{"id":7080,"date":"2017-08-08T01:05:34","date_gmt":"2017-08-08T05:05:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/?p=7080"},"modified":"2017-08-06T08:36:21","modified_gmt":"2017-08-06T12:36:21","slug":"devils-run-by-beverley-oakley","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/?p=7080","title":{"rendered":"Devil’s Run by Beverley Oakley"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n<\/a><\/div>\n
\nDevil’s Run <\/b><\/span>
\nScandalous Miss Brightwells series<\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
\nBy Beverley Oakley<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n
\n
\n<\/b><\/span> Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate <\/span>to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here<\/a>. <\/span><\/b><\/span>
\n
\n<\/b><\/span> BLURB: <\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
\n
\n<\/a>A rigged horserace and a marriage offer riding on the outcome. When Miss Eliza Montrose unexpectedly becomes legal owner of the horse tipped to win the East Anglia Cup, her future is finally in her hands \u2013 but at what cost?<\/b><\/div>\n

<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

\nGeorge Bramley, nephew to the Earl of Quamby, will wager anything. Even his future bride.<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\nMiss Eliza Montrose will accept any wager to be reunited with the child she was forced to relinquish after an indiscretion \u2014 even if it means marrying a man she does not love.<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\nBut with her heart suddenly engaged by handsome, charming Rufus Patmore who has just bought a horse from her betrothed George Bramley in whose household her son lives as a pauper child, the outcome of the wager is suddenly fraught with peril.<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
\n**This is book 3 in the Scandalous Miss Brightwells series, though it can be read as a stand-alone.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\nAmazon US<\/a> | All other retailers<\/a><\/span><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n~*~*~*~*~*~<\/span><\/div>\n
\nExcerpt: <\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
\n
\n<\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
\nChapter One<\/span><\/strong><\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\n\u201cAnd there\u2019s nothing else you\u2019d like, my dear? No?\u201d Straightening after receiving a polite rebuff, George Bramley found it an effort to keep the syrup in his tone. His bride-to-be had not even looked at him as she\u2019d declined the piece of marchpane he\u2019d been certain would win him at least a smile.<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nHovering at her side, he weighed up the advantages of a gentle rebuke, then decided against it. Until yesterday, he\u2019d thought her quiet demeanour suggested a charmingly pliant nature. Now he was not so sure. In fact, suddenly, he was not sure of anything.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\n\u201cA glass of lemonade, perhaps, my angel? Or a gentle stroll?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\n\u201cI would prefer to be left alone.\u201d Miss Montrose waved a languid hand in his general direction, while she continued to gaze at the still lake beside which their picnic party had situated itself.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nThe languid arm-wave had not even been accompanied by a demure thank you<\/i> as subtle acknowledgement of her gratitude that not only had Mr Bramley, heir to a viscountcy, stepped in to rescue Miss Eliza Montrose from impoverishment, he was prepared to treat her publicly as if she were as fine a catch as he could<\/i> have made.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nA soft titter brought his head round sharply, but the ladies behind him, bent over the latest Ackerman\u2019s Repository,<\/i> appeared occupied with their own gossip as they lounged on cushions beneath the canopy that had been erected to protect them from the sun.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nAwkwardly, he looked for occupation as he continued to eye his intended with a mixture of irritation and desire\u2014both lustful desire, and the desire to put her in her place.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nThe idea of the latter made him harden. She was beautiful, this quiet, apparently retiring, young woman who said so little, but whose eyes spoke such volumes. The afternoon sun glinted on her honey-gold hair and imbued her porcelain skin with a warm glow. The skin that he could see, at any rate.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nHe pushed back his shoulders. On their wedding night in six weeks, when he\u2019d at last take possession of her, he\u2019d rip that modesty to shreds. The skin she was so at pains to hide would be his, not only to see, but to caress and taste. When she was his wife, the beautiful, distant Miss Eliza Montrose would no longer get away with paying George Bramley so little attention. No, he\u2019d have her screaming and writhing at his command. He would make her like the things he did to her; or at least, show him she did if she enjoyed harmony as much as she appeared to. None of this languid reclining like a half-drugged princess in his presence. He\u2019d keep her on her toes, ready to leap to his bidding at the sound of his footstep. She\u2019d learn to be grateful.<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nFeeling ignored and superfluous, he turned to his uncle\u2019s detestable wife, Lady Quamby, and said with a smile, \u201cPerhaps you and Miss Montrose would like to accompany me to the turret. Since you appear to have enjoyed this new <\/span>novel, <\/span>Northanger Abbey,<\/span><\/i> so much, you might be interested to know there is an excellent view of the ruined monastery not far from here.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nHe was just priding himself on being so attuned to the feminine inclination for pleasure, when Lady Quamby half turned and sent him a desultory smile. \u201cOh, I think Miss Eliza looks perfectly comfortable, and Fanny and I are having such a lovely little coze.