Showing posts with label Karen Ranney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Karen Ranney. Show all posts

Monday, August 6, 2018

TOUR - To Love a Duchess (All for Love Trilogy, #1) by Karen Ranney


To Love a Duchess
All For Love Trilogy, #2
by Karen Ranney
Publisher: Avon Books
Publication Date: July 30th 2018
Genre: Adult, Historical Romance




From New York Times Bestselling Author Karen Ranney comes the first book in a royally romantic and deeply emotional new series about taking risks and allowing the power to love satisfy the questions of the heart . . .


The Book Junkie Reads . . . Review of . . . TO LOVE A DUCHESS (All for Love Trilogy, #1) . . . A historical trip back to a time when romance was elusive and reserved. It took time to grow and be cultivated but not in the realm of the elite. But for a duchess and a servant/spy, things have a way of making use of just the basic elements of life. There was elements of emotional complexities. The characters were rich and developed. This was very much an enjoyable read for the weekend or a Sunday afternoon. The duchess (Suzanne) was so much more than met the eye. She was well to do and a title to boot but she was just barely making her way in the world. The lofty, intelligent servant was more and less of what I was expecting. He was a male that listened, payed attention to the non verbal cues and was tuned in to this environment. Of course that may have had a few things to do with his job. But the one this it was not was just another job. Adam and Suzanne were more good together because apart Suzanne was not living.

Needing a love that grows with patience and confidence this is the read you need to pick up. Get a foot in the door for this new series from Karen Ranney. Next up will be To Wed and Heiress. The year will be long but it just give me more time to read more of Karen Ranney's descriptive romantic journeys to historical Scotland.


BLURB
Undercover as a majordomo, spy Adam Drummond has infiltrated Marsley House with one purpose only—to plunder its mysteries and gather proof that the late Duke of Marsley was an unforgivable traitor to his country. At the same time, Adam is drawn to a more beguiling puzzle: the young and still-grieving duchess—a beauty with impenetrable secrets of her own. For Drummond, uncovering them without exposing his masquerade will require the most challenging and tender moves of his career.

That a servant can arouse such passion in her is too shocking for Suzanne Whitcomb, Duchess of Marsley, to consider. Yet nothing quickens her pulse like Drummond’s touch. It’s been two years since the duke lost his life in a tragic accident—and even longer since she’s been treated like a woman. But when Drummond’s real mission is revealed, and the truth behind Suzanne’s grief comes to light, every secret conspired to tear them apart is nothing compared to the love that can hold them together.


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EXCERPT: 
Chapter One
September 1864
Marsley House
London, England


He felt the duke’s stare on him the minute he walked into the room. Adam Drummond closed the double doors behind him quietly so as not to alert the men at the front door. Tonight Thomas was training one of the young lads new to the house. If they were alerted to his presence in the library they would investigate. He had a story prepared for that eventuality. He couldn’t sleep, which wasn’t far from the truth. Nightmares often kept him from resting more than a few hours at a time. A good thing he had years of practice getting by with little sleep. He’d left his suite attired only in a collarless white shirt and black trousers. Another fact for which he’d have to find an explanation. As the majordomo of Marsley House he was expected to wear the full uniform of his position at all times, even in the middle of the night. Perhaps not donning the white waistcoat, cravat, and coat was an act of rebellion. Strange, since he’d never been a rebel before. It was this place, this house, this assignment that was affecting him. For the first time in seven years he hadn’t borrowed a name or a history carefully concocted by the War Office. He’d taken the position as himself, Adam Drummond, Scot and former soldier with Her Majesty’s army. The staff knew his real name. Some even knew parts of his true history. The housekeeper called him Adam, knew he was a widower, was even aware of his birthdate. He felt exposed, an uncomfortable position for a man who’d worked in the shadows for years. He lit one of the lamps hanging from a chain fixed to the ceiling. The oil was perfumed, the scent reminiscent of jasmine. The world of the Whitcombs was unique, separated from the proletariat by two things: the peerage and wealth. The pale yellow light revealed only the area near the desk. The rest of the huge room was in shadow.


