Holland is
the author of several works of erotic and romantic fiction in both the
contemporary and historical genres, and enjoys pushing the limits of freedom,
feminism, and fun in her stories. She has been an avid writer for many years,
and recently moved back to her home state of New Jersey from Boston, after
completing her education in journalism and creative writing.
In her free time,
she loves to travel, and spent several months living in a 14th century castle
in the Netherlands. When not exploring the world, she likes dreaming up stories,
eating spicy food, driving fast cars, and talking to strangers.
A DUEL OF HEARTS, Book One in
The Royal Rakes Collection
When Lady Mary Elizabeth Anne Paramour runs away
from an unhappy engagement, her options are limited. Soon, she finds herself at
the doorstep of a favored cousin's temporary home, the estate of the most
debauched lord known to the aristocracy, Nathaniel Arlington. The charming and
handsome Lord Arlington's perpetual house party is infamous across England,
and fodder for instant disownment if Mary's prudish mother, Countess Helena,
ever finds out where she is.
But
Mary, with a rebellious streak of her own that led to a lifelong interest in
fencing, comes to realize that maybe not everything is as it seems. Over
late-night sword fighting and whiskey, she begins to develop an unlikely
friendship with the lord, who might just have more behind the rakish facade
than he lets most people believe. But just as Mary thinks their unusual
friendship might turn to more, she finds herself facing the unexpected,
something that might just ruin her chance at happiness forever.
Sneak Peak:
Cumbria,
England, 18 March 1797
When Lady Mary Elizabeth Anne Paramour had
been very young, her nanny had read her fairytales. From the very first, Lady
Mary had soaked in tales of knights and dragons and quests, and the whole
wonderful world of fantastical romance. She'd grown into her young womanhood,
and while the words beautiful, kind, and lovely had all
been whispered in the great ballrooms of the English aristocracy, Lady Mary had
never let go of her childhood fascination with true love, knights in shining
armor, and princesses to be rescued by their heart's mate.
Surely,
growing up with her mother, she'd never voiced these particular
fantasies aloud. Countess Helena Eleanor Blanche Paramour would not have taken
lightly to the notion of fairies and mermaids and true love, and most especially
not in regards to her only daughter. The countess herself had met Mary's
father only three times before the day of their wedding, which had been the talk
of the tonne, naturally, and she made a point of reminding Mary, as
often as possible, that one can be a dutiful and loving wife to a man without
having to ever get to know him. As it stood, Count Jonathan Paramour and his
wife were rarely seen together in public or in private, and to the best of
Mary's knowledge that had suited them both just fine.
But
that simply wasn't the kind of marriage she wanted for herself, regardless of
her mother's insistence on the matter. Countess Helena had preached many
things to Mary throughout her life, nearly of them relating back to themes of
piety, conservative values, and the ability to retain an impeccable reputation.
And for nearly twenty-three years Mary had abided by those rules of her
mother's home to the very best of her ability. She never spoke out of turn,
never got involved in illicit relations with the local farmers' sons, and
never once voiced the opinion that she might like to perhaps marry for love.
Countess Helena would have sent her away had those impetuous words ever
manifested outside of Mary's own mind.
That
wasn't to say that Lady Mary Elizabeth Anne Paramour was entirely
well-mannered all of the time. Rather, she was particularly well-versed in
playing the attentive and perfectly bred daughter of a countess, and utterly
fantastic at pretending she wasn't.
Though
her fascination with fairytales had started young, she had only grown into them
as she aged. By the time she was old enough to understand that life didn't
happen such as the stories had said it, Mary had also learned that there
were some elements that could be practiced, if one only knew how.
His
name had been Jean-Paul San Martin, and he was known as one of the greatest
swordfighters that the continent had ever produced—a birthday gift for her
eldest brother, Malcolm. She had been barely older than twelve, and she had
watched them duel, watched the dance of feet and fingers and knowing eyes, as
Jean-Paul taught Malcolm with all the finesse that Mary had known she'd never
be privy to. Eventually, Lady Helena had learned of her escapades, and even the
view through the fencing room keyhole had been blocked from her.
But
luck, though Mary often considered the possibility of white magic, even if she
had never voiced the thought aloud, had been on her side. Some weeks into
Jean-Paul's residency at the estate, she'd stumbled upon him and a scullery
maid in the first floor hall closet. Knowing her mother's sense of propriety
as she did, even at that age, Mary had promised to keep the man's secret—for a
price.
It
was a small act of rebellion, in the grand manner of things, but it kept
Mary's head clear, and allowed her the vaguest hint of individuality, which
was more than could be said for most of the women who frequented the society
parties of which her mother was so fond.
None
of that, however, explained exactly what she was doing on the doorstep of the
most debauched kin of royalty known to the tonne. Truly, Helena would
have herself heart palpitations at the very mention of the man's name—Lord
Nathaniel Arlington. He was beyond infamous, beyond scandalous. By name, Lord
Arlington and his raucous, depraved house parties were likely more myth than
fact, but she would find out the truth on that matter soon enough. If she
managed to keep her courage about her long enough to get through the front
door.
At
that exact moment a young butler opened said door. He didn't seem the least
bit fazed by her lack of formal invitation or earlier notice, and simply
welcomed her into the house, introducing himself as Harker before taking her
riding coat. She handed it to him, pleased to finally be out of the carriage and
hopeful, so desperately hopeful, for a friendly ear.
"I
am Lady Mary Elizabeth," she began, cutting herself off before revealing her
family name, not that it would have likely made much of a difference. "I've
been informed that Lady Amalie Bronwyn is currently residing here."
Purchase A DUEL OF HEARTS
CONTACT HOLLAND
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