I started with the book, Blue Eyed Devil and was hooked on her books since. Blue Eyed Devil was basically about a rich girl was in caught in a tragic marriage and the man who grew up with nothing and needed to prove his worth. The two main characters fight their own demons and in the process come together. I enjoyed the book and learned a lot about Narcissistic Personality Disorder, something I have never encountered (thank god) and never knew about.
Another favorite book of mine by the same author, is Married By Morning. I enjoyed the banter of the two main characters were quite adorable if you ask me. From there, I continued the Hathaway series and found the family very amusing because of their various quirks (you will need to read the books to know what I mean).
Below is an excerpt from Tempt Me At Twilight. I hope you found this as entertaining as I did. Possibly one of my favorite parts of that book would be this scene.
The housekeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Have you noticed nothing odd about their relationship, Valentine?”
“No, and it’s not appropriate for us to discuss it.”
Monsieur Broussard regarded Mrs. Pennywhistle with keen interest. “I’m French,” he said. “I have
no problem discussing it.”
Mrs. Pennywhistle lowered her voice, mindful of the scullery maids who were washing pots in the
adjoining room. “There is some doubt as to whether they’ve had conjugal relations yet.”
“Now see here—” Jake began, outraged at this violation of his employer’s privacy.
“Have some of this, mon ami,” Broussard said, shoving a pastry plate at him. As Jake sat and picked
up a spoon, the chef gave Mrs. Pennywhistle an encouraging glance. “What gives you the
impression that he has not yet, er... sampled the watercress?”
“Watercress?” Jake repeated incredulously.
“Cresson.” Broussard gave him a superior look. “A metaphor. And much nicer than the metaphors
you English use for the same thing.”
“I never use metaphors,” Jake muttered.
“Bien sur, you have no imagination.” The chef turned back to the housekeeper. “Why is there doubt
about the relations between Monsieur and Madame Rutledge?”
“The sheets,” she said succinctly.
Jake nearly choked on his pastry. “You have the housemaids spying on them?” he asked around a
mouthful of custard and cream.
“Not at all,” the housekeeper said defensively. “It’s only that we have vigilant maids who tell me
everything. And even if they didn’t, one hardly needs great powers of observation to see that they do
not behave like a married couple.”
The chef looked deeply concerned. “You think there’s a problem with his carrot?”
“Watercress, carrot—is everything food to you?” Jake demanded.
The chef shrugged. “Oui.”
“Well,” Jake said testily, “there is a string of Rutledge’s past mistresses who would undoubtedly
testify there is nothing wrong with his carrot.”
“Alors, he is a virile man... she is a beautiful woman... why are they not making salad together?”
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