oh, Lord.” She flipped up her veil. “I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry. But the state of you. Good heavens.” She calmed herself a bit and reached over to pat his knee. “My hero.”
Then she laughed some more.
He ought to be offended, really. Annoyed at the very least. But he couldn’t seem to move beyond amazed.
He’d never heard her laugh before. Not like this. Not with her head tipped back and the sound just flowing from her.
Samuel wracked his brain for a single memory of Esther laughing, really laughing, and came up blank. Years ago, when she’d been little more than a girl, she had giggled. Once or twice, she may have chuckled. Certainly, he’d heard her snicker. But he hadn’t heard her laugh. Not as a child, and not since he’d known her as an adult.
The woman simply didn’t laugh in front of him.
It seemed an odd thing not to have noticed before now. Stranger still that he should find an ordinary sound so extraordinarily appealing. There was a sweet, clear tone to it that made him think of wind chimes. Not the tinny sort Mrs. Lanchor had hung in the garden two years ago (and the beast had mauled into oblivion three days ago) but the solid sort that put one to mind of woodwinds.
Her laugh reminded him of wind chimes that reminded him of woodwinds. By God, he was England’s finest poet.
“You’ve changed,” he murmured. There used to be a brittleness about her, a deep unhappiness she kept hidden away along with her kindness and honesty, all buried beneath a layer of cool indifference. He couldn’t see that brittleness anymore.
Book 1 in the Thief Taker series ...
sounds good.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the excerpt. Made me smile
ReplyDeleteI love the sound of this. Whitehall 1212.
ReplyDeleteI love this excerpt! Alissa's books are on my wishlist.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the excerpt - sounds really good.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the Victorian Age fun facts! The Thief Takers series sounds fun.
ReplyDeleteI'd like to read this series
ReplyDeleteAnother interesting series. I haven't read her before but I look forward to starting this series.
ReplyDeleteCarol L
Lucky4750 (at) aol (dot) com
Another interesting series. I haven't read her before but I look forward to starting this series.
ReplyDeleteCarol L
Lucky4750 (at) aol (dot) com
looks interesting
ReplyDelete