The library was ostentatious, a word he’d heard one of the maids try to pronounce. “And what does it mean, I’m asking you?” She’d been talking to one of the cook’s helpers, but he’d interjected. “It means fancy.” She’d made a face before saying, “Well, why couldn’t they just say fancy, then?”
Because everything about Marsley House was ostentatious. This library certainly qualified. The room had
three floors connected by a circular black iron staircase. The third floor was slightly larger than the second,
making it possible for a dozen lamps to hang from chains affixed to each level at different heights.
If he’d lit them all it would have been bright as day in here, illuminating thousands of books.
He didn’t think the Whitcomb family had read every one of the volumes. Some of them looked as
if they were new, the dark green leather and gold spines no doubt as shiny as when they’d arrived
from the booksellers. Others were so well worn that he couldn’t tell what the titles were until he pulled
them from the shelves and opened them. There were a great many books on military history and he suspected that was the late duke’s doing. He turned to look at the portrait over the mantel. George Whitcomb, Tenth Duke of Marsley, was wearing his full military uniform, the scarlet jacket so bright a shade that Adam’s eyes almost watered. The duke’s medals gleamed as if the sun had come out from behind the artist’s window to shine directly on such an exalted personage. He wore a sword tied at his waist and his head was turned slightly to the right, his gaze one that Adam remembered. Contempt shone in his eyes, as if everything the duke witnessed was beneath him, be it people, circumstances, or the scenery of India. Adam was surprised that the man had allowed himself to be painted with graying hair. Even his mutton chop whiskers were gray and brown. In India, Whitcomb had three native servants whose sole duties were to ensure the duke’s sartorial perfection at all times. He was clipped and coiffed and brushed and shined so that he could parade before his men as the ultimate authority of British might.


His eyes burned out from the portrait, so dark brown that they appeared almost black, narrowed
and penetrating. “Damn fine soldiers, every single one of them. All mongrels, of course, but fighting men.”
At least the voice—surprisingly higher in pitch than Adam had expected—was silent now. He didn’t
have to hear himself being called a mongrel again. Whitcomb had been talking about the British regiments
assigned to guard the East India Company settlements. He could well imagine the man’s comments about native soldiers. What a damned shame Whitcomb had been killed in a carriage accident. He deserved a firing squad at the very least. He wished the duke to Hell as he had ever since learning of the man’s death. The approaching storm with its growling thunder seemed to approve of the sentiment. As if to further remind him of India, his shoulder began to throb. Every time it rained the scar announced its presence, the bullet wound just one more memory to be expunged. It was this house. It brought to mind everything he’d tried to forget for years. Adam turned away from the portrait, his attention on the massive, heavily tooled mahogany desk. This, too, was larger than it needed to be, raised on a dais, more a throne than a place a man might work. A perfect reflection of the Duke of Marsley’s arrogance. The maids assigned this room had left the curtains open. If he had been a proper majordomo he would no doubt chastise them for their oversight. But because he’d been a leader of men, not of maids, he decided not to mention it.


Lightning flashed nearby, the strike followed by another shot of thunder. The glass shivered in the
mullioned panes. Maybe the duke’s ghost was annoyed that he was here in the library again.
The careening of the wind around this portion of Marsley House sounded almost like a warning.
Adam disregarded it as he glanced up to the third floor. He would have to be looking for a journal. That
was tantamount to searching for a piece of coal in a mine or a grain of sand on the beach.
This assignment had been difficult from the beginning. He’d been tasked to find evidence of the duke’s
treason. While he believed the man to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, finding the
proof had been time consuming and unsuccessful to this point. He wasn’t going to give up, however. This was more than an assignment for him. It was personal. One of the double doors opened, startling him.
“Sir?” Daniel, the newest footman, stood there. The lad was tall, as were all of the young men hired at Marsley House. His shock of red hair was accompanied by a splattering of freckles across his face, almost as if God had wielded a can of paint and tripped when approaching Daniel. His eyes were a clear blue and
direct as only the innocent could look. Adam always felt old and damaged in Daniel’s presence.
“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” the young footman asked.
“I’ve come to find something to read.” There, as an excuse it should bear scrutiny. He could always claim
that he was about to examine the Marsley House ledgers, even though he normally performed that task
in his own suite. “Yes, sir.”
“I think we had a prowler the other night,” Adam said, improvising. “One of the maids mentioned her
concern.”
“Sir?”
Daniel was a good lad, the kind who wouldn’t question a direct order.
“I’d like you to watch the outer door to the Tudor garden.”
“Yes, sir,” Daniel said, nodding.
“Tell Thomas that I need you there.”
“Yes, sir,” the young man said again, still nodding. Once he, too, had been new to a position. In his
case, Her Majesty’s army. Yet he’d never been as innocent as Daniel. Still, he remembered feeling uncertain and worried in those first few months, concerned that he wasn’t as competent at his tasks as he should be. For that reason he stopped the young man before he left the library.
“I’ve heard good reports about you, Daniel.”
The young man’s face reddened. “Thank you, sir.”
“I think you’ll fit in well at Marsley House.”
“Thank you, Mr. Drummond.”


