“He lifted the book from the purse. The cover sported a painting of a stunning redhead in a long, pink gown who stared out the window over rolling green hills. The cover was slightly narrower than the rest of the book, and from underneath peeked out what looked to be a second cover. He turned the page and was startled at what he saw. Another full-color painting, but this one of a shirtless man smashing the heavily bosomed redhead onto a red couch. Her clothes were torn and their torsos met violently. The man’s face was savage; the woman’s head thrown back in surrender. Sam flicked back and forth between the image of the prim, composed woman on the front cover and her ribald, passionate abandon on the inside cover. He glanced out the window to see Ally emerge onto the street below, her head held high and her gait tight and focused as she marched away, prim and composed. He flipped to the inside cover.Hot damn.”

“Not the title. Not the riches. Not the bravery. Not the glory. Just the man. The simple man, standing before her, looking into her eyes as if he saw just the woman. For the first time in their lives, they were truly alone.—From The Dulcet Duke”

“He wished to cover her with his body, possess her-for if he could do that, he could pretend to himself that she was safe. Covering her so...he might protect her. Or so he felt, even knowing how senseless the feeling was.”

“But what happens when her beauty is torn from her like a cover from a book? Will he care to read her then, although her pages speak of nothing but love for him?”

“Anita Kleinman was a slight woman in her seventies. Her hair was thinning and white with a touch of pink, and was swept back from her face in unbroken waves. She wore a full-length Chinese silk gown covered with bright gold dragons on a blue background. Her fingers were tipped with long red nails and heavy with gold rings. She held out her arms in an expression of welcome and perhaps to show me the full extent of her dragons.”

“He had her alone in the garden. Her moist lips. The moonlight in her eyes. A lesser man would be merely tempted. A greater man would surely resist. A man like him would indulge, and without regret. —From The Dulcet Duke”

“There comes a time in every scoundrel’s life when he catches a glimpse of what he might have been. Only if he catches it in the reflection of the right woman’s eye, is there hope for reform. —From The Dulcet Duke”