Excerpt Love-Hate New Release and Giveaway

Brrrr!

At least, that’s what I’ve been saying a lot lately, and I’m sure there are those of you in colder parts of the country than Oregon. Whose idea was it to have a winter storm in February, anyway? Foul, I say!

Anyway, I hope you’re all keeping safe and warm. My contribution to our February theme of Love/Hate is a book that kicks off a Battle of Flirting. It’s a game of one-up-man-ship as Darcy and Elizabeth try to get the better of each other by making each other blush. Who do you think will win?

I had another project underway; a much bigger one, but it turns out that power outages and winter storms and family goings-on were not conducive to a big project. So, I turned my attention this month to this story, which had been sitting on the back burner since July. It was so close to being ready to go to the ball, but the shoes just didn’t fit! Now, here she is, ready to twirl and entertain you.

Unlike my more recent novella ventures, this one is a light and totally angst-free read. It was just fun to spend some page time with a flirty Darcy and an Elizabeth who is ready to take him on. I hope you enjoy it, too. It’s just right for reading in a hot bubble bath this chilly February.

I’ll be giving away two copies on February 28, so comment away!

In the game of love, who will have the last flirt?

Fitzwilliam Darcy has been successfully resisting the charms of Elizabeth Bennet. Mostly. But a plea from his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has put Darcy in a precarious position. To help his cousins find happiness, he must pretend a romantic diversion of his own, with the woman who is tearing down his last defenses.

Elizabeth Bennet is accustomed to the ridiculous. Whether it is an absurd relative or a nonsensical noble, she allows very few things to rattle her. But she is properly astonished when Mr. Darcy, the most disagreeable man in the world, shocks her with a most unconventional proposal.

She cannot pass up such a sublime opportunity, and immediately sets out to unnerve the proud man from Derbyshire. But Mr. Darcy has hidden talents of his own, and soon, Elizabeth finds herself almost outmatched in the art of teasing.

As they each vie for the upper hand in this romantic contest, will they conquer each other at last? Or will their victory be sabotaged by their hearts?

Excerpt from Chapter 8

I think if Mr. Darcy ever falls head over ears for a woman, she will be the last to know of it.

Not that I think such a proud and haughty man could ever be lain waste by mortal woman. No, his dignity would not suffer such a surrender! But if it ever did, I believe he would be so stiff in her presence that she would be utterly convinced that he despised her. I do not state that as a mere supposition. I have proof.

“What should we talk of today, Miss Elizabeth?” he had asked as we were setting out.

“Oh! I have no particular requests. You may tell me about the costliness of the buttons on your waistcoat, and I would be quite content to respond with my admiration. After that, we may be silent.”

He turned a dour eye on me, with which I am sure he meant to deride my sense of humor. Charlotte would have laughed, but apparently, it did not amuse Mr. Darcy. “I dress with care, as is suitable and proper, but I am not one to boast over my wardrobe, Miss Bennet.”

“Why, then, you could amuse me with your observations of the weather. I assure you, I would find it supremely engaging.”

“I know that for an untruth, for you would only use the subject later to abuse me.”

“Abuse you! Mr. Darcy, of what can you be speaking?”

“Do not ladies talk amongst themselves about the foolishness of gentleman?”

“Indeed, they do. How is that offensive?”

“Is there a more banal topic than the weather? No, indeed, if I wished to assure myself of your mockery, there would be no better way to do it. Therefore, I shall not succumb to the temptation to talk of such mundane matters and expose myself to ridicule. I think you would consider it an affront if I took tales of your burgeoning efforts at the pianoforte to laugh about with my friends.”

“I do not see how that is the same thing,” I replied airily.

“It is when the gentleman has no talent for conversation.”

“But no one is mocking your conversational skills. Why would you even be defensive about that?”

He turned his head again, and in a steady, grave tone, replied, “No man wishes to be made a fool of.”

“Then do not make a fool of yourself, sir,” I answered crisply.

He looked back to the horses and fell completely mute. I am certain I would have found it amusing enough simply to listen to Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh behind us, but they, too, had gone silent. Except for the colonel, who occasionally pointed out a particular sort of bird nesting in the bushes, we were a depressing party for the next twenty minutes until we reached the place where we had picnicked the day before.

I settled it with myself then. If no one else attending these daily outings would exert themselves to conversation, I would give up that effort and simply enjoy the scenery.