\u201d As if imitating Miss Montrose, she waved a languid hand in his general direction. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you take Mr Patmore off to see it? The two of you can tell us all about it when you return.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nThe fact that Miss Montrose didn\u2019t deign to even speak for herself, much less glance in his direction, sent the blood surging to Bramley\u2019s brain. By God, when he was married to Eliza Montrose, the limpid look of love so lacking now would be pasted onto her face every time he crossed her line of vision. She\u2019d soon learn what was good for her.<\/span><\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nHe inclined his head, hiding his fury, and was on the point of leaving when Lady Quamby\u2019s sister, Fanny \u2014for he\u2019d be damned if he\u2019d accord the little strumpet the title of Lady Fenton\u2014leapt up from her chair. She\u2019d been poring over the latest fashions, but now she smiled brightly up at him.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll come with you, Cousin George. We\u2019ll have an excellent view of the  children learning to row from the battlements. I told Nanny Brown she could take them in the two boats if they\u2019d been good.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nBramley stared down her liveliness. In fact, he was about to give up the idea of going up to the battlements altogether when his other guest, Rufus Patmore, suddenly rose and joined Fanny\u2019s side with a late and unexpected show of enthusiasm.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\n\u201cCapital idea!\u201d declared Rufus.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nGeorge flashed them both a dispassionate look. He’d chosen to invite his betrothed, Miss Montrose\u2014whose chaperone was currently tucked up in the green bed chamber nursing a head cold\u2014to be his guest at his uncle\u2019s estate, Quamby House, after receiving intelligence that Ladies Quamby and Fenton would be safely in London with their husbands and children. Instead, the brazen Brightwell sisters\u2014as they\u2019d infamously been called when he\u2019d first made their acquaintance\u2014had altered their plans, and were now in dogged attendance, reminding him as they always had, of some awful tenacious climbing plant, determined to find a foothold wherever they could in order to rise in the world.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nRufus, a last-minute addition and acquaintance from his club, Boodles, was here because he\u2019d just purchased a horse from Bramley the night before. Now, Rufus was gazing at Lady Fenton, with the same dewy-eyed fondness George was used to seeing reflected in the eye of his uncle, the Earl of Quamby, who called the Brightwell sisters his precious rose-buds. To George, they were common dandelions! And now they had overridden Quamby House, the rambling Queen Anne manor house and estate that would have passed to George the moment his uncle quit this mortal coil, were it not for the snotty-nosed infant Lady Quamby had borne far too early in her marriage to George’s uncle.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nGeorge shook his head. He\u2019d changed his mind. Only, there was Rufus striding across the lawn, skirting the lake with Fanny at his side, and George didn\u2019t want to be seen as petulant for having offered the suggestion in the first place. Or have his snubbed and ignored status so much on parade, since the two remaining ladies\u2014Miss Montrose and Lady Quamby\u2014had their heads bent together in deep discussion, with no apparent interest in seeking his company.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\nBy God, he thought, clenching his fists as he set off after them at a brisk trot, they’d all rue the day they showed George Bramley so little respect.<\/span><\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\n<\/a><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n
\nOther Books in the Series: <\/b><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\nBook 1: Rake\u2019s Honour<\/a><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n
\nBook 2: Rogue\u2019s Kiss<\/a><\/span><\/i><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\nBook 3: Devil\u2019s Run<\/a><\/span><\/i><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
\n<\/i><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n~*~*~*~*~*~<\/span><\/span>
\nAuthor Info: <\/b><\/span><\/span>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n
\n
\n<\/a>Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.<\/span><\/div>\n
\nTwenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved<\/em> from drowning in the icy North Sea.<\/span><\/div>\n
\nSince 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone\u2019s honour \u2013 or a worthy damsel from the noose \u2013 it\u2019s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.<\/span><\/div>\n
\nBeverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.<\/span><\/div>\n
\nYou can get in contact with Beverley at:<\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
\nwebsite<\/a> | Facebook<\/a> | Pinterest<\/a> | Twitter<\/a> | Goodreads<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

Link to Beverley’s Rafflecopter giveaway.<\/strong><\/a>
\nThis giveaway is not associated with, managed, endorsed or sponsored by the Kate Hill Blog.<\/strong>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Devil’s Run  Scandalous Miss Brightwells series By Beverley Oakley Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.  BLURB: …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7080","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7080","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7080"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7080\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7087,"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7080\/revisions\/7087"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7080"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7080"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7080"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}