A moment later Daniel was gone, the door closed once again. Adam watched for a minute before turning
and staring up at the third floor. The assignment he’d been given was to find one particular journal. Unfortunately, that was proving to be more difficult than originally thought. The
Duke of Marsley had written in a journal since he
was a boy. The result was that there were hundreds of books Adam needed to read.


After climbing the circular stairs, he grabbed the next two journals to be examined and brought them
back to the first floor. He doubted if the duke would approve of him sitting at his desk, which was why
Adam did so, opening the cover of one of the journals and forcing himself to concentrate on the duke’s

overly ornate handwriting. He didn’t look over at the portrait again, but it still seemed as if the duke watched as he read. At first Adam thought it was the sound of the storm before realizing that thunder didn’t speak in a female voice. He stood and extinguished the lamp, but the darkness wasn’t absolute. The lightning sent bright flashes of light into the library.

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the release of TO LOVE A DUCHESS by Karen Ranney, we’re giving away two paperback copies of THE TEXAN DUKE!
GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open to US shipping addresses only. Two winners will each receive a paperback copy of the The Texan Duke by Karen Ranney. This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Avon Romance.  Giveaway ends 8/11/2018 @ 11:59pm EST. Avon Romance will send the winning copies out to the winner directly. Limit one entry per reader and mailing address. Duplicates will be deleted.  CLICK HERE TO ENTER!


KAREN RANNEY began writing when she was five. Her first published work was The Maple Leaf, read over the school intercom when she was in the first grade. In addition to wanting to be a violinist (her parents had a special violin crafted for her when she was seven), she wanted to be a lawyer, a teacher, and most of all, a writer. Though the violin was discarded early, she still admits to a fascination with the law, and she volunteers as a teacher whenever needed. Writing, however, has remained an overwhelming love of her life.
Website  |  Goodreads  |  Amazon


Monday, October 30, 2017

TOUR w/EXCERPT - The Texan Duke (Duke Trilogy, #3) by Karen Ranney


The Texan Duke
Duke Trilogy, #3
by Karen Ranney
Publication Date: October 31st 2017
Publisher: Avon Romance
Genre: Adult, Historical Romance
 
The Book Junkie Reads . . . Review of . . . THE TEXAN DUKE (Duke Trilogy, #3) . . . Where do I begin? Not exactly what I was expecting, but I did enjoy the read. I felt that it fit in to the series just fine. The Texan Duke put its own spin on the Duke Trilogy. I liked both Elsbeth and Connor. I wanted to love Connor, but he came to Scotland with his American attitude and the need to sell. That was not the way to win me over, but it did give me something to look forward to as he began to fall for Bealadair’s inhabitant(s). The danger, mystery, deception, and more drew me in but need a little something extra to take it completely over the top. Being in Scotland and working with the clan and Elsbeth was beginning to change the things that Connor thought while in route to Scotland.

You get wrapped in this read in a different way than the previous two installments. There was something about mixing the Americas and Scotland. The cowboy lifestyle with title and privilege and clan. There are many characters to get to know and some that you just want to forget but this was a read that allowed for various concepts to grow. If you have read the other two books of this series you will really want to continue onward. If you are new to the series, don’t be afraid you will pick things up just fine.

The Duke Trilogy series:
The Scottish Duke – The Duke Trilogy, #1
The English Duke – The Duke Trilogy, #2
The Texan Duke – The Duke Trilogy, #3

BLURB
As the ward to the late Duke of Lothian, Elsbeth Carew resides at the ancestral estate of Bealadair. Fiercely attached to the manor, she loves it more than anyone else. When Connor McCraight—the new Duke of Lothian—arrives, Elsbeth does not quite know what to make of the American who has inherited the title but has never even set foot on Scottish soil. The tall, ruggedly handsome Texan sweeps through Bealadair with an air of authority Elsbeth has never encountered.