“Darcy, you must exert yourself a little bit!” Richard hissed as we were taking the picnic basket down off the carriage. “Why will you not speak to Miss Elizabeth?”

“I did. We spoke for three minutes, and I daresay it was a most engaging interlude.”

“Really? What did you speak about?”

“Why, we spoke of… I believe we spoke of our lack of something to speak of.” I frowned. “Miss Elizabeth is a rather intimidating conversationalist.”

“Intimidating, my eye! The girl is perfectly agreeable. Why, she is ten times sweeter than Miss Emma Brooks, who was badgering you so determinedly last season. And Caroline Bingley! I would fall on my saber before I let her within bayonet-range! Give me Miss Elizabeth to talk to any day. I cannot fathom why you are always so tongue-tied around her unless she has got to your heart, as well as your head.”

“Do not be ridiculous. I am unassailable.”

“Then, for heaven’s sake, man, lend me some help and talk to your lady so I can talk to mine!”

Richard reached over me with a jerk of his arm and a dirty glare. He hefted the basket himself and marched over to where the ladies were spreading out the blanket, leaving me to follow in a muddled and blackened state of mind. Naturally, there was nothing I would have liked better than to let down my guard, cross swords with the lady, and let her engage my mind with my defenses all laid aside. But it was a perilous prospect, sure to end in one of two ways—ruin and cataclysm, or a wedding.

That latter… was sounding less and less terrifying.

Elizabeth looked up to me with such a perfect challenge in those flashing eyes that there was nothing else for it. I claimed the place close to her, and devil take the rest. Richard sprawled beside Anne in such a casual fashion that one might presume them for an engaged couple rather than a clandestine and uncertain—and perhaps one-sided—courtship.

I saw the arch of Miss Elizabeth’s brows, the tiny crease beside her mouth, then she glanced at me. And there was such a comprehension in her eyes that I understood it at once—she had seen Richard’s design. Of course, she had! She was no fool. And perhaps…

Yes, perhaps I could make my task easier if I enlisted her as an ally rather than the unwitting object of my bungled fascination.

Once again, we enjoyed a fine alfresco tea, although anyone in their senses would question the weather’s reliability in April for daily picnics. Our luck was no different than one might expect, for though the day was clear and even warm, I felt a bit of dampness soaking into my skirts through the blanket when we finally stood.

Miss de Bourgh had arranged herself carefully on a thick quilt atop the picnic blanket, so it is doubtful she felt any discomfort. However, the colonel was at her side at once, concerned that she might have caught a chill after sitting so long on the grass. He suggested a bit of walking by the sunny pond to warm us before our return, and we all agreed.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said as he got to his feet beside me, “The path by the pond is short, and I would prefer a longer walk. Perhaps you fancy a view of the anemone wood before we mount the carriage again?”

I had to confess that yes, this was a most agreeable idea, for I always liked seeing such a cheerful carpet of flowers raising their heads in the spring. Besides, a short walk would not suffice for airing my clothing, and sitting beside a man with damp skirts was not a notion to my liking.

“I thank you, yes,” I agreed.

Mr. Darcy gave me his arm. “Do you enjoy admiring nature, Miss Elizabeth? Perhaps the thrushes are nesting.”

It was a thin excuse, but foolishly, I permitted him to lead me away. I noted with some dismay that Colonel Fitzwilliam supplied an equally pitiful reason to coax Miss de Bourgh to the sun-dazzled pond in the opposite direction.

I walked beside Mr. Darcy, only waiting for the uncomfortable moment to come to an end. My one consolation was that this was a man who had every reason not to behave in any manner that might induce gossip or necessitate a hasty marriage. No, he would sooner jump off a cliff! He looked no happier than I was, as he kept toying with his cuff links and clearing his throat.

At last, he stopped, cast a glance over his shoulder to be certain we were alone, and addressed me. He was very red in the face, and his voice was earnest, but he said something so preposterous that I had to scratch my ear to be certain I heard correctly.

“Miss Elizabeth, I hope I can enlist your aid in a most vexing matter. I require some assistance in my endeavors at matchmaking.”

Ready for more? Oh, you’re going to love this Darcy. He can FLIRT when he wants to. Poor Elizabeth is going to have her hands full trying to keep up! The paperback is already live, and the e-book goes live tomorrow, so save your copy today, and get the bubble bath ready. Enjoy!