TITLE – Kissed at Midnight AUTHOR – Samantha Holt GENRE – Historical Romance PUBLICATION DATE – 18th February LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 60,000
August Avery, a renowned civil engineer, has found himself the sole custodian of his cousin’s six month old daughter and he needs assistance—fast. He understands how to build railways, to construct bridges and to save the railway tycoons thousands of pounds. He doesn’t understand, however, how to care for a child.
When Ivy Davis turns up at his door looking for work, he believes his prayers are answered. If only the exotic, exuberant young woman did not prove to be such a distraction from his busy workload.
Unsure if she is even up to the task of looking after a baby, Ivy finds herself swayed by the handsome and slightly desperate August into working for him. With her singing career failing before it even started and no other talents, she decides looking after a young child cannot be so hard, surely?
But the child may turn out to be the least of her worries. Her handsome, brooding master seems to keep her awake more than the baby. Add to that her desire to achieve her dreams of singing on stage and the machinations of the indomitable Mrs. Pepperwhite who sees her as competition for August’s hand, Ivy finds this simple job growing harder by the day—as does her desire for her master...
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Review: I really enjoyed this book. The relationship that develops between Ivy and August is refreshing.
Review: I enjoyed this story. I loved the fact that both main characters were independent people and can take care of themselves but still found themselves want and needing the other. Things got pretty steamy between Ivy and August. However, it was refreshing to see that August was very respectful of Ivy and wouldn't just take what he wanted. They say if something like, you love something let it go and it if it comes back to you it was yours, well this story is a good example of that.
Ivy darted a look at the door as she eased herself down onto the bed beside her master. The housekeeper could have no reason to come upstairs but if she caught her in the master’s room—on his bed no less—she could be in quite a pickle.
“Mr.—” A snore escaped his mouth and she shook her head. “Oh dear, Mr. Avery. You are the one who is in a pickle I think. Or more likely utterly foxed.”
Leaning over, she went to grasp his hand to study the damage and froze when he grunted and rolled towards her. His arm landed near her backside on the bed and his head was almost on her lap. Ivy attempted to take his hurt hand from behind her but he twined it out of her grasp and released a low mumble. She gasped when his hand curved around her backside. She wore only her chemise and her drawers. Mr. Avery’s warm hand fairly burned through the cotton, feeling as though she would wake up with a handprint on her bottom.
She twisted to yank his hand away, only to end up with his head pressed against the side of her breast. Mr Avery nuzzled his face against her breast and she stilled. She should draw away, press him back, but for some reason her body refused to cooperate. Hands to his head, she found his hair to be soft and thick.
Oh dear. One part of her body seemed to be working—her fingers. They twined into the softness, so at odds with the rest of him, from his stern features to what she suspected was a body that rivalled the statues of London. He released a muffled groan against her and she heard him inhale deeply.
“Smell so good,” he murmured.
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. She was going to lose her job not two days into it if she was not careful. Her nipples were tight and hard. Lush heat rolled through her as he burrowed closer and his hand splayed across her back to hold her to him.
A creak from somewhere else in the house startled her into action. She jerked back and clasped his wrist to force his hand back. At least in his foxed state he wasn’t particularly strong. She had no doubt if he really wanted to keep hold of her, he could, but had he been sober, she was positive he’d want nothing to do with the governess. A man like Mr Avery likely enjoyed the company of women less... interesting-looking than her. Blonde ones with soft features and a delicate manner.
He rolled onto his back, a grin cracking his face. His eyes were at half-mast and she wasn’t sure what amused him. Recalling her original reason for being on the bed, she grasped his hand and inspected the cut. It had already stopped bleeding so couldn’t be deep. Ivy rolled her eyes to herself. All this for a tiny scratch. At least he was so foxed he would never recall any of it.
Samantha lives in a small village in England with her gorgeous twin girls. She enjoys writing historical romance involving chivalrous knights, hot highlanders and cravatted men, but sometimes gets lured away by bad boy bikers, soldiers and other heroic modern men.
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