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New Release | A Gentleman Will Never… Forget a Lady by Emily Windsor #regency #romance #newrelease
Title: A Gentleman Will Never… Forget a Lady
Author: Emily Windsor
Genre: Regency Romance
Publisher: Senara Press
Get swept away this Christmas to romantic, rugged Wales... Having lost her beloved to a storm at sea, Lady Gwen Evans is planning a life of travel to foreign lands, writing books on her adventures.
But will the arrival of a dark, scarred stranger one December’s eve disrupt all her plans...
This book is best read as a sequel to Book Two in this series: A Governess Should Never… Deny a Duke.
Bitter. Pitch. Lost.
Murk waters slapped his skin, his eyes, with relentless malice. No strength left to even shiver. His throat a jagged path of pain – breath a mere rasp.
He possessed not even the strength to abandon the debris he clung to, slip into the black sea and let it replace the unremitting agony with promised rest.
A wave swiped, smothering, and he gasped, saltwater stinging his throat, the currents beneath clattering his useless and dangling leg.
Dear heaven, let it be over.
Another crashed, tougher, tugging at him, and yet for some primeval reason, his fingers refused to unfasten, to straighten, nails rammed into the debris as though struck in with a hammer.
But it took his breath.
He wheezed, heaved in water, coughed and spat… He was to die and–
John Doherty slammed upright on the rigid bench, choking, fingers to throat, eyes wide…
No chill water or blackened night met his stare.
Instead a carpenter’s workshop lay about him, moderate in size, with myriad lengths of wood stacked and leaned, waiting to be sanded or cut or chiselled.
Mr MacNamara’s Boat Shop in Micklow, Ireland.
Slowing his breath, John rose and limped to the cracked mirror above a basin of water in the corner.
A haggard face grimaced back.
He touched the reflected forehead – grimy with sawdust and sweat. The cheeks were thin and the rough pads of his fingers ran beneath the green eyes – shadowed with pain. His hand crept to his nape, felt for the coarse scar.
Some said the near-drowned should never be rescued. They were cursed, marked by the sea as their own, and that any who aided them would be burdened also with ill-fortune.
But they needn’t have worried as the sea had indeed taken John that day.
His life and his memories.
The face that scowled back was unknown. His old life gone.
His name forgotten…
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Emily grew up in the north of England on a diet of historical romance and strong tea.
Unfortunately, you couldn’t study Regency slang, so she did the next best thing and gained a degree in Classics and History instead. This ‘led’ to an eight-year stint in engineering.
Having left city life, she now lives in a dilapidated farmhouse where her days are spent writing, fixing the leaky roof, battling the endless vegetation and finding pictures of well-tied cravats.
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