Mellie Smithson is
trapped in the country with no suitors and no prospects on the horizon except,
perhaps, the exasperating—although admittedly handsome—guest of her father.
Unwilling to settle, Mellie will do anything to escape to London...
Trevor Anaedsley has a problem…
Trevor Anaedsley’s
grandfather has cut off his funds until he gets engaged. Beset by creditors,
Trevor escapes to the country—ostensibly to visit his old tutor Mr.
Smithson—where he meets Smithson’s lovely daughter Mellie. The obvious solution
is suddenly before him—but will this fake engagement go as Trevor and Mellie
plan? Or will they find that even the best laid plans often go awry?
Question: 24. Warning: Goofy Post! If you've been
following this blog tour, you'd know that I've been doing original posts for
all 25 sites on this tour. We're getting toward the end and I've said
everything I can about 50 Ways to Ruin a Rake. It's funny, it's probably the
best thing I've ever written, and I got a GREAT review from RT Book Reviews on
it. So I hope you'll pick up the book. In the meantime, it's time for goofy
multiple choice!
Growing up, Jade was best known for what?
A. Creating exciting stories with her dolls. Truly, the
entire neighborhood was entranced.
B. Eating everything that was put in front of her. Yeah, I
was the female version of Mikey.
C. Beating up her sisters. I was a brute as a kid.
D. Being the neighborhood CIA. Yup, any gossip about anyone,
I would remember and retell. Okay, so maybe it wasn't all TRUE, but that's the
nature of gossip, right?
Answer: D. I loved telling stories and I was too lazy to get
the right set up for Barbie. Why bother when all she wore was ballgowns and
high heels? Plus, Ken was never dark and handsome enough. So I made up stories
about the neighborhood and I learned pretty quick that no one believed that
Mrs. Smith across the street was an alien. But they might believe she baked
special brownies that made her see aliens. (Actually, I wasn't that cruel as a
kid. Maybe as a teenager, but not as a kid.) And though I did eat a lot of
things, I drew the line at certain early cooking attempts by my sister. And I was
never physically abusive. Why punch when it's so much more fun to make up
gossip?
Okay,
so I was an evil kid. Thankfully, I've set my creative genius to good effect
now, right? Although, have I told you about my neighbor who grows these strange
plants...
An Excerpt:
Trevor was down. Ronnie was going to finish the fight. But he
hadn’t reckoned on Melinda. She’d been an unwilling participant in this whole
disgusting display. Well, if her cousin wanted a Cheltenham tragedy, she would
bloody well give him one.
She surged forward, having no need to fake the desperation in her
voice. “Stop it! Ronnie, stop it now!” And when he didn’t hear her, she said
the words she’d never thought she’d utter in her entire life. “My love!”
That got his attention. His fist was raised, but he looked to her,
his eyes alight with excitement. “Mellie!”
She flung herself forward. Dropping to her knees, she slid in the
mud, coming to a stop just where she’d intended—right beside Trevor’s head.
Ronnie reached for her, but she pushed him away as she wrapped herself around
the fallen lord.
“Stay away, you brute!” she practically spit at her cousin. Then
she used her cloak to dab at the blood on Trevor’s face. “My love, my love, are
you alive? Oh God, someone fetch a doctor! Please, someone!”
Her words were ten times more dramatic than were needed, but she’d
learned that the best way to deliver a message to her cousin was in the most
theatrical tone possible. So she cradled Trevor in her arms and crooned like
any heroine in the most lurid gothic romance.
Trevor’s face was indeed a battered mess, but not so
unrecognizable that she didn’t see the gleam of appreciation in his eyes or the
mischievous smile that pulled at his swollen lip.
“Are you an angel?” he asked. “Have I died?”
The man was lying in the mud, his ankle nearly snapped in half.
His face oozed from a myriad of cuts, and yet he still had the wherewithal to
give the crowd a good show. It was enough to make her contemplate dropping him
in the mud. She didn’t, of course, but she hoped her glare would suffice.
Meanwhile, Ronnie just stood there poised, his fist still raised
as he gaped. “Mellie?”
She looked up, shooting a venomous look at his bloodied fist. “Do
you mean to trounce me as well? Lay me out in the mud and the shite like last
week’s garbage?”
“What?” Ronnie took a moment to understand while she gestured with
her chin toward his fist. Then he abruptly gasped and shook out his hand,
dropping it helplessly to his side. “But I won. This was an affaire d’honor.”
“Congratulations,” she mocked. “You beat a man half your weight.”
“Hey!” muttered Trevor. “I’m not that small.”
“Oh shut up. I’m making a point.” Then she turned her attention to
her cousin. Best make the situation absolutely clear. “You were right, Ronnie.
You have made everything so clear to me. I could never love a brute like you.
It’s him I want. A man of elegance, not violence.”
She watched her cousin absorb her words, his mind obviously
working slowly, and no wonder. Certainly, Ronnie was an accomplished fighter,
but he’d never in his life been called a brute. He was a poet, for God’s sake.
And his father was wont to call him a useless fribble with no starch
whatsoever. Of course, both appellations were completely wrong, but truth
didn’t matter here. Not when he’d wanted drama. And so she stretched the
truth—she outright broke it—and she felt no remorse.
“I love Trevor,” she said loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“Since when?” her cousin demanded.
Since never. She had a thorough disgust of them both. Especially
as Trevor began to speak in a quavering voice.
“Oh, to finally hear those words, now in the moments before I
expire. My life is complete.”
“You’re not dying,” she hissed. Unless he was hurt more than he
appeared. The thought shot her with alarm until he started speaking again.
“I am dying!” he cried. “Kiss me, my love. Kiss me, and mayhap
your love will keep me tethered to this mortal coil.”
“I will not,” she said between clenched teeth.
He pitched his voice to a plaintive wail. “Then I shall die for
sure!”
Damnation on all bloody, arrogant, ridiculous men! One glance
about her showed that the crowd was hanging on his every word. She didn’t
really care until she looked at Ronnie’s face. He wasn’t stupid. He could see
that Trevor wasn’t really hurt. It wouldn’t take him long to remember that
she’d never spoken of Trevor with anything but disdain. And from there it was a
small step to realizing that this entire display was a sham. So she had to do
something quickly. Something that he’d never forget, even if he did suspect the
lie.
So she did it. She kissed Trevor.
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1 comments:
Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind was a great rake.
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