Connor has no intention of making Scotland his home and hopes to sell the estate as soon as possible. But his plan is jeopardized when he meets Elsbeth. A sweet, gray-eyed beauty, she tempts him in ways no other woman has. As word spreads of Connor’s intention to sell Bealadair, his life is threatened—and the only woman who can save him may be the one he has hopelessly lost his heart to.
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EXCERPT
Everything was being readied for the man in the carriage approaching the long drive.
Would he care? Would he even notice?
The blowing snow obscured everything but the yellow glow of the carriage lanterns.
None of it belonged to them anymore. It was all owned by the man who would soon emerge from the carriage, the same man who could so easily wave his hand and banish them.
She shivered, wishing she had been able to wear her cloak. And a scarf around her throat. And a hat pulled over her hair. She couldn’t feel her lips or her fingertips.
People were stamping their feet against the packed snow of the drive and wrapping their arms around themselves. She could see plumes of their breath against the night sky.
Didn’t Rhona notice that everyone was about to freeze to death?
Sometimes, she thought that Rhona forgot that the people who staffed Bealadair were human beings. A great many of her dictates didn’t make sense. Yesterday she’d given an order that the laundress was to starch all the maids’ aprons and today no one was to sit or otherwise crease their uniforms until the duke arrived. You could either do the job you were supposed to do or you could walk around acting like a marionette.
Rhona made decisions like that, making changes that weren’t the least practical. A few months ago she’d given an order that all of the maids were to have their hair arranged in the same fashion, in an overly intricate braided bun. It took so long for the girls to arrange their hair that way that Elsbeth had countermanded Rhona’s orders, more than willing to go to battle for the staff. Fortunately, the duchess hadn’t noticed.
Rhona liked to issue decrees. She made pronouncements, waved her hand in the air like a queen, and demanded certain behaviors. Just as quickly, however, she forgot what she’d ordered.
Elsbeth had the feeling that Rhona really didn’t care. The duchess just liked being obeyed, even if it was only momentarily. Elsbeth took great pains to ensure that Rhona got that impression, even if it wasn’t exactly correct.
In the past year she’d taken on the duty of housekeeper. Mrs. Ferguson had increasingly incapacitating arthritis. It was easier for the poor woman to remain in her quarters than it was to traverse the many staircases of Bealadair.
None of the family had any objections to Elsbeth assuming the role. They wanted their meals on time, their suites kept clean and sparkling, and their lives not disrupted by petty things such as laundry, staffing expectations, and inconsequential details like leaky roofs.
As for Elsbeth, she enjoyed having something to do every day. Each evening she met with Mrs. Ferguson, consulting the woman over the tasks that needed to be done. The housekeeper had been at Bealadair for over twenty years and knew the house as well as—if not more so—the McCraights. The woman was an organizational genius, acquiring details about the many collections housed at the estate from armaments to historical documents.
No doubt the new duke would want to know the extent of his inheritance. Thanks to Mrs. Ferguson, she could provide him with an exact inventory.
The carriage was turning into the drive. A stableboy ran out to steady the horses. A footman strode forward to open the carriage door.
Rhona stepped up, accompanied by her oldest daughter, Lara, and Lara’s husband, Felix.
Elsbeth was too far away to hear the duchess’s words, but they were probably those of welcome. Maybe the duchess said something in Gaelic, evoking Scottish sentiment. After all, the new duke was an American who needed to be educated on his Scottish heritage. At least that’s what she’d been told.
No one had ever spoken of this unknown nephew. Until Mr. Glassey had sent back word from America, they had expected that the 14th Duke of Lothian and the Laird of Clan McCraight would be Gavin’s brother.
This man who stepped down from the carriage was a complete mystery.



Author Info
Karen Ranney is an American author of historical and paranormal romance novels. She began writing when she was five.  Most of Ranney’s novels are set in Scotland and feature “believable characters, careful plotting, and simmering sexual tension.” She has been nominated nine times for a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award and won a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award in 2002 for British-set Historical Romance.  In 2014 Ranney began writing the paranormal romance series The Montgomery Chronicles, which center on a newly and unwillingly turned female vampire, and in 2016 began writing a spinoff series, The Furry Chronicles.  Ranney has also been on the USA Today Bestseller List as well as the New York Times bestseller list.  She lives in Texas.

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